#9: little arguments with self

A bout of rambling in early 2024!!!?

In those quiet corners of my mind, where imagination weaves its dumb, nonsensical threads, I find myself hopelessly engaging in conversations with ghosts. Not the spooky spectres from supernatural tales, but the echoes of dreams left unfulfilled, questions that remain unanswered, heartbreaks leading nowhere, the shadows of pasts lived. It is a peculiar kind of companionship, denoting the unending sympathies of our imagination while laying bare its inherent self-centeredness.

My inner monologue (and conversations) often take on an inward-looking tone; a reaffirmation of my own blindspots rather than a detached exploration of what will always remain unknown to me. Amidst these silly musings, I grapple with the unattainable: financial security, political joys, the impossibility of closure for chapters already lived, inner peace (it needs a chance ok). The futile pursuit of practical utility limits me to no end, casting a shadow over the unadulterated joy derived from what has always been dear to my heart. To my credit, I have managed to preserve the essence of everything I have always loved, free from the taint and crutch (and ambition) of taking things too seriously.

Amidst the whirlwind of interiority, a longing emerges: an irresistible urge to unfurl creativity, unencumbered by the oppressive weight of practicality. To hell with the confinements of belief and conviction, and the stifling rigidity of discipline! Let the imagination flow like a river charting its course through the mountains, free and unrestrained. Here is to perpetually remaining faithful to one's curiosity and deeply committed to the mysteries etched into the very fabric of our beings.

I'm not laughing. I'm not flinching. It is 2024 after all; a serious, solemn year. I admit that I have the privilege to take a pause. The act of standing still becomes a profound stance: a silence allowing someone else to clean up the mess for a change, to admit the unspoken, to relieve us of the pain being caused by them. We are naked and bleeding: the world doesn’t have a choice but to stand its ground without fear.

In a world that often pushes us to flee, manipulate, or hide, the real challenge is learning to stand still and ask to be loved. It is truly something to exist in the warm embrace of being seen and not scrutinised. For once, no one can flinch or turn away from what is true. This profound, current truth: the difficulty of standing still and experiencing love. My midlife is also an invitation to be present, revelling in the certainty that we must be wanted, valued, and loved. This is an era of apology and reckoning. Be truthful; embrace it. Confessions are liberating.

Here's to stillness as an art form, a promise that everything and anything is just beginning. The beauty of the revolutionary journey lies in the stillness along the way. Here is to stillness. 

To stillness as a political act.