It’s been a quiet time lately.
Half may say that we have entered a time of civil unrest, while the other half may say we have entered a time of introspection.
Despite your feelings of the time we have spent figuring out life in a currently unending Covid period, it has been full of quiet moments nonetheless.
How your mind has chosen to occupy that time is truly unique due to a multitude of experiences and personality traits among much else.
I’d say I’ve learned how to judge myself in a different way. What I once thought was an uncanny ability to judge and understand myself, now seems quite misguided.
Perhaps in the years prior I confused introspection and understanding with hermitage and escapism. I’ve learned that the time spent rooting around in my head trying to figure everything out doesn’t change that I’ve been standing still.
Figuring out your mind doesn’t always propel you forward; it can be a damaging retreat from the truth.
I’m not saying you should run through every moment without cause or care, but maybe thinking each moment to death doesn’t help either. And having the wherewithal to understand each moment is only helpful if you remember to keep moving.
At the beginning of quarantine, I found myself feeling guilty for this time, as if I prophesied it because I wanted everyone else to feel the quiet I created for myself all this time.
Of course, I should note that I find this whole time completely unique for each person.
Some have found solace in redefining their lives, but many, many others have struggled and lost like never before. And for that, I must say how I cannot begin to understand the struggle, but I do hope it gets better and that life can begin to shine for those who have suffered so.
I now see the quiet time as just that, something I created as an excuse to be less motivated, creative, and frankly, less successful.
I must confess I have no real aims of this writing. There will be no real conclusion or profound understanding of the time now. It more serves as a confession of the time I spent rooting around in my head hoping that the answers would pop up.
I still hope answers will pop up and things will click - that I’ll be hit by a wave of inspiration or a strong hand will appear to guide me through life.
I don’t believe that hope will ever go away, but the lack of the appearance of it can no longer serve as the excuse for why things seem so slow.
There really is no real fast or slow, but it does feel so bad to be stuck in the same place at the end of a year – no matter how great or terrible the year ended up being.
The fact is that I like the quiet, I can create it in a quarantine or not.
Maybe this is more a confession of conscience. And maybe it’s time to be okay with interruptions of the quiet.
It seems like a big maybe but then again standing still seems so intolerable right now.
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