As I urge this little note into some form of tangible existence, I’m forced to recollect with a certain sense of nostalgia all the events that worked to give it life.
Peace of mind is a strained concept. We often in fact experience it, but never really know we’re waist deep within its warm embrace, instead, were rather unsettled by its uncomfortable sense of quiet and calm. So we grab the nearest stick, waving our arms around, striking the peace all around us, causing ripples.
If only we would realize.. It is not the peace we’re trying to dispel, it’s the unfamiliar sense of being, of existing within ourselves, completely self reliant. We’re completely uneasy with the knowledge that we can survive within ourselves, because we’ve always been taught from a very early age to rely on others. For guidance, for support, for functioning as social beings.
Armed with the sticks made up of these frivolities, we strike at our peace, before it gets a chance to concretize and become permanent.
Over the past few months, a growing sense of discordance has begun to settle into my life. Something does not seem to resound with how my life should’ve been, something seems greatly amiss from my ideal life.
I’ve not been able to let go.
Of situations, of people, of thoughts, of possessions, of life..
Made I’ve not yet made up my mind if I want to exist as I truly should, or want to continue this existence where I conform to the notions people have set. For if I wanted it, if I truly did, nothing would be able to restraint me. Shackles of iron would seem to be inefficient..
My sense of peace comes from knowing myself, from knowing my situations and after my analysis, from being able to let go and completely detach.
Lately, detachment seems a bit tough to say the least..
Soon..
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