I have no idea half the time.
No idea how to get there, how to make time work in my favor, how to be a really good mother, how to make money. How to stick to one thing until it’s “successful”, whatever in gods name that means.
I don’t know when is the right time to speak up, or if speaking up is what is best for me and my family (b/c as a mother I’m pre-programmed for my concern to reach beyond myself, it’s unstoppable), or if writing is worth the time to do it. The less time you spend working on something the less quality you’ll reap from it, but the greater the honesty of that thing will be. What a trade-off.
I don’t know when my mind will catch up to my calendrical age and start to think less emotionally and more like a calm Buddhist monk, something I desire like a child wants cheap plastic toys for Christmas. Or how to stop being dependent on sugar to make me feel just normal ever day. How do I stop stopping myself from doing things I want to do that require the sharing of personal thoughts? Drinking more and earlier would help in this case but it doesn’t seem like a good enough reason.
I saw today this brief post on an online news outlet about a girl who took photographs of her grandparents’ belongings after they had passed. It was her way of preserving them and their life, and a way to honor the simplicity of that life. Later I was doing my best thinking during my shower and thought of how simple minded it is to attempt to do Big Things in a lifetime, because no matter how Big and Memorable and Important those things are, people in the present simply do not care. We do not care about Nefertiti or Alexander the Great or anyone in history who has made an indelible impact on humanity. I mean we don’t actively give a damn. It made me think, all in the briefest flash of a moment, that being a simple “nobody” who is kind and good and endlessly loving to their closest loved ones (and also kind to strangers) is the purest form of a truly good life. And that’s actually all that matters. Just that. Waking up, feeding your family, listening to your kids say funny and long-winded things and hugging your spouse all morning like it’s a lazy Sunday even when it’s a Monday, and baking bread and cookies from scratch, and helping your parents with whatever and your siblings with whatever and just being a decent person and not giving so much of a damn about what you’re going to Get Done Today… that’s it. That’s all that is good and golden and precious of life. We make it so damn complicated. Why can’t we stop wanting so much? Why can’t it be enough, just this.
All of life often feels like a game to me. A complex yet configured set of coding which could be untangled and understood if only our own humanic interiors could be wangdoozled. That’s how it feels anyway.
And somehow I feel closer to the truth than ever before.
It’s just outside my reach.
Art by Hayv Kahraman via The Jealous Curator