So during my mid life/what-ever-the-fuck-it-is crisis, I have been questioning our need as humans to group together, to pair up. To need each other. I don’t quite know yet. Some people say it’s the same as why flowers need the sun and the rain, others say it’s the same reason why computer coding groups itself together, apparently it’s called “the ghost in the machine”, things would rather group. I guess it is kind of biological, like the boson higgs particle that started all of this.
I ponder the point of our life here on this planet. There is enough for everyone, yet not everyone has enough. Some have nothing. Life, if I look at my own, is a series of harsh lessons, moments of intense beauty, snapshots of joy, it is made up of thoughts clanging around in my skull that fly away like butterflies when I have the courage to release them, fears and delusions chained to my heart that fall like dust to the floor when I acknowledge that they aren’t real, yet leaving scars that bleed for years and wounds with only a thin layer of healing covering them. Happiness as fleeting as soap bubbles that pop as soon as you touch them, leaving you with soapy fingertips as a reminder. And an undercurrent of awareness that I am alone in this world, while constantly longing for that elusive place called “home”. A wanderer looking in from the outside. I have always thought of life as extra ordinary, magical, beautiful and terrifying all at once. Never knowing from one breath to the next which will be experienced. And love as the balm to sooth my inflamed soul. Always love. Such a simple emotion. Yet as is our nature, always complicating it. If people need people, if we need each other to get by, to survive, why do we not allow ourselves to let each other in. Why do we spend so much time hurting each other. Why if we were made that way, to group together, to seek each other out, why weren’t we also made to understand the simplicity of the concept of love. That to love doesn’t mean giving up something, that there are no conditions or judgments attached. That to love each other doesn’t mean taking something away from one’s self.
I love people. We are fascinating creatures. My life has been and is filled with amazing human beings. People that restore my faith in humanity, around who I can just be. My past is also littered with people who helped put those chains around my heart. The nature of life is change. It’s in constant flux. Sameness is a kind of death. Change is required, it’s a given. So isn’t life and love a constant lesson in letting go. To allow change. Change is our nature. And as we change so do others. As we wander, so do others. No-one can promise another that they will be there until the last of their days. Because of that thing called change. That I can deal with. That my being understands. But my heart, that seems like it’s bravely beating “I am!” in my chest, more often than not asks “Am I?”. My heart that has been scarred and bruised and is stitched together with good intentions and fortified with hope, has grown weary of people, so I find I keep them at arms length, I am my hearts keeper, and past experience is a harsh teacher. I believe that one should not punish someone with the sins of others. But still I find myself being careful who I let in. Of late, I just find life too exhausting to be able to deal with others. With the drama people so love to create. With the hurt they intentionally inflict. I was a young girl who decided that “I don’t need anyone” that if you have no expectations you can never be disappointed, I have since experienced what it’s like to choose to be open, consciously vulnerable and trusting, and now I’m not sure where I stand. Trying to find the middle ground between being over protective of myself and giving too much of myself. If we need other people, if it’s my intrinsic nature to “need” other people (I hate that word), I am going to make damn sure they are amazing. Life is hard enough to deal with on it’s own, I sure as hell don’t need people around that complicate it even further.
“God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter – they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship – but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.” ― Sylvia Plath