I don't know what's harder, to not feel anything at all or to be able to feel with great depth about something which only remains a possibility. I still struggle with possibilities, many years on. It's this scar that refuses to go away no matter how hard I try to ignore it. Perhaps it's how I function as a person. Perhaps some people are able to shrug possibilities away easier than I ever can, as long as they see that the possibility of these possibilities turning into reality is low. But it's hard to construct feelings that way. Once I feel, I feel. And this is where I would experience a great deal of internal conflict. Are these feelings real or imagined? Have I always conflated the actuality of these feelings together with how I actually want to feel about it? Have I unwittingly intensify and glorify feelings more than it really is originally? That's the scary thing about possibilities. It is open ended, leaving to us how we want it to be written. And I wrote and re-wrote. Each time with a certain hope of a happy ending or a happy beginning. I write the same thing each time. I tried writing it differently but of course it doesn't sit very well with me. Because I cannot lie to myself that way. Is it okay then that the very being of you go through life with possibilities and just be okay with them remaining that way forever? Or is it better to then not have any glimpses of possibility and live a life with more clarity?
Oh who am I kidding? I wrote a post previously on the importance of mobility. But going further than that, it is the social encounters that make up the foundation of human experience living under this same canopy we call earth and sharing this home alongside others. To the first moment babies acquaint themselves with the world, having the first touch, hearing the sounds of a laughter, whimper, sigh, silent smile, and modelling on the external world to distinguish safety from danger, right from wrong, norms from exceptions. It is the everyday social experiences of walking out on the streets and seeing people doing their own thing - the mother reprimanding the child, the young man awkwardly fishing his pockets at the entrance of the bus, a fragile old woman taking her time to walk up the stairs, the sound of aggressive haggling at the market. And then there are those two close friends insisting they each want to pay the bill for the other, a group of boisterous teenagers disrupting your ...
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