Call me naive, but I find it hard to wrap my head around the thought that there are people who hate to be loved. I met a couple of people last night who tried their hardest to make me believe that they are against intimacy. Not the physical kind, the emotional kind. I was fascinated with how much they were trying to persuade me into believing that they were happy with not wanting emotional intimacy. And please notice that I was being particular in how I said, “happy with not wanting”, because that is different from saying, “happy with not having”. I noted how they subtly assured me that they can easily have it if they wanted it. I’m not sure if I am deducing this correctly, but all those assurances made me think that they were scared, and that they were in denial of being scared. And as they were trying to secure my acquiescence, I couldn’t help but be thankful that I am in a place right now where I can confidently admit to wanting emotional intimacy. This thought made me proud of myself because I can say that I am finally brave enough to give emotional intimacy a try.
Hiraeth = Longing
I learned a new word today. Hiraeth, according to Wikipedia, is a Welsh word that means ‘longing’. It’s a word that holds a deeper and more profound concept than ‘longing’ though. Hiraeth ultimately attempts to sum up in one word, the mixed feelings of yearning, nostalgia and wistfulness tinged with sadness over a lost entity.
I think I may have finally found the word I have been looking for to express the feeling I get whenever I think of my Dad; whenever I hear the song, “(How Much Is) That Doggie in the Window” and any Jackson 5 Christmas song; and whenever I smell the scent of Suave men’s hair cream.
My dad will always be the first person to introduce me to the concept of love. And I did not realize until recently that I never felt completely at home anywhere after he died. I recognize now that I did not only lose a father that day, I also lost a home. And like every person with no anchor to keep him/her grounded, I floated. I lived my life floating on the surface of each event. I did a lot of things – choir, theater, school organizations and church ministries. All the while unconsciously fooling people into thinking that I was completely engaged with my everyday life. I even fooled myself.
Let me be clear, I was, and still am, happy; but being happy is different from being at home. And now that I finally have enough space to consciously deal with my losses, I am finally figuring out how to make a home for myself. And this makes me happier.
On being rational
Right now, I want a rational psyche.
Before I proceed to expound on why I feel the need to justify this irrational want to be rational, let me appease those who find people who strive to be different or special to be distasteful or pretentious (or both) – It is not my aim to separate myself from the norm. In fact, I’m sure that almost everyone had the thought of wanting to be rational more than once. I’m just choosing to voice it out. I only hope to be able to represent us well.
Most of the time, I want to be rational because it makes it easy to cope with life events. When I am able to let my rational mind take over fully, I’m guessing ‘proper’ behavioral reactions can come to me instinctively. Being indifferent can become second nature, and indifference leads to lesser effects of negative implications. In a nutshell, life is simple. Maybe some people believe that simplicity is overrated, but I don’t. At least, not right now. Simplicity, for me, offers itself as a refuge. It calms me in the same way that it excites me. It is a novel thought for me to be simple. Yes, you read right. I am not simple, and in the same way as people who like complications, I will not apologize for my wanting a simple psyche.
Lunar escape
I imagine walking on the moon’s surface, my feet barely touching the ground as I make my way towards nowhere. Now, anyone who reads this will figure that I am no scientist. My thoughts are too much attuned to the rhythm of my heartbeat, and to the wonderment of tasting the atmosphere around such conundrum. As my extremities feel the air swirling around me, an orb in the middle of the blackness catches my eyes. I can almost hear the voice of mankind. I cannot help but ponder how the voice no longer ignites anxiety, and while that is seemingly a good thing, nor does it breed joy.
Red Idyll 