Tag: meaning

082b – seriousness

Thinking about meaning and usefulness lately.  

re: meaning 

Lately I’m realising I do like assigning meaning to things. (I mean, I’ve always known this but it’s only lately I’m realising how automatic, strong and frequent this process is for me.) Obviously, this contradicts a little bit with mindfulness, and I’m still not sure how much I must allow myself to extract meaning out of events. Sometimes I think that we do have roles to play in this world, because otherwise there isn’t a point. 

Or if life or sentience is even, simply put, a random occurrence, even then, if assigning meaning to it makes it easier for me— then why not? 

I suppose it is only the “attachment” to the meaning (whatever that is for you) that might make it a problem. I guess, if we can practice connected detachment, then meaning can probably serve as a good guiding star. 

What is the problem, then? I suppose the problem is it’s hard to keep a check on how far you can constantly get lost in the narrative. If you don’t keep your meaning-assigning-parts in check, or if you don’t regularly question them, or put them through scrutiny filters, you might end up away from awareness. 

Okay, where is all this coming from? 

I was having a discussion with some people and someone claimed that “life shouldn’t be too serious” and I think I got somewhat triggered by that statement. I went on a bit of speech on how “life is serious, actually” and how there’s wars happening and how people aren’t being nice and kind to each other and all of that is serious. But now that I recognise that maybe that’s not what that person was claiming at all, I suppose, I need to apologise to them. (Oops) 

But I do feel strongly about how humanity needs to be better. I don’t know what this is exactly but I clearly need to explore this more, otherwise I might get keep getting triggered every time someone says anything along the lines of “life isn’t that serious”. 

Of course, I recently came across this which I’m planning to read soon because it might be helpful for me. And something I read probably from the same essay was that the trick is to “not take your self too seriously but it’s okay to take your work seriously” and that does resonate with me a lot. I’ve now accepted that my work isn’t about me necessarily but I am the vessel that’s doing the work and for me to do it well it makes sense that I would take it seriously. Even if I’m having fun, I tend to be serious about having fun, if that makes any sense at all. And maybe another thing to remember is that people just function differently, maybe “taking things lightly” allows some people to live an easier life— and that’s okay— but for them to generalise this for everyone is what I don’t necessarily like. 

So, I suppose part of the problem is just accepting that I am a serious person and I do take “life” and the world and many things that we have in front of us seriously. Whatever that means, really. 

I’ll talk about usefulness another time, I don’t feel like getting into it at the moment. 

Happy last day of 2023, I hope you don’t resist whatever comes your way 🙂 

008a – appreciation for the sea

She stands at the edge of the pier, staring into the water the surface of which glistens brightly under the evening sky. She wishes the waves would meet her eyes and bring answers to questions she doesn’t know she has. Another lost soul makes its way to where she stands, but she doesn’t turn around – she fears she’ll see herself in them. She doesn’t turn around, she fears she might have to acknowledge their presence, she’s not done grieving the lost ones yet. She stares into the sea, hoping it’s her desperation that’s making it talk, and not the moon that’s barely visible tonight.

She hears voices float towards her from a little far away, a family of four out for fun, out practicing, trying to catch fish. She hears the voices but she doesn’t pay attention to them, she’s hoping the ripples and the waves will somehow fuse to make the sound that she really wants to hear. The sounds of the lost ones.

She’s been coming here for the last seven days, seeking and saying goodbye at the same time. She fears being recognized. She thinks if someone saw her twice they’d know what was happening, they’d know she’s been grieving. She’s shared her grief with everyone who’s listened, yet tonight she doesn’t want to be seen. Not unless that can bring her comfort.

She’s listened to Atlas Hands for hours and she’s found comfort in the idea of a shared external world. She cannot reach the moon or the stars but she can get pretty close to the sea. This is the first time in years she’s glad she lives near the water. This is the first time she’s fully appreciated the sea and all it can be and everything it can mean.

She is falling in love again. She is transferring her love for another heart into the sea. She tries to draw the meaning out of the memories and pour it all out into the sea, where it can dissolve with the water and free her a little bit. She’s been doing this for seven days, or seventy, she’s not really sure.

She starts making her way back to her house, there’s real life she needs to get back to. She doesn’t really want to go back, it’s peaceful outside. There’s a homeless man sleeping near a sidewalk, she wonders if she’d ever survive a life like that. She sees a group of homeless men talking and laughing. She wonders if, in this moment, they’re happier than she feels. She pays attention to people on her way back. She feels drawn to them, in ways she can’t always describe to other people. She moves slowly, as if in a movie. Everything she perceives feels beautiful. Every noise musical, every movement graceful. 

She’s making room for the new ones and she doesn’t know it yet. She doesn’t know she’ll be thinking about this night a couple months later from now. She’s found meaning in life all by herself and she doesn’t know it yet. 

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