I questioned myself these days, if I had identified myself as an editor, a writer, or a learner… that it seemed as if my passion for editing, writing and learning had suddenly become a chore. It was strange. It was not that I had nothing to write about, learn about, but there seemed some resistance in doing it. As if, the notion then was just to laze around and do nothing – not even groceries, banking or even watching tv. Everything just suddenly seemed unappealing to me.
When, has my passion become a chore that I’d have to compile with?
So what turned out to be my passion, I had identified with as my identity. It is like – G writes, G edits, G sings, G loves photography, G thrives to learn… While I admit that these were all attributes from my thirst to fulfill the heart’s desire to bring joy to my being then, I had come to realize these days that I had become picky with experiences. And each time I am put in a situation where I conditionally choose my experiences, I am still more inclined to fulfill another’s need to write, to edit, to sing, to learn; rather than honoring my own pace of things.
The truth is that our mental states change all the time. This hour I may love taking pictures; this hour, I may love to read; or perhaps this hour, I may just love to laze around, look up at the ceiling and do nothing. Who’s going to sue me? Nobody!! But guess what, I was the one constantly counting if I did or did not do this or that; just to keep up with the personality, or rather identity that I had unconsciously characterized myself with. Suddenly, I had to ‘live’ up with that identity, just to assure myself that I am still ‘somebody’.
It was amazing when I finally looked at myself into the mirror, I saw nothing but a mask, a strait of characteristics of what ‘I think I am’, when I am none of it as I see past the façade that I hung on to. Boy, was it a scary experience! To be nothing! To be nobody! And yet, there was a resounding sense of indescribable freedom, peace and joy; free from judgments of myself. So the resentment and stress were only an indication of how I had ‘forced’ myself to live up with an identity when no one else really bothers! Seriously, even if it does bother others, would it have anything to do with me?
The ending of this, was a chuckle. A chortle of realization – the expectations, stresses, limitations that I had put onto myself so just to be ‘someone’. Do I really need to be someone? In the stillness of my heart, there is no one; so what is there to be, but what is, at that precise moment of myself. In that space, I find so much appreciation and love for myself, an immerse joy that accompanies.
Need I say more?