If you know much about me, you are aware that I am not one to show a great deal of emotion. Honestly, I have come to believe that I have some psychological barrier that prevents me from letting my worries out. If there is any relief from my pain that I so easily bury, and now work so hard to uncover, it comes through writing, so I thank you for reading. I truly believe that I express myself through words on paper better than any other facet of expression, but I am not sure why. When I was younger I used to write songs and poems to deal with what was going on in my head (I am not sure that this was the case because of my problems or my short-lived obsession with Eminem, but oh well). As I have gotten older, more cultured, and better read, I have been all but convinced that writing is the most powerful thing on earth. Ideas have alway captivated me and my mind is usually working through ideas and such at a million miles per hour. I think this is partly why I can’t let a lot of my emotions out: my brain is just too busy. I know that is not healthy, but its the truth.
Nevertheless, almost my entire life I have felt separated from other people. When I was younger, I always felt as if my interests and responsibilities were a step above everyone else around me. I don’t mean that in a “better-than-you” way, just in the since that I cared about different things and was motivated by deeper ideas. I do not mean it in the sense that other people were below me, because God knows I got the short end for wanting to grow up too fast while others lived as if they were perfect for that specific moment. I will not say I felt alienated – I had plenty of friends – but I definitely felt as if I was on a different radio frequency.
Now if you know me, you know that I am a big dreamer. Not only in a goal-oriented sense, but also in a fantasy sense. I can come up with some pretty wild stuff. I think that is where some of my feelings of disconnect come from, but I cannot be sure. It is almost as if my entire life I have been searching for something more, something greater than myself, and most importantly, something that would bridge that disconnect I felt and give me purpose. I whole-heartily believe that this is the reason I am so interested in Christianity and the theology in general. I guess in some odd way I have, and still do, hold on to the hope that these truths about God and humanity will in some way allow me to be grounded like everyone else. Granted, I have come to the conclusion that I will probably never understand these perfect truths, but it is simply my love for hope that pushes me forward.
With all this in mind, my life has constantly been filled with moments – some short, other spanning months – where I was somewhere else in my mind searching for these ideas and truths while occasionally poking my head back into reality only to find the motivation to leave again. It is kind of like a bee keeper who occasionally dips his finger in the jar of honey to taste its sweetness only to remind himself why he keeps going to the hives to get stung.
It is the concrete reality of this life that allows me to think so abstractly. It is the hope of changing the present that pushes me to be absent.
If my thoughts cannot connect with you, hopefully Soren Kierkegaard‘s will suffice. This is the epitome of how I feel at times. . .
Often, as I stood here on a quite evening, the sea intoning its song with deep but calm solemnity, my eye-catching not a single sail on the vast surface, and only the sea framed the sky and the sky the sea, while on the other hand the busy hum of life grew silent and the birds sang their vespers, then the few dear departed ones rose from the graves before me, or rather, it seemed as thought they were not dead. I felt so much at ease in their midst, I rested in their embrace, and I felt as though I were outside my body and floated about with them in a higher ether–until the seagull’s harsh screech reminded me that I stood alone and it all vanished before my eyes, and with a heavy heart I turned back to mingle with the world’s throng–yet without forgetting such blessed moments. — I have often stood there and pondered my past life and the different surroundings that have exerted power over me. And before my contemplative gaze, vanished the pettiness that so often causes offence in life, the many misunderstandings that so often separate persons of different temperament, who, if the understood one another properly, would be tied together with indissoluble bonds. When the whole, seen thus in perspective, presented only the larger, bolder outlines and I didn’t lose myself in detail as one so often does, but saw the whole in its totality, I gained the strength to grasp things differently, to admit how often I myself had made mistakes, and to forgive the mistakes of others. –As I stood there, without depression or despondency making me see myself as an enclitic of those whom I am usually surrounded, or without pride making me the constitutive principle in a small circle — as I stood there alone and forsaken and the power of the sea and the battle of the elements reminded me of my nothingness. . .He has found what that great philosopher desired but did not find: that Archimedean point from which he could lift the whole world, that point which is precisely for that reason must lie outside the world, that point outside the constraints of time and space.
Soren Kierkegaard. Journals and Papers Vol. AA (pg. 9).