reflections of reflections
A friend (hopefully to be thought of as a good friend shortly) told me that my previous blog post was depressing. And I certainly agree. But isn't that just a reflection of what life in general is - at least for the vast majority of people living in a relatively industrialized nation, situated in middle-class etc?
Life is confusing. It obscures the real things that we want (and of course, we're definitely excellent at obscuring many things ourselves), it obfuscates our next step and choices - in a word, life is... harsh. I highly doubt that life would be "life" otherwise. Besides, life wouldn't be fun if it were a stroll in the park.
Which leads me to what I'm trying to say.
How do we react to life - or the things that constitute life, rather - a close friend reacts to it with grace, open arms, happiness (you know who you are, babe), another close friend confronts life with his intellect and intuitions, while the Abovementioned Friend... as far as I can tell, has developed a classic Stoic (in the ancient-Greek-school-of-thought sense) approach to it. We tend to think of that attitude as cynical. But without lapsing into inane philosopher-speak, I don't think it's "cynical". After all, she's not the only one who's got that attitude.
It's hard to pin down this notion of detachment. How can you explain this concept without actually being engaged in it? And that clearly violates the concept of detachment. It may sound crazy, but I think it's possible. It's like being able to see your back without a mirror. This feeling of remoteness - or as portrayed by that "fucking beatific" visual image of hers - is odd (in and of itself), to say the very least.
In the back of my mind, I'm afraid for her, simply because I'm so familiar with that feeling of remoteness and detachment from oneself that I actually am afraid of letting those feelings go. They've become a part of me, and I cannot drop those feelings and not lose a part of myself. Because of these feelings, I can't seem to relate to people on emotional levels any longer. I'm hiding in my little comfortable corner of a padded room, seeking security in my own mind and own company. I've become so wary of people that it's utterly impossible to make new friends. I tell myself, it's my life, and I have to live it myself. It's harsh, nasty, brutish, and often solitary. Although I do indeed find myself feeling lonely and utterly glossed over many times (even in public situations), I just can't let go of my grip on Remoteness and Detachment.
I don't wish that on her. I see too much of myself in her, and it scares me sometimes. I don't know if it's due to growing up in Singapore, being educated in an oppressive country, or if this is just one of those wholly random meetings of two similar personalities in life. Whatever it is, I hope she doesn't end up like me.
Self-pity? Not in a million years. It's amazing how quickly people "read in-between the lines" and pass a value judgment. This is a mere reflection on a (good and close) friend's self-reflection. After all, the Self is defined through the Other.
Life is confusing. It obscures the real things that we want (and of course, we're definitely excellent at obscuring many things ourselves), it obfuscates our next step and choices - in a word, life is... harsh. I highly doubt that life would be "life" otherwise. Besides, life wouldn't be fun if it were a stroll in the park.
Which leads me to what I'm trying to say.
How do we react to life - or the things that constitute life, rather - a close friend reacts to it with grace, open arms, happiness (you know who you are, babe), another close friend confronts life with his intellect and intuitions, while the Abovementioned Friend... as far as I can tell, has developed a classic Stoic (in the ancient-Greek-school-of-thought sense) approach to it. We tend to think of that attitude as cynical. But without lapsing into inane philosopher-speak, I don't think it's "cynical". After all, she's not the only one who's got that attitude.
It's hard to pin down this notion of detachment. How can you explain this concept without actually being engaged in it? And that clearly violates the concept of detachment. It may sound crazy, but I think it's possible. It's like being able to see your back without a mirror. This feeling of remoteness - or as portrayed by that "fucking beatific" visual image of hers - is odd (in and of itself), to say the very least.
In the back of my mind, I'm afraid for her, simply because I'm so familiar with that feeling of remoteness and detachment from oneself that I actually am afraid of letting those feelings go. They've become a part of me, and I cannot drop those feelings and not lose a part of myself. Because of these feelings, I can't seem to relate to people on emotional levels any longer. I'm hiding in my little comfortable corner of a padded room, seeking security in my own mind and own company. I've become so wary of people that it's utterly impossible to make new friends. I tell myself, it's my life, and I have to live it myself. It's harsh, nasty, brutish, and often solitary. Although I do indeed find myself feeling lonely and utterly glossed over many times (even in public situations), I just can't let go of my grip on Remoteness and Detachment.
I don't wish that on her. I see too much of myself in her, and it scares me sometimes. I don't know if it's due to growing up in Singapore, being educated in an oppressive country, or if this is just one of those wholly random meetings of two similar personalities in life. Whatever it is, I hope she doesn't end up like me.
Self-pity? Not in a million years. It's amazing how quickly people "read in-between the lines" and pass a value judgment. This is a mere reflection on a (good and close) friend's self-reflection. After all, the Self is defined through the Other.
NIGEL
6:59 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home