I notice that I have been looking for myself in the protagonists of the books I choose lately. All of them single, late twenty-something women, living very busy yet lonely confusing lives- trying to figure out their career, love life, SIBLINGS!!! & their spouses but most importantly – themselves.
Does it seem strange to you that the person we are is also a mystery to ourselves? How is it that I don’t fully know who I am and what I want after twenty-nine years of being with myself?
The thing about life is that we learn about it as much as we learn about ourselves. (Lord help me- I’m starting to sound like Elizabeth Gilbert in Big Magic! Her personification of creativity as a being? It’s a very good book by the way-very enlightening.) But….
Sigh. Hands cover face as I square with certain –now consolidated, deep- truths in my life.
She was right. However ridiculous I found the notion before- it is easier to understand life, like creativity, as a being, a personality that one gets to know over time.
As life unfolds, we get to know it and little by little, get to know ourselves through the many circumstances that it unveils. Very much a give and take relationship. Life presents us with opportunity in varied forms.
But underneath- happening simultaneously as you go along making decisions, picking friends, saying words, making vows…
Underneath is a reiteration of your character. Certain elements will resound with your core. Repeatedly over your years and patterns will be discovered. These are the things that make you uniquely you.
And so I think, for now, I will accept that the introspective questions I ask are a firm part of my conversation with Life and not anybody else. The answers of which do not lie inside of the pages of a book or at the end of a conversation with any one of The Madalas.