Words that I string together into sentences and paragraphs, either written or spoken, they are glimpses into my momentary state of confusion. Jack Kerouac spoke to this when he stated “I have nothing to offer anyone except my own confusion.”
If I string together a series of words that really mean something about me and my current state, I feel a sense of accomplishment … I have been successful. Yet, these “successes” are only important when they serve as a springboard to other more current and relevant emancipations. Otherwise, they were not successful at all.
Of course I am always and forever on the search to find myself within the words and thoughts of others. I believe that everything has been said already, there is no ground that has not already been covered. The mystics, the poets, the philosophers and the scientists have beat me to any territory I might ever arrive at. So I search there as well.
Yet I acknowledge that the deepest of human considerations, even if they be ancient, mean something new when considered in the context of this thing we have labelled modernity. And we need these considerations so urgently, they are the seeds to our collective evolution.
My search for myself is a ridiculous endeavour. The very phrase seems to suggest I am not here, my greatest untruth. Yet, there are moments when I am released from this burden, when I hear from another a truth of my own.
The speaker in the video below speaks to a truth of mine, and I needed to hear it. I really needed to hear it.
Maybe it will mean something to you as well.
This isn't what I had in mind. 