On reflexive reflexivity… Mon cheri gave me a card saying It’s all bout me, meaning that the life should be all about me and that I should start spending more my time of myself instead of others. This concept was rather unfamiliar to me. I knew that my favoutire past time was wondering. That is have I got to familiarise myself with London, just by walking everywhere. Sometimes I would come across interesting and fascinating places, interesting people ( I cannot call them any other way, as because of my shyness I would never know them beyond the surface, however the surface is something I would like to call ‘interesting’ as I feel there is something more beyond the surface, but not known to me.) I would discover new places, spaces, people, books, things… sometimes I would come back empty after my journeys, but most often these journeys would make me think about the things I seen. I would be quite obsest about it. I would go everywhere by foot, sometimes for about 10 hours – if I had any companions they would complain and show me their blisters at the end of the day. It was my time for thinking, exercise and ideas – it was a time I could call mine. The way my life changed and responsibilities grew, the time spent walking reduced till I almost forgot about it. The walking would be a passage to get from one place to another. Most often rushed and half walked, half ran. It didn’t give me any time to reflect, only reflect on the time that would be running with me. I feel that with the loss of my wondering, I kind of grew up and became more serious, it made me different. The article I recently read about the gender roles and attitude towards time and space. The role of a woman is caring, caring for others who need it and don’t. I take care of my mother, sometimes in my mind, sometime physically, I do jobs that require caring – restaurants, helping more seniors with their jobs. It is all about meeting other people’s needs. However the post modern way of seeing life is like a pilgrimage. A film like ‘The Way’ comes to mind. I find it absolutely fascinating, and I would like to be part of that pilgrimage. Pilgrimage to uncover the life outside me that would ultimately change the life inside me. But should I perhaps reverse these roles? Perhaps there is the time in my life where I should observe what is going inside my in order to observe what is outside. I guess many people would come across this change and what is going on outside does not satisfy or give as many answers as observing from in inside. Understanding oneself from inside so the outside make more sense. The common sense… An interesting concept… All senses used together in order to make sense and create sense. Does anyone think it that way? I have been told and by looking at some old pictures and writings I can admit to myself that I have changed. This feeling is all together scary and uncanny. Felling of loosing oneself, like changing the skin, what I once liked I no longer do, and what I once disliked and thought repulsive I find acceptable now. Most often I guess is the first option. Feels like with the age or may be with the ‘experience’ I am closing down. Like a lotus at the sunset. It also true that what we feel is also not true – our senses trick us. Perhaps automatically putting them on the paper, if it possible at all or showing them in the image may help us to be untricked by them. Going beyond the surface, diving in the whirlpool of the confused and ever-changing thoughts. Flying or swimming with them for a moment and crystallize them like a fossil or amber and add them to our collection that can be revisited and re-looked later. Instead of letting the it submerge us and eventually drown. The water of thoughts that plays a trick on us, by making as feel – feel something. The thoughts should be left to crystallize instead of being analyzed. By analyzing we put another dimension, another pool of water that washes away what has been found. It washes the thoughts like water washed the stone, till it becomes slippery and unusable, and eventually destroyed. Fixing oneself to something is not an answer either.
Free-writing, Saturday, 28th July