So. What do you want?
Feb. 22nd, 2008 11:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_fantastic_ms_foxLooking forward over the next months and years, I can see a lot of long-term endeavors that have structured my life coming to an end.
And then what?
Let's keep in mind that structure, purpose and meaning are a matter of perception.
I started asking myself this question just shy of two years ago. I stopped thinking of what I should do (whatever that means), and instead turned towards what I want. Or what makes me happy. Or whatever is worth it to me.
"What I should do?" What does that mean? According to whom? Do I actually know what this person's (or principle's or deity's) opinion is, or am I projecting my own fear of getting what I want?
In any case, asking the self, as a prelude to honouring, exploring and finally being the self, is part of the key to beating what's wrong with your life. It's also one of the reasons that my great-grandmother was reluctant to read tea leaves, and why I treat ecstatic knowledge with kid gloves: sometimes you don't get answers you like.
And even when you like them, they're probably not easy. And if you're asking these kind of questions in the first place, you're probably not looknig for easy answers.
So. I asked and the answers involved let the relationship go, change your sex and go back to school; three things that I was scared and ashamed to do - the latter two begat a sort of hiatus from other tasks. It was a good call.
But now that I have done what I want instead of what I should(?) once, maybe I can get into the swing of it again? But those were not easy things, and I'm afraid to ask again for fear of another laundry list of difficult tasks.
Of course, of the prior three tasks, dealing with the relationship had been coming for a season, school for six months or a year or more, and sex for more than a decade. So maybe there won't be as big a backlog this time.
And the things that I know that I want aren't as scary. A romantic relationship. Sex. A home with two or more people in it. Some sort of work that I find rewarding. For the hair over my ears to be short enough that I can feel the wind through it (I really do like it). A dog. The feeling that I am making the world a better place*. More healthy food. Art.
What else? What's this feeling of "my life is messed up. Fix it."
* Mmm. No. Wait. Actually, this one is a problem. And it's scary. I have some pretty crazy ideas. Maybe that's what's bothering me?
And then what?
Let's keep in mind that structure, purpose and meaning are a matter of perception.
I started asking myself this question just shy of two years ago. I stopped thinking of what I should do (whatever that means), and instead turned towards what I want. Or what makes me happy. Or whatever is worth it to me.
"What I should do?" What does that mean? According to whom? Do I actually know what this person's (or principle's or deity's) opinion is, or am I projecting my own fear of getting what I want?
In any case, asking the self, as a prelude to honouring, exploring and finally being the self, is part of the key to beating what's wrong with your life. It's also one of the reasons that my great-grandmother was reluctant to read tea leaves, and why I treat ecstatic knowledge with kid gloves: sometimes you don't get answers you like.
And even when you like them, they're probably not easy. And if you're asking these kind of questions in the first place, you're probably not looknig for easy answers.
So. I asked and the answers involved let the relationship go, change your sex and go back to school; three things that I was scared and ashamed to do - the latter two begat a sort of hiatus from other tasks. It was a good call.
But now that I have done what I want instead of what I should(?) once, maybe I can get into the swing of it again? But those were not easy things, and I'm afraid to ask again for fear of another laundry list of difficult tasks.
Of course, of the prior three tasks, dealing with the relationship had been coming for a season, school for six months or a year or more, and sex for more than a decade. So maybe there won't be as big a backlog this time.
And the things that I know that I want aren't as scary. A romantic relationship. Sex. A home with two or more people in it. Some sort of work that I find rewarding. For the hair over my ears to be short enough that I can feel the wind through it (I really do like it). A dog. The feeling that I am making the world a better place*. More healthy food. Art.
What else? What's this feeling of "my life is messed up. Fix it."
* Mmm. No. Wait. Actually, this one is a problem. And it's scary. I have some pretty crazy ideas. Maybe that's what's bothering me?