To Feel

It took one random urge to force me to go through my past on one random evening. As if my mind was telling me that what I was looking for lies there in the past, a moment that I didn’t realise I missed. Then I went through my old writings, even the ones I almost deleted, but for some reason kept in drafts where nobody has an access to except myself. And that was how it happened, how I encountered the old me, the younger me. I can feel the length and width of her mind, how much she tried to dive into the depth of almost everything she encountered along her journey into something so blurry she called the unknown. I can narrate precisely how deep her longing was to understand, and I could even feel her shaky legs - because the unknown is wild, and to turn it into the known meant leaving everything behind, to challenge her unsteady self, but to stay meant to rot.

I felt sorry for her, that years after that, she still couldn’t fathom the meaning of her own daily life, but also glad, because the journey is still far, and I know she hated thin books just as much as I do because then she’d run out of books to read. The ending shouldn’t come that fast. There should not be a shortcut. And there has never been a shortcut if we’re after the ultimate peacefulness. All these theories are easy readings, but theories don’t always mean knowledge since there is “know” in the knowledge and to know means to understand and to understand requires a whole experience. So, if I may suggest, let’s dwell into feelings.

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