Thursday March 5, 2015
The Fig Tree
“I’m ready for something bigger.” I took a deep gulp of air and I said that to myself. I did. I was, in that moment, feeling very existential. I wanted to know things about myself. I realized I wanted to enjoy my own abilities instead of waiting, forever waiting, for someone else to tell me that they enjoy them. “How is that living?” I exhaled and I said that to myself. “How is it?” If I might, I’d like to paint the scene for you so perhaps you’d see how silly it is too.
You wake up, you dread enjoying your own gifts because you’re afraid someone else might disagree with you or have an opinion about what you’ve made. You make a bowl of quick oats and banana, and you tell yourself internally how bad you are for wanting to spend time doing the things that bring you joy and amusement and pleasure. You clean the dishes and you imagine a world where there is applause for you, but you see it as its own entity and not attached to the doing. Then you put on your jeans and you notice that you don’t ever see the part where you’re actually enjoying your own ability. You can’t envision the perfect happiness that comes from simply doing that thing, and you can’t fathom for even a split second what the feeling of truly expressing and connecting would mean for you.
So you throw on your winter scarf and head out of the house to once again avoid doing what you know your heart bleeds for.
Bizarre, isn’t it?
Tuesday December 3, 2013 at Sambuca Grill
from the edge newsletter
I was taught from a very early age that I could do anything I wanted. Even if that thing seemed really really impossible. I could still do it. My mum would always say, I’m not saying you can’t do it, I’m simply asking if you should. And then I would reflect on myself and wonder sometimes if I should actually do something just because I wanted to. She also said, depending on the day, I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying do you really want to. And that would sort of twist my brain up and make me think that maybe I didn’t want to pee like a boy or climb a volcano during an eruption. And in those moments I’d believe that I could still do it, but it was less of an accomplishment if it wasn’t all that appealing anyway. So there was actually quite a bit of confusion in my head and I didn’t always understand what my capabilities were and what my desires were. So I’m not blaming my mum, you know, for confusing me blind, just thinking about how if you’re told something by someone you trust, you believe it. You’d believe anything. And I guess believing I’m capable is not a bad thing, yeah?