Who

If you could, should or would, please open your social media account. Any will do. Have a quick look at your friends list, scroll down, slowly, taking in all the faces and names. How many do you know, really know or, in fact, ‘think’ that you know.

The world isn’t simply black with the white appearing ever so often, it’s multiple shades of so many colours and, as I’ve read, many other colours that we might never, ever, realise. This, of course, is the same with people. Take a selection of people, from that glorious list of names. Think of them. Recall them. Smile, as you remember moments, words, within sections of time. They’ve touched your emotions, they might have even held your hand or, let you go. Overall, we probably all know many, many different individuals.

Alternatively, do we? There are people that I haven’t seen or, even, spoken with in years. There’s many that I’ve never spoken with, which of course, is a shame. I’m a friendly person, but am I?  You see, each person on your list of friends sees you in a different light. They see you as a different person.

You, yourself, the I, the I am, believes that you’re a certain person. You might believe that you’re liked, loved, missed and never forgotten. You could appreciate the energies that you expel and bring into your world. You’re magnificent, you’re lost, you’re heartbroken, your emotions finally finding the stability you desired for the longest of time. You are, just as you are. The moment captured, immortalised, held within your consciousness. Hopefully, you know who you are.

Your ego, amongst many other facets, believes that you are the x and y of the world. Each friend, however, within your list, believes that you are something else. Each person we know, or have known, has an impression of ‘us’, within them. To one person, we’re the joker, the smiler, the miserable heartbreaker, the complainer, the yo-yoing person, the idiot, the cheater, the looser, the mischief maker and more. Those impressions, albeit often incorrect, are held like a polaroid picture taken years previous.

Once again, it matters not if you’ve achieved, expanded your knowledge, healed, or regretted and come to terms with previous malicious actions. It’s not recalled that you’ve adapted, succeeded or, even, become a brand-new person via adversity, trauma, pain and near life ending situations. You are, in essence, many hundred plus individuals within one body.

Although the histories of life proclaim that we’re all connected, all a central consciousness of abundance, we, instead, rely upon the simple, easy, miss-informed logical sense that a person is whom you think they are. Your Mother, your Sister, your partner and your neighbour, all see you as a different individual, despite actually being one solo person. Someone can form an opinion about you and, if they never ask, will keep that opinion despite it being completely, unequally, untrue.

How, upon any singular day, can someone, anyone, truly comprehend the complexity of any individual? We view a person as a book, the cover of colour and shallow substance, with the synopsis being all we need to define and decide upon our evermore imagined impression. No matter the effort, the delusion we decide to present to the world’s individuals, we will always be seen as someone else, other than who we really are. It makes a mockery of any attempt to seem nice, polite, or understanding, as there’s always the possibility of being miss-understood and fractioned into many, many alternative labels.

At this point, you might be thinking, “Well, yes, that’s pretty obvious!”  You’d be correct. However, we seldom think such thoughts. We’re sometimes occupied, attempting to be something that we’re not. We’re thinking, feeling, hurting, healing entities wrapped within a suit of meat, water and space. The outside is, frankly, a limited view of the universe with the inside, that glorious ball of energy called a soul/consciousness, being everything. Sure, it’s lovely to have the car, the house, the clothes and the importance of having a hundred people love us to bits, but the real conclusion, the actual truth, would be that hardly anyone thinks of us and if they do, their thoughts and impressions are more than likely incorrect depending on time. Alternatively, they could see you for exactly what you are.

The snapshots we take, the moments we make, when imagining another, are incredibly limited. A life can be static one week and then, the next, every single part of that life could change, forming a brand-new person. The safest path within the world is staying the same. The same day, the same routine, the same people, the same kisses and, the same harsh memories grinding us to dust. Slowly. That, as we know, is also incredibly boring. Personally, the only opinion that matters, when it concerns who ‘you’ are, is your own. You can change, you can grow, you can learn, and you can become something… more, than you are. I believe in all of you, in everyone. However, I also appreciate that my belief means little to the many and something, to the few. Realistically, we’re hardly thought of at all and even then, it’ll be the same picture formed in time.

Upon a day, maybe ‘never’ ask another ‘who’ you are, as they probably won’t know. If you, as an individual, cannot answer the question of ‘who’ you are, then heaven help you, if you consider the impressions and opinions of another. After all, the only person that really, truly, knows you, is you, and even then, many hardly ever even consider the very question of, “Who am I?”

Glass

Upon a day, be it planned or not, each of us is born into the world kicking, screaming, crying or in silence. We learn, we adapt, we adopt the way of things and grow forward whilst spending so much time looking back. We become something, the other, what we are, and can even envision what we’ll be. We follow the trends, to be liked, to be seen, even though we will always be individuals. We are often followers, that wish to be followed.

Then, upon another day, we start to rise within the world. We form pedestals to stand upon but in this case, I’d like to suggest that we form glass platforms.  Upon these platforms of formed glass, we stand tall. We look across the world, our world, like bastions of pure invincibility and grandeur. We know all, we supposedly see all, proud and stoic. We are, amongst many offered names, the wide-eyed, mostly happy, beings of faith, hope, love and most certainly, ego.

Another platform forms, be it a new job, a new partner, a new set of adventures and more. Whatever our egos decide to place value around, we can stand upon. Fierce, fire filled eyes, the very energy within slashing out into the void without a care in the world. We are, supposedly, everything.

Upon another day, something happens. The new relationship fails, two egos clashing, unable to find a balance and the abundance faulters, fails, and you’re cast aside. You fall. For the very first time, you fall so very, very hard. The glass platform beneath your feet, the sturdy construction formed from your egoic thoughts, feelings and soul enaction, cracks and splits. You fall. You fail. You land upon the platform directly below.

