The Fluidity of Life
(Below are snippets of an entry handwritten on 7/28/2008)
I wrote down an idea in my previous journal of a writing topic, but never got to elaborate on it further. It was about one ordinary weeknight when I was at home (in my old studio apartment). I had left a music channel on my television and as I was crossing over to the bed, or the bathroom, I noticed that the song playing was ‘Besame Mucho,” but an instrumental version.
For some reason, hearing that song took me out of my immediate present reality, and into an alternate one. I imagined I could be on the streets in Europe, listening to it play at a café. Anywhere else but where I was. I had the feeling of being on vacation, with everything feeling slightly removed and unfamiliar. But it was something comforting at the same time. A break from the everyday, normal routine. It was a reminder of the fluidity of life- of the possibilities that abound there.
I never used to weigh my values on conventional, societal ideals. I found (and still find) value in creativity, non-conformity, living simply, sucking all the juice out of life. Living as if in the magic of poetic language. Living life with a purpose and meaning that one defines for oneself, no matter the opinions of the common masses. Holding on to one’s freedom, individuality and singular expression has importance over everything else. A person cannot rest or be at peace unless he is heeding the call of his heart, his own personal song, a vision of what true happiness really means.
It’s strange to be afraid of happiness- I guess the fear of losing it. I try not to let that get to me and just give myself over to those magical, out of this world moments. Those moments of being and feeling whole, natural, healthy, and free. This is best summarized in an email I wrote to someone on 1/29/2008 , in which I recall an overheard conversation while I was in a cab:
‘In a cab on the way home last night, I overheard the cab driver’s phone call because he was speaking in Spanish. He was consoling someone, telling them there are good and bad things in life. Both good and bad things happen to people. And things tend to balance themselves out. He told the person on the other end of the line, speaking very slowly, to fully enjoy the good moments when they happen. He said you have to give yourself over to them completely and revel in them, because you need to realize that not everyone has a chance to experience a good moment. That way, most of the time, bad moments won’t seem as bad. I thought that was really insightful.’
For some reason, that has stuck in my mind. Or maybe I’ve been trying to make it stick, and that’s my purpose for transcribing it again here.
Sometimes I remind myself that it’s OK to keep it simple in writing. I don’t have to sit to write 10 or 20 pages all at once or not write anything. In her journals, Sylvia Plath would sometimes write only a paragraph describing what the rain sounds like falling on her roof in the quiet of her bedroom. Nothing else was needed because that was all she had to say on that day.
I’m not sure who it is I’m writing these journals to, but there’s always writing to go to when no one is listening to you, or asking how you’re feeling. It’s not like the pen and paper will ignore you. It can’t. So when people are just too consumed with talking about themselves, writing is the best thing to do, to get our all the thoughts, frustrations, fears and inspirations. With no one standing in judgment. No one to stop you.
I suppose in the same way that musicians create their own little worlds in the power of their music, so do writers create their own little worlds with words, which can be like a personal retreat from a too loud world. I want to continue to like myself as a person throughout my life, and I think a big part of that depends on being absolutely true to myself. Never wavering in my beliefs as a singular human being, and never bending to the will of others who want me to be someone else more to their liking.
Leave a Comment
Be the first to comment!