In years past, I’ve written a lot about the way I specifically view things. Now I’m glad I have stopped engaging in such intense teleology.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still. In previous posts, I would have said, “I’m here to be me”–a nice loop that’s a favorite at parties. It doesn’t mean it’s not useful. Truly, I am here to do what I was put here to do. But it’s a self-possessed, chosen cartography that I climb and scale every day now.
After a long time of waiting for the right moment to just be, I’m finally coming up to the mountain pass where I can see the sun rise.
If you follow my writer’s website, you’ll notice in my work that this is reflected similarly, too. All the techniques I absorbed (somewhat mindlessly at first) as a teenager and younger adult have come out in more condensed and choreographed form.
For anyone who hesitates to take the leap into a certain hobby: from what I’ve learned, it takes more passion than it does raw processing power. And if I ever seemed intelligent to you, I can assure you I am not. I’m actually a slow thinker, thinking in spirals most of the time when stressed. Somehow within the past three months my abilities clicked like a harpoon getting ready to fire.
And off I went.
Plus, as the year closes, I always reflect. My mind gets into a state, much like the fallen leaves or chilled grass, of quieter inertia. I begin to think about not what I could have done differently or turn to regret. Instead, I’m left feeling a buzz of cheer (likely not from the holidays) of memory.
My mind holds memory in not only what has been, but all other timelines combined. They beat together in one waveform, trying to find harmonization. My mother’s smile from last week turns into hers from six months ago, from five years ago–and now, what might be an even more radiant one in the new year if I work hard at it.
Most people probably don’t do that, and in the past I might’ve gotten freaked out by that, or maybe disheartened. I’ve always been a gentle sort of independent and a bit stubborn. My emotions come second, though, and it shows. In the next year, I hope that changes.
I usually don’t speak my mind out loud with people I don’t know. It’s a thing. Is it culturally American? Probably not broadly, from the way the news portrays us “monolithically” as a gaggle of screeching, LARPing buffoons. But I still hold out hope.
Because I don’t do that, some people have the wrong idea about me. Am I aloof? Am I weird? Am I arrogant? Am I stiff? No, none of those. Just… observing. Maybe bored. Gassy?
Even though that happens, gradually, as I’ve been summitting mountains, sloshing through valleys, and pausing at oases, I realized I am confident. It, though, like pushing through daily hurdles, is an inconsistent drum rattle.
Some followers from other blogs I’ve had know me as the person who might have something thoughtful to say. Maybe this was thoughtful, I don’t know.
Either way, to sum it up, when years come to an end, my cultural sensitivities kick in and I pop out the presents, give hugs, share small joys. But inwardly, I am growing, watching, changing. It’s said that “people never change,” and maybe I’m not doing any of what I see in myself. Maybe I’m just becoming more… “me.”
It doesn’t matter, though. We have rituals for a reason. It’s so we can see these milestones glow, even as life smacks at us, even as the world grows older.
Regardless of where you are in the world, or who you may be, may you continue searching. For what? Maybe the next great pizza, or a companion for treasure hunting. Or maybe just the “you” that can reflect without feeling like a burden to yourself.
Images by Pascal Debrunner + Planet Volumes.
The Self-Styled Scholar 