Inside-out

As farr as I can remember, It has always seemed to me that what is happening inside me is more real than the reality enveloping me from the outside. The sofa I lie on, the slow and persistent ticking of the clock, the voices carried to me from downstairs... my body set into this picture... all that so preposterous and far away in comparison to the stories that take place beneath my skin.

I have experienced this feeling many times, but I don’t think I was ever able to fully understand it because all we are taught as soon as we come to this world full of shapes and definitions, is to believe and live what can be seen.

I can see my body but I cannot see myself.    

It may seem, perhaps, strange but the stories flowing through my veins are the blood which keeps my heart beating. The world inside me, consumes me. It is more solid and true than any other words spoken outloud... more than anything or anybody around me.

Stories have mind of their own.

We are responsible for our imagination.

***

I stumbled upon this while cleaning up dusted shelves of my laptop's hidden territories that were drowning in forgotten and mostly unimportant files. The curious thing is that it took me over fifteen maybe twenty minutes of intensive Google search till I was willing to accept that the author is me.

I do not have a recollection of writing it. Every time a situation as this one comes around, an unpleasant feeling wraps its sticky fingers around my mind. I know we are not capable of remembering every single little moment of our existence... earlier or later most of our memories slide into sub-consciousness, to dwell there quietly until a random trigger disturbs their peace and they flash on the surface as an inexplicable déjà vu or a very distant memory. However, how is it possible that some things we are able to forget completely... forget so thoroughly we would argue with the rest of the world we have never ever done or said such a thing?

You may think it is not so rare to forget about few lines scribbled couple years ago (I looked it up. The entry was created in December 2009, during Christmas period. I named it after a book that, if I am not mistaken, I might have gotten as a present around that time. I don’t know why I named it after it because those two things have not much in common... maybe something in that book was a trigger that provoked me to write...) ... but I have a peculiar relationship with written products of my imagination. Usually, I remember exactly why I wrote it, how I felt, what room I was in, what was the weather that day, whether I was hungry or not... So I think I have a right to freak out a bit.

What if I forgot other more important things? Maybe this is the reason why it should not matter who we were but who we are just now.

All I can do is trust myself...

Because as I (supposedly) wrote... What is inside me is more real than anything or anybody around me.

Stories have mind of their own.

We are responsible for our imagination.

;)

The Disciples of Disciplne

It is half past four in the morning.

Considering the last ten days in Edinburgh and a journey that greedily stripped me from my feeble energy supplies, I should be fast asleep for at least fifteen hours. Apparently, that is not happening. First night in France (by many considered a dreamland) and I sit on my bed deprived of sleep, abandoned by fatigue. It seems to me, I am not getting any dreams tonight.

To be truthful, I am not that surprised I find it quite challenging to fall asleep. The analysis, to which I subjected my life over the holiday period, offered me a conclusion which is not entirely according to my taste (mainly because it is absolutely necessary and inevitable). Tonight, the crusade is falling from the pedestal down to my feet swirling the dust just to let it settle on its distinct outlines.

I am giving up.

I am here to surrender.

There is no more I can do to hold up my resistance.

The indispensability of discipline has brought me to senses... eventually.

Forgive me the theatricality with which I write about the simplest moments of my life but I cannot resist no matter how much I try. It sounds better. Therefore, even a moment you would like to erase...  delete from your mind because till it is there your brain is beeping: Memory full, allowing nothing else to be downloaded from that sea of information floating around you, loses its dark higher powers. Giving to these moments a form, a style I dare to like, turns them into easy downsized version of their actual gravity and I can listen to it... clink on ‘Next’ button and continue living.

After three paragraphs about nothing I could actually get to the point. But in order to finish an article that provokes the effect that I had in mind in timely manner requires discipline. I might be eloquent speaker, cunning opponent, astute girl who constantly reaches for perfection whenever possible while prancing hand in hand with capricious luck... so much, that once in a while you might even get an impression that I am smart. But the one thing I never had (and still not have) is Discipline. Not a tiniest drop of it in my blood!

The truth is I have been withholding myself from success as far as I can remember, subconsciously but nevertheless voluntarily. All the exams I underwent, all those tests I passed, the projects I planned, ravishing little battles I won were all results of procrastination, not discipline. I have never properly studied when it was necessary or worked on a project as long as needed, or wrote when I should have... I could have written so many stories by now if only I had the discipline to do what I wanted!!! And still I always reached good and time to time even excellent results... results of single night’s effort. Now, you might think I am over acting and that I should be grateful for that. I suppose I should be thankful I was born with certain amount of undefined talent which is still not entirely clear to me. However, how can I be satisfied with myself if I the two chips I am left with to gable my way to happiness are suspicious talent and moody luck. That is certainly not a way to win a poker game. Only imagine! What would I actually be capable off if I gave it a try?

Perhaps ONE try is all it takes to fall into grasp of long forgotten religion... one taste of satisfaction, one little taste of real game... Maybe that’s all it takes to become a disciple of discipline.

Therefore I decided to do some research on the topic. As I was googling my way through the tangle of ideas people have expressed about discipline, the message that came across was quite evident. There is no way around it... well there is NO WAY without it. Not a way of life without limits to happiness I decided to have and which many people label impossible just because it requires to wonder beyond limits.

Certain German author or a playwright Carl Zuckermeyer wrote: ‘Half of life is luck, the other half is discipline- and that’s the important half, for without discipline you wouldn’t know what to do with luck.’ It contains more truth that I would ever dare to admit. I do not know what to do with my luck... but to let it pass by me without... well without taming it with discipline and creating something more than a one night’s shadow of rarely exercised talents.

From a different basket, H. Ross Perot, an American businessman said also something worth noting (mainly because it is as well an inevitable inconvenient truth). He claimed: ‘Something in human nature causes us to start slacking off at our moment of greatest accomplishment. As you become successful, you will need a great deal of self-discipline not to lose your sense of balance, humility and commitment.’

Slacking off at our moment of greatest accomplishment?

A phrase that should not sound so familiar and yet it does.

Loosing Balance?

One of the easiest things to do...

Loosing humility?

Tempting...

Disappearance of humility is another very popular phenomenon that accompanies Mr. Success wherever he decides to wonder. However, with this particular trap I never experienced that much trouble. Those who know me would laugh at the previous sentence. I have to admit, humility is the last quality you would connect with my name and behaviour. I believe I am good, but I am also aware that I am not the only one. It is simple; I suffer the painful blows of learning process. The more I learn, the more I realize that technically I do not know anything.

So, you might hear me say my well known: ‘I am soooo goooooood.... ‘

I say it often, and I say it with a hint of arrogant pleasure... nonetheless it is my moment of humility rather then arrogance. I have seen, read, met and experienced things and people and places far more imposant. On the other hand, the greatness around you does not take away the importance of your own achievements no matter how insignificant they may seem at the time. Therefore... yes! Be humble, but do not over do it!

  Loss of Commitment?

Truth...

It easy to get what you want... it is much more difficult and perplexing to maintain it.

Every time I think about this I flirt with an idea of leaving everything behind, finding a little house on a lake shore and live my live in peace... sitting on a bench under a cherry tree, looking at the world with simplicity it deserves.

As soon as I picture the image in my head... as soon as I draw the last strokes, I know I will never do it. Not this way. Because as another voice once said.. There are no short cuts to any place worth going.

It is time for me to learn some discipline.

I got no more excuse up my sleeves. 

Time to shake things up ;)