I Need The Opposite Of Meditation
To feel the scream inside of me reflected in the world outside.
A few years ago, I went to an exhibition of Edvard Munch’s work at the Pompidou centre in Paris. I got to see the infamous Scream painting, not just once, but dozens of times. Munch had painted the tormented face time and time again. Like an obsession.
Munch himself suffered from mental health problems, in fact he once said: “I can not get rid of my illnesses, for there is a lot in my art that exists only because of them,” a sentiment that is incredibly sad. Imagine feeling like your only worth comes from your pain.
Looking at all those screaming faces, echoed again and again, was incredibly moving. I felt like I knew what Munch had been feeling. That scream so near the surface you feel that your body will explode but it never does, it just stays where it is. A scream which is never heard, though you desperately need it to be. I could feel him painting that same scream, over and over again, hoping that will set it free.
I know that feeling of having too many emotions, like neither your brain nor the world has room for all of them. I’m overemotional. I cry a lot, laugh a lot and feel things deeply. Swinging up, swinging down.
