On one hand, I completely understand the desire of the people close to you to always see us happy and soaring. But, on the other hand, a person cannot constantly remain in a blissful state. Those who are constantly smiling are called idiots for a reason. Not an idiot will inevitably experience periods of decline and moments of weakness.
That’s what makes us human. And in general, all emotions are beautiful. The question is only what we do with these emotions, to what extent we are aware of our “failures” and “downfalls” – indicated in quotes because they are conditional – we simply got used to calling them that, but in essence, they are just steps in the learning process.
My moods, like those on a Sunday, are moments of conscious learning. It is in them that we develop and shape ourselves into our best versions. So, I would argue against the notion that “some other girl showed up.” It’s me, me, and me again. Without that girl, I wouldn’t be who I am now. Without those years of unawareness and torment in which I once drowned myself, there wouldn’t be the personality that – judging by your words – inspires you.
Without my Saturday hormonal neurosis, there wouldn’t have been the Sunday over-reassessment and reevaluation, which, overlaid with impressions of a morning book today, led me to an interesting process that was happening to me in the car on the way to work… And here’s what happened.
Here, I need to make a little lyrical digression about my mornings. Los Angeles Junes are famous for their morning gloom. The closer to July, the faster the sun rises, but I go to work by half past eight and wake up early, before the sun can break through the night’s grayness. As a person who is quite sun-dependent, not getting my dose upon waking up,
I sometimes struggle to immediately understand the reason why (besides enjoying the rays) I should get out of bed. The thing is, as soon as I see sunlight, I enter nirvana, and everything else usually doesn’t matter to me anymore, unless I burden myself with hormonal moods. And without the sun, nirvana rarely happens. So, lately in the mornings, due to the lack of quickly soluble nirvana, I’ve been searching for its replacement and sometimes not finding it, getting burdened day by day with the question: “But why?”
Fortunately, my life is full of things that still allow nirvana to seep into my consciousness. For example, the morning drive to work. Everything in it – from start to finish – is beautiful. Even the Los Angeles 405 freeway. I step out, all beautiful and fragrant with a golden Michael Kors bag in a courtyard with palm trees, sit in the incredibly comfortable seat of my Honda, start the almost silent engine, and slowly, without any nervousness, roll onto the freeway, which is almost right next to us.
I drive south to work and see how the world begins to flood with magical sunlight from the left. Even if it has to break through a gray veil, it shines incredibly beautifully on the roofs of cars coming towards me… It seems like the whole world is drowning in morning sunlight, and from this feeling, along with all the tactile joys, nirvana catches up with me and spreads throughout my body with one big warm internal kiss®.
And today, in this state of internal kissing, I remembered my morning post and realized everything once again at a new level. I scolded myself for being too quick to dive back into the idea of what I don’t have, forgetting about everything I do have. And I decided to remind myself, every day, to write down at least “5 reasons for (or why)” – what made me happy during the day and what I can happily wake up for in the mornings. I even set a reminder on my phone.
But that’s not all. When I started writing this post, I suddenly thought that all my bucket lists had disappeared somewhere – lists of what I still wanted to do (see, experience) in this life before… I suddenly realized that even when I was writing them, most of the components were things that “I think” I still wanted to do (see, experience) in this life, and that the real list probably (maybe not critically but still) differed from what I wrote before. The thing is, I never wrote this list truly realizing that bucket time would come, and indeed, it would be “painfully painful for aimlessly lived years,” but, the worst thing – it would be too late to mourn them…
So I decided that I would write a real list of what I want to do (see, experience) – what places to visit, what sensations to feel… And draw up a plan to achieve this list. What’s the use of a list if it lies as a dead piece of paper in the “long” drawer?
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