I spent this past weekend on the road shaking hands with strangers while carrying an unsettling inner struggle.
I kept thinking about the idea of being with one person for whatever particular reason.
For the life I am living, for every connection I bind my life to lies a trail of other lives. For every sentiment I hold, exists a binary of other ridiculous thoughts.
I can’t help thinking the best thing anyone can ever do for themselves is to be open. Be open-minded; be open to experiences; be open to new beginnings and painful endings.
The idea of binding your life to one possibility such that you can’t imagine anything different is so self-limiting. It’s like closing off the possibility of ever being surprised by the unexpected because you’re so fixated on possibilities that ripple from the conception of one possibility.
I went through a lot of emotions this weekend. But most of all, I felt so so so alone. I also conversed with a lot of strangers this weekend. It made me both happy and sad. I kept thinking about the truth of the matter.
In these moments existed a magnitude of distance between me and these strangers. But also, in those moments existed a common ground to share sentiments. If we will it, who is to say there’s no room to grow from just a moment to a multitude of moments?
During all this, I kept thinking about just how much of myself I always to offer to people. Again, the giver will give and the taker will take.
I thought back to the perfect image of a guy I once thought was everything I’d ever wanted. And today the thought of him repulses me. Not for anything he did in particular. But for all the things he wouldn’t do for me. All the things he didn’t owe me, but I wanted still.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting something for yourself. It just sucks when you don’t get what you want. It really sucks to be in a position of wanting. For me, this always highlights my lack of control over variables that have a say in my life.
Like how this weekend I was burying a friend struggling to comprehend the big full stop his life has come to. I over thought so many what ifs, and they all held no answer. I felt an intense inability to move past this moment. When I finally ugly cried, I felt all the way helpless. This is it. A point where my human capabilities have no power.
This is it. Nothing more, nothing less. This is death. He is gone. This is it. There’s no space to ponder possibilities no more. And I should uproot those I had already planted and let go of.
Walking out of the graveyard, I wanted to lie on the grass and have a profound moment for his departure, but when I looked around the graveyard, all there was is stillness, graves, tombstones, paving, grass, trees and nothing. There was nothing to make sense of.
I called my best friend with little to say. Then I requested an Uber ride and conversed with the driver. I took in strangers more than I usually do, wondering what could they be thinking. I was also trying to make sense of where I was for the sake of doing so.
I had a conversation with a stranger who said he didn’t know how much he needed to talk about what was happening in his life until I started listening to him. I was happy I was of help but had no desire to listen no more than that.
The need to know more than I need to, as if life were a strategy to gain and possess wasn’t there. I felt so free. For the first time in a long time, I was free from the idea of possibilities.
I was happy for the possibilities that were happening in the moment and nothing more. Whatever else will come to pass will be exactly that. A thing that comes to pass.
I don’t know how to put it in words. I don’t know if this rambling is making sense, but I just feel so full and empty all the same.
I longed for both flow and permanence.
This weekend was permanent in one aspect and a passing moment in other ways.
The best of both worlds was conflicting. I don’t know. I feel conflicted by the passing moments, growing possibilities, struggling foundations and ending journeys of my life.