I have been trying to find a space to write. An open space like this, outside of the pages of my private journals. A public space, to teach myself to speak, to learn a little bit more about courage. Also to put myself on one side of a possible conversation even if it is a silent one and the response of the other remains unknown to me. To share, to open up, to release. To own, to take a position, to express without apologies.
In a way, perhaps, to complement my overall "bid for everlastingness", to borrow a term from Christopher Phillips, who wrote the book Socrates Café: A Fresh Taste of Philosophy.
The task and potential greatness of mortals lie in their ability to produce things--works deeds and words--which would deserve to be at home in everlastingness...I think we all have some unique ability that we can transform into our life's work and passion."
The idea of everlastingness has stuck with me since I encountered the word way back in the early 2000s. It gave a name to how I wanted my life to become. Even before I fully understood and appreciated Joseph Campbell's hero journey and the final stage of bringing back the boon to share with the world. My desire to "make a difference" is more than satisfying an ego that is hungry for recognition and validation. I really do want to make a difference. If I can make a difference in a single person's life such that the person is able, in turn, to contribute significantly to the larger scheme of Things, or becomes a crucial link in the chain that powers a positive shift or transformation, that if somehow I have been able to inspire, to encourage, or to feed a spirit what it needs, then my days would have truly counted.
You are to bring this treasure of understanding back and integrate it with rational life. It goes without saying, this is very difficult. Bringing the boon back can be even more difficult than going down into your depths in the first place...
I am in the middle of my life and I am a late bloomer. I seem to be in a perpetual state of trying to settle down, of being like other adults. But I am not settled down. I am restless and constantly pacing an invisible maze that goes deeper into an unseen centre. All I know is that a fraying thread connects my exhausted heart to that place where either a monster or a god dwells, patiently waiting.
Everything about my life now is in transition. A long process of movements and shifts. Countless detours, delays, and dead-ends.
I need a place to rest once in a while. A space to be quiet, where I can listen to my selves and feel through Things. I want to think loudly once in a while, and not be afraid.