Wednesday 25 May 2011
Tuesday 24 May 2011
What makes me real
It seems easier to talk about someone else rather than ones self. Why being honest with our selves seems most of the time so difficult? I look at people around me spotting their characters and what I like and mostly don't like about them and, sometimes, I identify within me the same behavioral patterns. Still, even if deep inside I understand that what bothers me in others is a reflection of my own character, I tend to skip the fact that this is who I also am...
But who am I really? Do I honestly know what am I doing? Why do I feel jealous of people who have a purpose in life? And why do I not have one? Or is this the purpose of my life? Achieving to live without any particular purpose. I really don't know. My coffee seems to have a purpose every day. It helps me wake up and take some time of calmness before my mind starts doing all the thinking.But anyway...
I have found myself lately trying to avoid as much as possible to think but I didn't really make it that far. What I achieved was more frustration and disappointment and less contact with what's inside me. For the first time in my life I have spent all that time sabotaging any effort of taking life in my own hands. From being an independent young woman who had her own little lifestyle (good or bad, it doesn't really matter anymore) I have seen me turning into a "faceless" machine. And there is no one else to blame but me. And that's another thing that many people tend to do. Blame themselves for things that sometimes there's no reason for blaming.
I remember a teacher who told me one-when I was still back in school- "Don't you ever prevent yourself from being all the things you are!" It didn't seem to make much sense at the time but being able to recall the phrase today makes me feel the greatness of the meaning hidden behind the words. Is that what my life at the moment is? Just another version of who I am? Maybe... I am not sure if this personal research will get to an end but then again, it is more interesting this way.
But who am I really? Do I honestly know what am I doing? Why do I feel jealous of people who have a purpose in life? And why do I not have one? Or is this the purpose of my life? Achieving to live without any particular purpose. I really don't know. My coffee seems to have a purpose every day. It helps me wake up and take some time of calmness before my mind starts doing all the thinking.But anyway...
I have found myself lately trying to avoid as much as possible to think but I didn't really make it that far. What I achieved was more frustration and disappointment and less contact with what's inside me. For the first time in my life I have spent all that time sabotaging any effort of taking life in my own hands. From being an independent young woman who had her own little lifestyle (good or bad, it doesn't really matter anymore) I have seen me turning into a "faceless" machine. And there is no one else to blame but me. And that's another thing that many people tend to do. Blame themselves for things that sometimes there's no reason for blaming.
I remember a teacher who told me one-when I was still back in school- "Don't you ever prevent yourself from being all the things you are!" It didn't seem to make much sense at the time but being able to recall the phrase today makes me feel the greatness of the meaning hidden behind the words. Is that what my life at the moment is? Just another version of who I am? Maybe... I am not sure if this personal research will get to an end but then again, it is more interesting this way.
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