XXXIV

Age of Autonomy.

When you’re young and you make an outlandish decision, its funny how people can often assume you’re not acting autonomously. Because the youth are so easily swayed by the opinion of others. Because young minds are not yet so developed as to make such decisions with complete independence. I got married at 20, and despite every effort to prove otherwise, I know that amongst my family, distant friends, loose relations, there is an undergirding notion that it was because my friends were doing it (they weren’t) or because my church encourages it (it doesn’t), or because someone once told me it was a good idea (they never have).

Autonomy;    acting independently or having the freedom to do so; derived from the Greek word meaning ‘to have self government’; in Kantian philosophy meaning to act in accordance with moral duty rather than ones desires.

I have autonomy. At the age of 20 I do. I'm self governed – I live out of home, I make my own decision, I earn my own money, I believe my own beliefs. So why when I choose to get married – or had I chosen something else for that matter: to cut off all my hair in support of a charity, to become vegan in a plight against animal cruelty, to move to Tibet and live with the monks for a season, to become a missionary, to quit my studies and become a full time writer (oh, god forbid), to get pregnant on purpose – do I suddenly get misaligned with puberty-blues-ing teenagers who are only just learning to decide whether or not to take extension English in high school, or whether they want to try soccer instead of netball.

Ageism is a funny thing. The old have misconstrued ideas about the young, and it definitely happens vice versa. “Why cant we all just get along?”

Because we care. My elderly neighbour cares that my life is fragile, and one life-altering decision could leave me miserable or content for the rest of my life, and there’s a weight in the balance between those two possibilities. He cares that he made bad decisions in his life and regardless of the (lack of) proximity of my life to his, he cares enough to speak up in caution, lest he should save me making the one decision I would always look back on with regret. My parents care about my happiness. They care if I make the right decisions because – selfishly – they’ll have to be there when the fallout comes.  But – less selfishly – they only want the best for my life. Maybe if we all cared a little less the world would be a more peaceful place and people could get on with their shit and not worry about anyone else’s.

Oh wait… that would suck. Right. Well, bring on the caring then.

Autonomy is overrated. Hear that thirteen-year-old princess? It is. Make your parents proud, do well in school, be happy with your friends, do normal things, don’t go looking for trouble, live life to the full in a way that brings joy and hope and peace, not destruction and anxiety, and sobbing and moaning. Be happy. You are the master of your own happiness – that is the one autonomy we are all granted in this lifetime that no one can remove from our jurisdiction. That is ours. steward it well.  

XXXIII

When you’re trying to create something, weeks can fit into minutes and minutes into days, weeks and months. Time is of no consequence when you’re traversing the fields of your mind, trying, hoping, striving, thinking, praying for something to spark and catch and light and ignite. Inspiration is fleeting and the only way to find it is to abandon all notions of space and time and just be. Just exist. Just take in what’s around you without the constraints of organised life. But this is hard. When you’re paying rent this is hard. When you’re fighting for justice, or keeping another person sane or cooking meals again and again and again this is hard. It’s hard but it is worth it. Creating is worth it. What you create, the product, the end result, the light at the end of the tunnel – that’s worth it. Because creation says something about our world that you’re working, and paying rent, and cooking food, and taking care of others, and living the mundane could never say. It says something fundamental, and formative and important and something that needs to be heard. Whatever it is, whatever you create, if you created it, it is worth something. Even if no one will put a dollar sign in front of a number for it, it’s worth something. Because you are worth something. And that’s important too.

XXXII

Scott Schuman's black and white candids part II.

XXXI

LOVING the black and white candid's Scott Schuman (The Sartorialist) is doing at the moment.

XXX

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.

- Arundhati Roy

XXIX

Dear self - live the dream.

Hey, guess what, s***'s happening.

Hey, guess what, this is real life. Sometimes you don’t really consciously properly discerningly live in it. But this is it, and you’re a part of it.

It’s the real world now, where you have to make decisions, and have direction and vision, and know where you’re going, at least for the most part. You’re gonna make money and save money and spend money and save again and try to get ahead in the money game.

Hint: no one ever gets ahead in the money game.

Welcome to the real world, where sure, bad things happen. But when good things happen, they’re filled with enough… well, goodness… to last you all the way through the bad. Hopefully. That’s the dream.

And you’ve got the dream. You’re living in it! Don’t think just because every now and then you need to make some hard decisions and overcome some things, and maybe every now and then someone rubs you up the wrong way, or vice versa – don’t think that means your not living the dream. Because you are. And you’ll do well not to forget it.

This is called life. You’re a traveller passing through, and when you’re travelling its about living life to the full in every moment. So go on. Do that. And see what come out of it.

Live that dream. Even if you don’t know what it is quite yet… live it until you realise what you’re living.

XXVIII

Have you ever lost someone? Have you ever lost someone that you loved. How did you lose them, and did they stay lost or did the losing fix itself. Or did you fix it. Or did they.

Have you ever lost someone in more ways than one – physically, emotionally, mentally… they were lost. Does the loss compound across the different levels of consciousness? Or is it just the one thing. Loss. Does anybody know.

I lost someone once. I lost someone I loved. And I didn’t lose him to another woman, or to a new set of ideas, or to a dream or a lifestyle, or another place. It wasnt mentally or emotionally.

I lost him in the truest sense of the word. I lost him and there was nothing I could do about it. I lost him without the slightest trace of warning. Oh, the universe doesn’t often warn the soon-harbourerers of sorrow.

I lost him in the blink of an eye.

I lost my love. He was taken from me. And every day I miss him.

I lost my love.

And the one who took him, was you.

(Woman writing a letter to the drunk driver that killed her love)