My recent, yet very frequent, conversations of “direction” have bothered me so very much I have adapted to concealing my feelings and thoughts of contrast.
There.
Dinner parties, telephone wire, introductions… it’s all about “direction” in life. What are you doing? What is he doing? I am exhausted of it and offended by it for I never base a conversation or my feelings for a person by their “direction”. I want to know what makes you satisfied, I want to know what you’ve heard lately, I want to know how you feel about the places you’ve travelled, I want to know if you’ve read anything or said anything that made you realize something. I want to know if you care for others, I want to know what you dream of or long for, I want to know what you think about destiny, how you feel about nature or the destruction of it. I want to know your profound moments. I don’t want to know how much money you think you’ll be making in the future. I don’t want to know if you surround yourself with successful people. I don’t want to know what possessions you think you can attain in the future. I don’t want to know if you can “make it”. Of course you will. And I want to believe in who you are.
It’s been driving me mad. A friend of mine recently flew in from Ottawa and we conversed over a cup of tea discussing what “life” entailed for us. We both contributed our idea of “life” to be a giant playground. It was most uplifting and I felt, however fleeting, that the world is a playground, it is not something similar in idea. There are so many experiences to be had, so many things to be taken from the every day. If you just say “yes” to opportunities that unveil themselves to you, you could be frightened and fulfilled. My friend and I agreed that if a person were to do what made he or she happy and fulfilled that happiness in the every day, no one would feel inadequate or feel the need to revise and edit ones self.
I am frankly exhausted and jaded of convincing significant people in my life that I am sound in direction. No one knows what their direction is. It just happens. It’s like telling someone that on June 23rd of 2009 you’re going to fall in love. You can’t say something like that. You can’t tell someone the details of your future either, a future that is not theirs but only ever yours.
Through these mixed emotions and struggles and tears of facing the arrogance in the question of my direction or the ones that I love I can only ever really turn to three people at the present moment. The very thought of these three individuals makes me weep for my very gratitude for their constant presence in my life. These three individuals never ask me what material things I think I can attain in the future, how much money I think I will make, or any other artificial, meaningless persuit. They believe in me. They don’t ask questions like that. It doesn’t mean anything to them. I’d like to talk about one of them. I’d like to talk to her now as if she were here.
Sarah,
I have your sweater here. I was cleaning my room, packing and unpacking and I chose to wear it. I apologize. It’s a really comfy sweater and it smells like you. Creepy? Probably but I chose to do this anyhow. I’ll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow. I was thinking how that corner of this room needs attention. Postcards, picture frames, picture cut-outs and I thought of how you won’t be here next year to sit in that little corner with me. How you won’t be here to understand my thoughts or my doubts. I wondered today how I’m going to be here without you. It’s not a teenage-like phase; “who am I going vent to?” It’s a soul thing. I see the ocean and I think of you, the frosted windows of coffee shops, intricate patterns, newspaper print, the color yellow, the smell of rain, and muggy sunlight… I think of my dear friend. So you see, it’s a soul thing. I had a very brief conversation with someone this morning. For identity purposes, I’ll persist with the confidentiality. I’m sure you can guess who. But the direction of someone dear to me was in question. And I know this was all said unintentionally but it hurt me so. Since when were we defined by the unknown or that which we cannot honestly confess to know? Do you remember that one dinner party? I know you know the one I’m talking of. Most of the questions we were asked and judged by were questions that we can only pretend to know the answers to. We know our passions, we know what makes us happy, we know what we are capable of, yet it’s not sufficient. I want to know where you’re going to be in ten years. Ha. I know that you are my best friend, among three, because you don’t ask me what I’m capable of. You just know. This is my inspiration in writing. Those that truly love you and know you, are not preoccupied by challenges you might face. They are just there to believe in you and have faith in you. I want to thank you for this. You ask me questions. But they never question my integrity as a person or simply who I am. You accept, accept, accept. And you love, love, love. You know something the old sometimes don’t understand. Something that makes you wise, literally, beyond your years. Beyond our years. You know that “…without people in your life to love and share splendors and doubts of this place, you are nothing.”
A professor once said this to me. And I know you understand it. And I know you understand it for soulful reasons not the lame logic of contacts for prosperity reasons. I don’t really know where this is going. But thank you for loving me enough not to question who I am or who I can be but believing in me and who I can be. Your love gives me the courage to venture out into the open without regard of judgement. You give me the courage to live (the way I want to) and I want to thank you for your faith. You don’t demand your faith in me to be proven by my success as a person. You don’t make a mockery of my life and prove your faith like science. Thank you for your faith and for something beautiful.
I guess that would be all. I have yet to sort the attic. I’ve started collecting things for my own home in a short few years. It doesn’t scare me like it used to. I’ll have to show you the wine glasses my mom gave me. I think they’re quite charming. See you tonight at Adriane’s house.
Love,
Cassandra
”Faith is the sense of life, that sense by virtue of which man does not destroy himself, but continues to live on. It is the force whereby we live” – Leo Tolstoy
*sits back, after taking a nice long sip of cassandra earl-blog tea*
ahh, it has been a while since i had any of that. Still just as satisfying as ever, and this time a little bit more time-efficient, not a extra-long-steep-session. I’ve been kind of confused as of late on the account that two of your latest entries both disappeared from my ‘live feeds’ business…and this one didn’t appear till it was four days old. I was actually trying to watch ‘the happening’ while writing my novel when i came across this, its interesting because i was very distracted by the movie so much so that i couldn’t get any writing done, but i read your entry without even looking up once…which was also kind of weird on the account that i have no idea who Sarah is, and half of the blog was aimed at her. Oh well, whatever. It was still refreshing, thanks. I’m sure that I’m guilty of probably asking you these dreaded questions before, so sorry about that ha ha ha, I’d say i am genuinely interested in what people want to do because I’m always unsure of how things are going to end up for me so i like hearing the possible other plans other people have. Hmm, that sentence was a lot different then i initially meant to word it, but i’m sure you get where i was going with it.
Merry Christmas!
I want to say one thing… although I don’t know you very well, I like you just the way that you are; and the way that you were yesterday and today and tomorrow. Why? Because you are you. It’s not about who, what, where, when or why… it’s just because.
I’m sending you a smile… just because.
Happy New Year, Cassandra.
Joni