Oh, if I must, then I shall. Writing a diary is something that I have done for many years, in a sporadic way. Usually only when my mind was in particular turmoil, when a wave of emotion flows over me or a multitude of complex thoughts and contradictory arguments cloud my judgement of where I should go from here. Putting pen to paper has helped in such circumstances, so I suppose this should be the next step.
Lord Byron said ‘If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad.’ Which sums it up nicely.
Who am I? Factually, that is not important. To me, that question pervades my life. To find meaning in my actions and thoughts, is a core part of my motivation for existence. If I cannot find said meaning, it is merely that – an existence. On days where this happens, my soul cries for itself, and wonders why we are all here.
Luckily, these days are rare – I take certain precautions to prevent them, as I know they have power to ruin the lives of others along with myself. I will not allow them to over-run me – I may be decadent and subject to temptation (more on that another time – there are several volumes of non-fiction and debate in that topic), but I truly believe that I should have a purpose in life, and that this should drive my actions for the better. I am irritatingly strong-willed at some subjects, and annoyingly compliant on others. I’m sure I am both hated and loved for both.
What is ‘better’? Well it means doing something that is useful to me or to others.
The trouble is, do I depress the natural wave in favour of stability. Am I cutting off the wonderful expressions of joy, the flights over the rooftops, soaring joyously through the sunlit skies without knowing what they feel like? I don’t know. I could be. In fact I’m sure that may be the case. There are few opportunities for such ecstasy, and so should I be limiting myself to hovering at 1st or 2nd floor level, tethered by a training (or should that say ‘irritating and hateful’) rope, never to know the freedom others experience.
I have made my choice, for now. Who knows what will happen tomorrow.
The sadness is the impact of the groins that control the waves. It’s a sacrifice that you make, choosing the peace in the middle, rather than allowing the heights to rise and the depths to plumb. In the rather unacademic words of a more recent ‘poet’ Mr W Young – ‘if I lose the highs, at least I’m spared the lows’. He’s been there clearly. The choice is mediocrity, banality, boredom, in the middle – where you just ache to see those views once again.
But my freedom is not just in the skies, there are the depths of the ocean to consider. Could I find joy swimming under the crystal cloth, eternal and supported in its glistening and engulfing substance? Possibly. I write. My mind is free – to say what I feel and share these ramblings with like minded souls – whether they agree or disagree with the themes – they are my themes, and help me find my own peace.
One day it will be peace. Another day it will be turmoil. Most days, it will be somewhere in between. Perhaps that is the normal sphere of things, and I should accept with good grace. After all, it would be pretentious to believe I am any different than anyone else…
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