WRITING: Taren Maroun / IMAGE: Elder Macedo
October 18 2014
Today brings me no sense of direction. The silence and seamless nature of this perfectly white, perfectly limitless, space I find myself in is suffocating. I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, I drink, I walk to the couch and lay down, I read a few pages of whatever fantasy world I am currently exploring, I bore and return to my computer where I browse nothing, pointlessly, or worse yet busy myself with things I convince myself are important to fend of this feeling of lost-purpose that threatens to swallow me whole.
Today I feel stuck in this tangible experience. My soul feels it should be floating through the cosmos. I imagine myself floating in the darkness and empty warmth of space, surrounded by a million glittering lights. I feel I should be drinking in the stars.
I read this now, July 3 2015 and I-- feel. I feel so much of this. Not in the sense of I am currently living it, but I feel it as I felt it the day I wrote it.
I see the blank space, the white washed walls where my destiny was once scrawled in a vibrant shade of hope and faith. I see my lack of direction, the silent echoes of every step I did not take that day reverberate through me. I see myself lost in the silence of indecision. It's all there, laid out before me and I feel it deeply, but more importantly I think is the understanding I have now: life did not come to a halt when I arrived in the empty corners of my mind.
Monotony. A dirty word. A reality-- but also a choice. The dangerous part about monotony is its appealing nature; the comfort that can be found in the repetition. A monotonous lifestyle, when stoked, leads to madness and is usually, quickly, followed by the need to numb ourselves to cope with the sense of death that mercilessly buries our once vivacious spirit. Once silenced, we begin to seek security in the predictable nothingness, convinced we feel more alive when we know what is coming. All the while our spirit continues to twist and fold in on itself, alive, but trapped.
We are not lost to ourselves, though. There is hope in that we are the masters of our perspective and choices. We get to choose to keep moving forward. We choose to believe that the downswing of the pendulum will not be the last stoke in our existence. The truth that we are not created for a tamed spirit is proven in the glimpses of life that leave us screaming and thrashing within ourselves. For all the agony and confusion they cause in our kingdom of carefully constructed control and understanding, I think those little moments are our lifelines to freedom.
Hold tight, hold fast. A simple statement and yet it ripples through me. A reminder that even while standing silent in the white, empty wilderness, or wading through the damp, midnight caverns, the cycle of life, learning and growth will always come full circle into the light.
Breaking the cycle is possible, but first we must accept that monotony is not to blame. In fact monotony does not exist without the power we give it. Our decision to feed the beast, to rest in false comfort, that is the real death. But freedom is within us. It is simply a choice; to see each moment as an opportunity to expand and enjoy, to stop the mindlessness and live with intention. Our mind is our weapon against the death of ourselves. Equip it with the truth that ahead of you is the upswing and fulfillment of all things big and beautiful so that even at the lowest point of your arc you will live in a space of hope.
Hope is the key to making monotony your bitch. Choose it, because- why not?