You clamber, you grasp, you grab at any platform that you can find. Friends, family, social media, as the moments within your mind threaten to break the very body that holds you so close within. You, eventually, find the platform that you desire, a place that feeds you, the ego energised once again. Be it another individual, another lover, your pedestal of glass confirmed, cemented, and anodised into your life. You save your ego, your emotions and, thankfully, can ignore the thoughts that chip away at your stability. You decide within, that you’d rather not face any of the consequences, actions or circumstance.

You’re stable, again. The cracks beneath your feet, ignored. The trembling within your heart, pushed aside. The memories held within the heart’s mind, ignored, despite the movies and plays repeating over and over again. So much to say, so much left unsaid. It’s all okay, it’s all perfectly fine, as you realise that if you smile long enough, you’ll believe all the lies you tell yourself when the darkness caresses you at night.

Another day, upon another moment, your Mother, your Father, your best friend, your loved acquaintance, leaves the world. The platform that you find yourself standing upon, once again, cracks and you tumble. Finally, truthfully, you reach the bottom of your world, and no further platforms support you. Your head hits the dirt, the realism of life, as your hands bear the cuts and bruises of your mind’s actions.

You look above, you lift your head, to see further glass bastions of hope, love and truth. You would reach, you would grasp, but deep inside, you realise that none of them truly, honesty, afford you rescue from the solitude you feel so very deep inside the depths of your very person. You are, alone. You are, abandoned. You are, nothing but your very thoughts. No action, no moment, can save you when the critically formed platforms of your life descend, crack, and wither away to dust.

Darkness appears, as you close your eyes, whispering, wishing, wondering, as you wipe away the tears from your outer skin. It’s only you, just you, in the darkness. This, this place, is the most vulnerable, lonely, vacant, exploratory space you can ever imagine. It’s real. It cannot be ignored. It’s all you have. It’s all you’ve ever had and ignored. No school teaches you of these moments.

You breath in, holding the breath, exhaling ever so slowly as you grasp the happenstance of the seconds. Yesterday haunts you, tomorrow is but a thought, with ‘now’ being the very essence of your escape. Your fingers dig into the dirt, as your senses smell the air around you. This is what you are, in the dark, within the silence. You realise, suddenly, that the world outside of you is but a mirror of your imagination. The platforms supporting you, previously, were all based on false notions.

You smile, you whisper further thoughts, as you attempt to stand. You abandon your earthly body as you, instead, simply imagine your two feet standing upon the world. You imagine the wealth, the very scale, of what you’d like to accomplish, and at that moment, the remaining platforms descend towards you. Some crack. Some break. Some vanish.

Finally, you open your eyes. Around you are friends, remaining family, acquaintances, and so much valuable energy. You embrace all of it and, at the same time, you let all of it go. You let it escape the meanings that you’ve assigned. You are renewed. For a moment, your ego asks you to step forward, to balance yourself upon a new platform of your making but, instead, you smile another smile as you realise, as you finally understand after so many years, that you simply no longer require any platforms to stand upon. Especially, platforms made of glass.

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If

If... the ‘what would be’ of the world. The unknown, the chance, the proposition of possibly something else. Do you, should you or, even, could you? Take the leap, make the chance a realistic wish and then, embrace whatever will be.

If... you decided to fall in love, with all the heart felt embraces, promises and beautiful chemicals, would you be ready for months of depression, solitude and weeks of self reflection if it fails? The fifty fifty of life never believes the early promises of a person, with another hope filled leap into the abyss.

If... you or I made a promise, would either person stand by that promise, through the thin, the very thick, along the ever changing 3d world? A promise is a promise is but a promise. We shall say the words, speak it, feel it, because then it’s real. Or is it?

If... you fell upon hard times, would you reach out to me, then remember how you treated others, my heart, your own feelings and more? The karma afforded by life, might only be our own thoughts within the cold lonely nights. The creature within is selfish but, upon a day, it can learn to be more. To do more.

If... you, I, we, allowed our ego to overwhelm and take the staring role within our lives, what type of person would we be? Maybe it would be too late, the implementation of such a state complete or, maybe, completely removed from within.

If... we built a home together, shared our dreams, communicated as Kings and Queens of the state, would a foundation be built that could last the tests of our time? We might hold childlike wounds within, allowing corruption, doubt and pain to sever the connection, or become stronger before the sun rises once again.

If... we communicated, each step of the way, expanding understanding, would that be an alien concept to two intelligent beings? The dictionary has thousands of words and yet, one word to break, heal, harm or help, all exist. Hardly ever spoken, never forgotten once it’s done, then exclaimed by a wounded consciousness.

If… one person found sustenance within the forms of change, understanding and self-education, would the universe care, blink or even notice? What would one person do, if they were dedicated to constantly improving, resolving the within for an improved outside. Some people listen, some people act but by then, by that point, the moment has moved away.

If… you traversed a mountain path, found the soul you were looking for, would you realise that it was within you all of this time? We seek, we ponder amongst the world’s venues and yet, we can find peace, prosperity, love, affection and warmth from one single source. Maybe it’s too late, maybe fashion, status and pomp is all that’s worthwhile within a life.

If… only if, we stop, stand still, close our eyes and inhale with thought and exhale with emotion. To feel, to think, at the exact same time, is but the magic of all ages or, do you believe in something else? Let’s ponder, let’s resolve, let’s find a suitable middle ground and maybe, just for a second maybe, we could all simply whisper… ‘if’.

 

Partially written 06.12.2022. 
Finished, today.