(no subject)
For me, emotional pain is the likeliest situation in which you'll find me facing reality. And apparently the armor necessary to face what passes for sadness in my world can only be found once I drift down to the darkest place in the mental Marianas Trench in the pacific body of tears. Is it the same for many others? All? None? As I remember the sunshine, the indomitable human spirit within me (not of myself, but of the essential sentient entity) determinedly digs its claws into a nearby wall and starts the desperate climb. The anguish fades. Already it is difficult to recall the place of pain, the true mother of creativity that I so rarely indulge to the point of sharing it. Do I dare long for it again? I know I will be back. I wonder if, in my future, there lies talent, determination, or purpose. I will humbly hope so, and trust that someday my life will mean something good.
But...
If that life is to have meaning, what does that itself mean? Is it not a hope that I will improve the lives of others? If so, whose lives are worth improving? Those close to me? Those who want to be? Those I know that I love, few and far between? Surely one person is worth the effort. But what if not? Do all but the few I help have families and/or friends to care deeply for them? I'm struggling against that uneasy tendency toward utilitarianism that I have (and that verse in the bibbly that's always rang true to me - something about only taking care of your friends meaning next to nothing). I'm not good with love. The experiences I've had with it scare me, and as usual my cowardice takes over. Only a few people garner the unwavering affection of my heart, and generally it is because I recognize my lack of choice in the matter.
But...
If that life is to have meaning, what does that itself mean? Is it not a hope that I will improve the lives of others? If so, whose lives are worth improving? Those close to me? Those who want to be? Those I know that I love, few and far between? Surely one person is worth the effort. But what if not? Do all but the few I help have families and/or friends to care deeply for them? I'm struggling against that uneasy tendency toward utilitarianism that I have (and that verse in the bibbly that's always rang true to me - something about only taking care of your friends meaning next to nothing). I'm not good with love. The experiences I've had with it scare me, and as usual my cowardice takes over. Only a few people garner the unwavering affection of my heart, and generally it is because I recognize my lack of choice in the matter.