Time to update methinks…I’ve noticed few things in relation to DD. Firstly, it is no longer interesting to me to write updates on what’s going on in my reality. While I have no problems reading other people sharing their news, to do the same is not inspiring to me anymore. Maybe this is because I have no news I consider significant. Or maybe I’m just being lazy. Or both. Now, that brings on another problem – what is there to write. And – why should I anyway. What is the reason people want to share what they are thinking. Why was I doing this before? Could it be that before I needed an acknowledgement, an acceptance somewhat. And now, of course, there is absolutely no need to be “accepted” by others, I have come all this way to be self-sufficient in every need concerning self-confidence. So why would I want to write things I’m thinking of they are there just for thinking, not for being re-evaluated. Not a problem, obviously, just a natural question that came to mind.
Of course Dear Diary has been part of my life for so long, it feels almost ingrown into me. I have no plans to leave it, why can’t I stay. It is nice to know there is a place where I can come and say something if I want to say without dropping it onto someone else’s shoulders. So…what will it be today...what thought wins the draw to be let out there. Or here for that matter. Or should it be a thought at all. I remember how about…ermmm…5 years ago (?) someone said to me: we all need to be heard, even when we do not admit to it. I would rephrase this now, at least in relation to myself. While to be heard in the deadly silence of aloneness might be nice sometimes, I think, I’d prefer to be thought of. Sometimes all I need is hello or hey there or just a poke without a single word spoken. Do I want to share my thoughts on a daily basis? I can’t say I do. At least now I’m in such a phase when it doesn’t make difference emotionally-wise if I say what I’m thinking aloud or just think to myself. But I do miss friends from the past, those who left a mark, you know who you are. And it doesn’t bother me that lives moved into different directions and I am not even curious about what are you doing with yours and where. But I imagine how we’d sit across the table and talk. Not about how we’ve been and what challenges we dealt with over all this time. But about things our mind occupied with right now. Picking up where we left as if no time happened in between the times. Now that is what truly tickles my mind delightfully. Yeah, I’d like that. Sentimental I am today…
That happened last week. I wrote in Big Book of Imagination. I was walking across the town when I saw that huge book standing in front of the Library. It was entitled Imagine. Apparently this is a new sculpture installation of some local artist. She put up this huge open book and encouraged people to write in it, the theme is – Imagine. If you know me well, you’d imagine how I could never miss such an opportunity! Sure enough, my thought on Imagination is now part of the Big Book. What I wrote there: “Imagine: when you imagine something, it comes true” that was my input. I stopped and talked to the artist for a while. We discussed how reserved people in general are. He noticed that the kids would just grab a pen and go write something almost instantly without further thinking and how adults would hesitate; take time to make an effort to come up with something they would consider worthy. And many would just run away in panic unwilling to participate in sharing. We talked about this and came to conclusion people are driven by a fear to be different. Afraid to stand out. For some reason to be different has become a synonym for “fighting against”. When did it become “unacceptable” to be unique?! I write in the Big Book not because I wanted to be a part of “historic monument” or become celebrity or something. And it wasn’t even a wish to “share something clever” (or to show off for that matter). The reason I wrote there was because it felt great to be a part of a random group of accidentally likeminded people. It makes you feel connected, you know. As if all of us, who took a pen, know something special about us, something that we all share, perhaps, a simple wish to not be afraid to be different. A thread that connects one with another.
The idea of a thread connecting each and every single one of us is very spiritual…an invisible link from one to another and to the next one in a row…a unique something that we all have in common…a sense of being human, just like you or him or them…one being kind to another not because they like them, but simply because they accept them all the while respecting their right to be different…if I am to pick a human quality to serve as such link, it has to be kindness…imagine each has this trait in them…would there ever be hurt in the world?! To me being kind to another means to understand the consequences of your affect on them…if you can imagine yourself in their shoes, see what they see, feel what they feel, you would never do harm to them, because you will feel how it hurts…it is easy to be kind when you can become another for a splitting moment…Maybe this is the secret of being unique – to know how it is to be the same.
I think, I'm getting too phylosophical here. Time for a medication ;-)