To Understand, To Unite

Posted by Sebastyn in Introspective, My Favourite Posts | 0 comments

I’ve been reading a book by Laura Carroll, the childfree author, but instead of picking up her book of childfree experiences, I bought a copy of her book Finding Fulfilment From the Inside Out. I’m about half way through, but already I feel I need to share some insights that I got from reading it.

Although the book starts out quite far from where I was at, namely thinking possessions will bring you fulfilment, which to me sounds such a ridiculous idea that I wonder if anyone really can believe that, after the first chapters I got closer to where I needed to start digging. Earlier on, I’ve said that I live to understand. I need to know how people work, what makes them do what they do, think what they think… There is more to it though, and Laura’s book as really helped me to pin point some of the truly important things. All point to the same thing: I need to understand and connect to life. Which is kind of funny, because during my darkest days I claim that life (as we know it) doesn’t matter and that it is a sentence, not a gift. But on the other hand, I do believe in an immortal soul, and I think on my darkest days I feel too disconnected from the very essence of life, the spirit, all that connects us, that I just want to get rid of my body and be free to join the source again.

I also made the Myers-Brigs personality test once more, and came to the result that I’m a cross between (predominately) INFP, the idealist and ISFP, the artist. I could have written the description of the idealist myself, about myself, with the exception that I do enjoy conflict when I find there’s a good enough reason for it – when one of my core values has been… offended. I wouldn’t say violated, but offended. And what I find offensive is lies and injustice. And I don’t mean in the grand scale, but in relationships between people around me. I can turn on a friend in a split second if he or she offends truth or justice, and I know who is the object of the insult. I am a defender and a protector, one that stands between the lie and the truth. Normally I’m pretty good at picking friends that respect these values, but on an occasion I get sucked into friendships I don’t really value… I buy lies, that is, but once I find them out I don’t tolerate it for a second. I also figured out why. Lies are what keeps us from our core, the spirit, and my need to connect to the Great Spirit through myself and through other living things is essential. When people lie about who they are, they waste my time. I don’t have any use, need or sympathy for people who prevent me from getting to the core.

I have known for the longest time that I am here to write, but for what purpose, I wasn’t quite sure until I picked up Laura’s book. In the first pages, she advises us to focus on our core and ask it what it wants. Mine replied with rather frustrated, yet amused tone of voice: “READ!! Fucking READ!! …and then write.” (What a crude spirit I have, I bet it wanted to continue: “you effin’ idiot!” at the end of it.) I laughed at it, and thought: “Of course.” Reading is something I’ve been neglecting for a long time. I do read, but I don’t… submerge into it. I scan, hurry through pages on the internet, and magazines, but as lot of it isn’t really the kind of reading material that my spirit graves, I have turned more into writing, producing the kind of reading material I need. (I often read what I wrote myself over and over… *blush*) But I know what my spirit means. I need to find some quality reading, something… published, as opposed to self-published.

I also have a deep connection to animals and trees. I weep when I watch nature shows, and not when animals get killed, but when they show emotion. Sometimes the narrator says there seems to be no explanation why the animals would behave the way they do, as there seems not to be any sort of biological benefit for their behaviour, and I think: “Maybe they’re just having fun.” And then I cry. :p Sadly, as of late I rarely get to go into forests, but luckily I have my dog who loves looking into your eyes. It’s an important quality in a dog for my kind, I can gaze into his eyes and he looks back. It’s a connection like no other. (The bugger just moved next to me. He’s looking at me telling it’s his dinner time. You could adjust your watch based on his requirement for food.) I believe my spirit would be quite happy to be more active with animals, I’m thinking of volunteering for RSPCA, but worry I couldn’t cope with all the horrible things I’d see.

What I found interesting in this discovery too, was that the interests I had as a kid are kind of symbolic to what I obsess over now. The first thing I thought of when the question was asked, was a two dimensional paper doll house I used to draw. I stapled two papers together, and on the outside I drew the house walls and in the inside I drew the furniture, and then I cut out some little flat paper people to live in it. It was an expression of a story I read, about a painting that came alive. I so wanted to see the life of flat people, what would that be like? (To understand.)

Then, the forests. I remember countless times sitting in a car staring out of the window looking into the forest; deeper, deeper. As deep as I could see into the forest, marvelling at the thought that deep in there were no humans, but free, wild animals. I always want to go deeper, into the soul of things. I need to understand and to connect with it. The same fascination I had with caves. There was no real caves where I lived, but we had a Commodore 64 that we played with. I loved the kind of games where the character would go into under ground tunnels to discover things. (Deeper, into things.)

History also enthralled me. I loved old things, old houses and stories from historical people. I was bitterly disappointed at school though when history lessons started, and it was all just numbers and names of some boring states men and averages and the sort. I wanted to know what people of old times felt, thought, what their lives were truly like. I wanted to connect with them. My mother had a bunch of sisters, and particularly one of them was never tired of telling us stories of when they were little. I could have spent hours listening to the same stories over and over, just one more story! I feel I almost lived my mother’s childhood with her sister, and luckily my father’s sister was quite good at recalling things as well. My mother however to my bitter disappointment most often responded to my plea of stories of when she was little by saying: “I don’t remember.” I decided I would never forget. And I haven’t. I nurture my memories like the greatest treasures, even the horrible ones, the embarrassing ones.

One of my painful childhood memories are from my pre-teen and teen years. I felt utterly alone. (INFP-trait, apparently.) I wrote diaries after diaries. There’s ton of them back in my childhood home. I dreamed of a time when someone would find them and feel an emotional connection to me, and I dreamed of something like the Internet, not being quite sure what it actually would be. The Internet is a gift from above, I tell you, nothing has ever been as good for human connection as the Internet. Reaching minds that would never ever meet without it. It is magical.

I am a sponge for human experience. I do not want to stop where life ends. I am fascinated by ghosts, what happens to us after? What rules our staying as ghosts or being reborn or sent to the spirit? Do we get to decide ourselves? I hope we do, because I can’t wait to haunt something! I have already agreed with a friend of mine who collects Barbie-dolls like me, that I can come in her house to play with her dolls as a spirit. I would seriously have to be able to at least move a doll’s arm to greet her – I hope that is possible, although I have my doubts.

Ah and there we get to the expressions of life: Barbie-dolls, human figures who represent what we are. Self-expression in all of it’s forms move me; writing, photos, art (modern art in particular), movies, writing, of course. I am a sponge for human experience.

In my life, I have been quite loyal to my spirit. I just never quite knew why I was the way I was. I’ve felt guilt for not being motivated by money or possessions. Reading Laura’s book made me realize that people who are, don’t do it despite their true motivations, but because they must somehow believe that the possessions make them happy. “If I just have a job, if I just have a house…” I too want a house, but not at the expense of my spirit, and not because I think it would give me happiness, let alone purpose. What a house would do is to offer me a place to pursuit the things that do give me purpose, it’s a tool, not the reward. Realizing this I think I was relieved from some of the guilt I’ve felt for rejecting the society’s norms and living my life for *my spirit*. In fact, I’m quite proud of it. And finally, I know… There is no other option for me than to read… And then write.

INFP
Childfree