Ontological Drama. So.Very.Rambling. OR ‘Meditations’

As I grew up, I thought I would be someone special. But then, I had imaginary friends too. There were times I was kind of obsessed with this thought, and there were times I was not. But it was right there. Looking back, I wonder who or what planted that idea to my mind. Was that me being just a little girl? Let’s face it, I never outgrew being a little girl. Just because I know more words and have less imagination and hope does not mean I am an adult. ‘Yet’ or ‘ever’, I wouldn’t know. Maybe it’s the books. Maybe it’s the songs. It is  hard to tell who to blame where we are surrounded by so many things that feeds up so much self-awareness. the ‘I’. No one really tells us why we matter so much. And yet, there comes a day it just feels so juvenile to deny that most people do matter. The crafts, and arts and all the crazy that Adam’s sons and Eve’s daughters do makes easier for all of us make sense of our surroundings. We continuously mark our existence. We make sounds, we make appearance, we make coffee, we smell. We write. We make ourselves fall in love with things and people. We play. We replay. We fight. We wage, well, jobs, beauties and wars. Still we cannot help fading away from this place. Why we all are somehow implicitly alerted by the question if we are special, or how special we are?      What makes us special. The fact that we exist? How come we can be so weak and so strong, so rightful and yet so wrong-doing at the same time while pumping blood to our hearts and brains. I am startled by our capacity to commit so many things, with our minds and bodies, so many…

I am not pushing to deny that existence should give us some sort of ego and it is natural. Natural. Given, not achieved. If you think about it, we can only imagine non-existence, we are like fishes in the existence ocean. I might still be a little girl, but my experience has taught me that there is no killing the ‘I’, there is compromising, training and collaborating with the ‘I’ from time to time. Time. Hell yeah! ‘We’ need time to figure all these out and it is scarce. I guess when we say we live we actually mean that we have got time. Which is cool. Very cool. 

So…What do we with that time. What exactly ‘is’ ‘worth’ ‘doing’? Ontological drama. Cheesy but necessary. 

I had so many ontological drama in the past, and I seriously doubt that this is the last one. I was pulled back to some humane light all the time, alhamdulillah, that I am not ‘that’ scared to go down that road anymore. Every time is like a diamond that gives little cut to your skin. And, hey, we will all dies someday who needs a perfect skin in the coffin. 

I had so many ontological drama in the past, and I seriously doubt that this is the last one. This time I ask why we matter so much because I feel so self-absorbed and silent while there are so many things going on in the world around me. And by many things, I mean killings, attacks and rapes, abuses, insults, hunger, fatigues, lies and bloody money. And ‘I’ have no easy clearance. Just because ‘I’ am not involved does not mean…It does not mean anything for Allah’s sake.

If existence means anything- yeah I do believe it means a lot, even when I am in a dark place like this- I think it means responsibility the most. I have come into terms that responsibility might necessitate remaining quiet. It is like being covered in a filthy mud, and if you open your mouth and you will become a part of that filth. Yet, silence does not suffice all the time. The metaphor of ‘not getting dirty’ gives away the obsession of perfection for the ‘I’. ‘I’ must be politically(…) correct. This is just a non-sensicle sentence if you would take Aristo’s word. I never get that guy but still, he ‘matters’, right? 

So, here here, why have I been rambling so much. I am in search for the next pulling back from my ontological drama. More than that, I am search for finding a way to the part of ‘healing team’. I suppose what gave me such a heart-break and a mental wreck was realising that the healing team is not  uniform, and the members are so diverse, they might not like each other and there is a great chance that they will get on each other’s way, a lot. 

It.is.just.I.dont.wanna.die.like.this.while.I.feel.so.irresponsible.and.so.useless.

As lame as it seems to me right now, writing and whining like a teenager did made me feel better. so very lame and so very little useful.

Coming out like this is my way of praying for a change. But I am not done with this piece of writing/rambling. And hopefully I am not done with praying in different ways. Next time I hope it will be some non-filthy useful action, but if I had a faith in that sort of action nowadays, would I really be writing. OK. Finito. I am bored by myself. It is -inshallah- to be continued. Meassalama.