Late and I don’t think I’m going to sleep. I’m already waking up early to take a friend to the airport by 6 am.
I had a good day today. Situations and conversations that usually leave me fumbling my words went smoothly. I was relaxed.
But throughout the day one thing has been bothering me. It’s a topic that I’ve been circling since I was travelling and spending so much time alone:
We are very good at lying to ourselves. It is easy to make our lives more dramatic and see ourselves as ever-suffering, like the hero or heroine of a dramatic Russian tragedy. Romanticizing our struggles might lead to some false acceptance, but underneath that charade we feel even worse. I will always be alone—no one will ever understand me—I will always fail—etc.
It’s too easy to want the unreachable, the impossible, the too-distant, and the unavailable. Whether it’s a person or job or place or activity, lusting after what can’t or won’t happen is an excuse to keep from pursuing the things that can happen.
Maybe instead of throwing ourselves in front of a passing train, we need to embark.