There comes a time in our lives when we’re more real than usual. Some people say it has to do with getting in touch with ourselves.
Most of the time we run our lives responding to events and ideas. Sadly our own ideas tend to be our worst enemies in the course of events.
It is so easy keeping a busy life in our, desolate, modern times. We make families and friends, we carve out a career, we find ourselves some hobbies and interests. We keep busy with all the things we’ve set out to do and we rarely get a moment of quiet reflection.
As if to make things more difficult, we don’t have myth anymore, we’ve denounced religion as being evil, empty and pointless, except for the few to silly too realise. Which in turn strips us of the ability to immerse in the quiet moments and reflect on the wonder of being.
The wonder, that I am who I am, and that I realize it as the I. As you do also. To reflect on this wonder, to connect with it, and instantly sense the wonder of the whole universe, sensing it’s I. The great miracle, that the I, the Me, didn’t have to be, that it is a miracle, a wonder, that it is.
Instead the quiet must be filled! Filled with noise, filled with activity, filled with stimulation of the senses. Filled, no matter what.
At work we are immersed in other peoples ideas and events, often unforseen. As it is so difficult to hold your own in society, you feel you don’t have a choice but to play ball. If you choose not to play with ideas of your immediate social structure, you face the worst of punishment: You’re not in. So you play ball, you take part. You keep busy with all the requirements that follow.
Keeping busy with the requirements has a hefty pricetag. Keeping your car up to date. Keeping your wardrobe modern and in fashion. Being regular at the Gym so you look just about right. Make sure your kids tend to sports or music lessons. Most of all keep a modern beautiful home.
The list goes on and varies according to each persons circle, turning into a lifestyle of choice.
Modernity might be destitude of myth and content, but it is far from empty of choices. What make of car do you want? What type of hobbies can you find. Whatever your desire, you can have it, for a prize. If you come up short in cash, you can take out a loan, as long as you have a career and a promise to stay on track.
Before you know it you’re a slave, not to your loans, oh no. Slave to the ideas evolving around you. Every moment of silence coming your way, silence of the kind which forces you to reflect, makes you itchy. You feel the itch to suffocate on this and you wish for freedom, but you move only further along the road. Along the lifestyle, along the “who you are” in the world of tastes, opinions and attitude; or simply the world of ideas.
Life moves on and you have so many choices, so many options, so much to do, you forget who you are. You forget the dreams of your childhood. The very dreams that made you start out on your road. The dreams you betrayed and forgot, which in your grownup years seem so childish and even foolish.
And how did I break out of the hypnotism?
- I chose to reflect.
- I chose to stop in my tracks.
- I chose, not to play ball.
- I chose my Self (not the self).
- The journey out took about a year.
- And I found it, the something that cannot be named.
In solitude of my spirit I have found again myth, and reinspired Faith. I have reconnected with the animals in my house. I have found again the reason for joy. I have immersed myself in the fight against my own inner demons, and perhaps some others mixed in between.
I have lost much. I have gained everything.
Yet I am nothing, and I have nothing.