Wednesday, July 4, 2018
I sit here in the friction of my heart, restless.
Feeling like i could burst out of my own skin, almost on the verge of something, not sure if I should just drop it all and completely abscond into the greater world.
Abscond, what a delicious word.
Sometimes, my heart seesaws between responsibility and absolute reliability (i have this quite caring, mature, taking the world onto my shoulders side) and sheer spontaneity filled with a devil may care attitude (often epitomized in my generation with 'Yolo' and 'Wth').
Shirking responsibility within reason, disappearing into the mystery of the unknown world. Isn't this the tension we live in? The desire to be known, to know others deeply, fulfilling that deep seated longing to be accepted, to show our dark side and our vulnerabilites and to be accepted. To grow a garden and know our neighbors and put down roots. And then that other side, that says to hell with the status quo and the middle class life that speaks of diapers, morgages, conversations about grass seed and property taxes and how the world is going to hell in a 100% organic cotton handbasket. Forget the North American dream I'm gonna live in a Tiny House or even better, an upright Sprinter Van, become one with the mosquitoes and bears
and work remotely,
and make millions of dollars blogging....
Isn't that just .. another type of North American dream? My generations reaction to the previous ones stability? The #vanlife generation.
It's called sabotage.
We sabotage ourselves.
Comparison, jealousy, dissatisfaction and social pressures to conform, to be _________.
To be ____________________ (cool, desirable, unattached, sexy, intelligent, sophisticated, up to date on every pop culture reference.. the list goes on).
For me the thrill of absconding is always waiting for me. That childlike stubbornness, unwillingness to give in, a flash of the eyes and a 'I'll show you' toss of the head as I leave you in my dust.
And yet, at the end of the day, a resignation to the responsibilities. To a desire to leave the world just a little bit better than it was yesterday.. a total refusal to let the evil steal my joy and so I fantasize about kicking 'it' in the face. Those sour memories of being the one left holding the bag, the disappointment in the ones who absconded without you, left you to clean up the mess. The looks of disappointment in faces of those you let down, who trusted in you. A belief in the importance of finishing what I started. Knowing when your heart is deceiving you with the niggles of comparison and knowing when you really need to throw off the shackles and run free through that field of flowers. When you need to slip off your shoes and dance barefoot in an empty room.
To dwell in this friction.
To be human, in this broken, marvelous, wild world.
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