Hello my old, friendly room of thoughts.
Hope you don't mind me dropping in - it will probably be another short visit, much like last time. I was just walking past and the door was ajar, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the many dusty mirrors lining the walls, and was struck by the versions of myself I saw.
And of course now I've spent a good hour sifting through all the old clippings, and wondering what happened to the young man who poured out so many passionate, urgent words. Feeling occasional embarrassment at his naïve or foolish responses as he encountered some of life's great conundrums. But on the whole, he was doing pretty well.
And I feel I miss him a little bit. He was a lot braver than me. Less wise, true. But braver.
See, the thing is, I think he's still here with me … I just reckon he lives on the edges of my life these days. He's had to make way for other versions at the steering wheel. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have something to say. I just can't always hear him over the traffic.
I'm sitting in an apartment overlooking the beach at Albany in WA: blue water and skies and a chilly breeze. And my mind just has this feeling that it had to come back into this room for a bit. There's this overwhelming compulsion to dump the detritus gathered from the past seven years on the table and sift through the material and digest it.
Like a boa constrictor after a lucky encounter with a whole family of capybaras, I feel I've gorged myself on life's adventures, but am left with the uncomfortable sense that I've been carrying them with me without digestion. And I think I need that digestion to find peace - well, as much peace as this mind I've got will ever allow.
So how on earth do I begin to organise the digestion of such a vast array of experiences?
I guess what I'm looking for from this are the lessons from those experiences. And how those lessons guide and shape my values. And on a deeper level, I'm yearning to rediscover my creativity. I still carry it with me, a little reactive force in times of stress. But I'd like to give it more exercise and some healthier contexts to inhabit.
So, better grab the leash and get out the door.
