What is a self? What is it composed of? My thoughts? My actions? Or are they all already predetermined by my own environment? The people I interact, the physical here and now…
What about other aspects of my every day? Does the place I live define who I am? Does the amount of money/material possessions I own, are part of me or not? Am I, my being, dissociated from the physical and material?
How about food? Does the food I consume and later turn into my fat, blood, skin is me? Or is it not yet?
How about the air?
They say electronics emit some sort of waves that affect humans, and they recommend placing mobile phones away from the bed while sleeping. Are they also part of my constructed self.
They say memory is funny – it chooses certain things to retain and certain ones to eliminate. “a ‘story’ in which the event already crosses within itself the archive of the ‘real’ and the archive of ‘fiction’.” So, is my understanding of my own self fictional?
Is my own self always predetermined by the past, by what has happened, or is it in futurity and the potential to happen? So, I guess, an interesting question to ask would be what story would I like to have at the end of my physical existence? What is it that’s important to me…?
The same day last year – an induction day to university – has felt extremely different than today. I was joyous and excited to start something I have dreamt for years – an art course. I wanted to be there, I was certain that it was the best decision I have made and, finally, I am where I should be.
The same day today is clouded with confusion and uncertainty. My path has become murky, full of a morass. A Slough. I am not sure any longer if being here is the right thing to do. I don’t know if I want to say ‘goodbye’ to my Lithuanian culture, to my family. I am afraid that I am suddenly succeeding where it’s not important and missing out on what’s the most important in life – my family and my community – being in the lives of those I care about.
This overarching affect of confusion and fear and of the unknown is stemming not from the current here and now – I do love studying, art history, people are fantastic and London is a fascinating city, but the future vision is unclear. There are people who can close their eyes and just live in the ‘now’, but I crave to know where it is that I am going, what is the destination that I am aiming at reaching at. I desire to run and climb and be focused to be ALL there, not just stroll and walk in circles. I want to be certain and have peace that it is well, that it is the right thing to do.
Ieva Tarajeva: “Kol plaukai ant galvos mums gražu, o kai išslenka– šlykštu, tas pats su dantimis, nagais ir kūno skysčiais.
Kiek iškrypęs yra kūno estetizavimas?
Kas yra žmogaus esmė, kai išskaidai kūniškas asociacijas?”
I am grateful for:
– the sun kissing my body, realisation that the summer is still here,
– fresh air,
- wide spaces. The rooms in my flat with soothing cream colours and wooden pallets on the floor,
- eating ice-cream with my mom in the park. For walks with her. The undying love and acceptance she is always showering me with.
- the presence of my sister
- my friends being around
- re-reading texts from my Literature class and questioning
- time to rest. time to be. time to not do and sleep
- the future with all of the possibilities in it. the new out there, behind the corner.
People are just bags of meat with an expiration date.
A few weeks ago I read this phrase and it just struck me with its boldness and cruelty. Are we just pieces of meat that are slowly degrading/decaying..? Is one’s life just acts of sleep, food, and material provision..? Is there more than this?
Just an illusion. Some sort of existence, created by neurons that does not translate in the physical here. Yet, in my heart – something is aching. Something repetitively disrupting the flow of my thoughts and causing a sense of loss – unexplained loss.
Maybe my heart is just a mere construction of neurons as well.
This is how I could define the abruptness of dating in the metropolitan cities. There are no traces, no explanations – just an abrupt ending. It is like a fantasy. The other is erased out of everyday. Completely. No smiles, no meeting of the eyes, no looking over the shoulder – it is all lost in the maze of millions. Millions of people, cars, shops, tube stations, without an intersecting reality. Traces of individuals moving simultaneously without crossover.
Moving together in the forms of physical or digital presence and then, suddenly, none. No vibrations, no symbols … dead end silence.
But perhaps, there was something real. As my brain, like an old tape record is replaying the same imagery, just with different details. And questions of friends are echoing in my ears: “Where is the cute guy, you kissed in that bar?’
At peace. Or perhaps an overwhelming passivity of the current state/situation.
The effects of London living have etched a deep hole and resistance in me in experiencing stress or simply caring of what’s happening around. This too shall pass. Constant tiredness is a state of everyday. Yet, my body is begging me to stop – to pause and recharge – by inflicting aching in my head, thighs, fingertips, back, throat and cheeks. A never ending to-do list, walking, walking, walking, hard seating, cold and heat an sun kisses.
Cambridge is a lovely place – with lowkey gossip, caring colleagues and eager faces to see/to learn/to be.
Being back in the normal – beautiful, clean and peaceful… makes me cringe of going back. Yet, it encourages seeking for better and to not accept less, not to be satisfied by something less.
The desire to love and be loved. To be and to share, and feel and rest…and be OK.