I unlocked the door and banged it shut behind me. I am not angry; I just like to bang the door and tell myself that I have come home – or that I am leaving it. I do it both ways – coming and going.
I threw my shoes and bag as usual. Do I sound really aggressive? I do not throw these things in anger; I just like to throw things around. It makes me feel – well – me!
I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water. Not angry! I just like to splash water around. Very playful!
I looked up in the mirror and saw my face soaked in water. The water was dripping onto my shirt and as usual, I was about to hastily turn and look for a towel but at that precise moment, something strange happened inside my brain. I was stuck looking at my face. I could not believe that the person who was looking back at me was me. For the first time in my life, I was able to recognize myself. The longer I looked at myself, the stronger the recognition. I stood there touching my face, in complete awareness of myself but also in disbelief of this newly found knowledge of knowing the me.
Am I getting enlightened or something? I walked out of the bathroom and sat on the chair trying to revert back to the older me who had an iron standpoint of rejecting the knowledge of knowing me, the older me who had depersonalized a long time ago. I was unable to do so. I knew that I knew and no matter how hard I tried to unknow it, I could not.
I thought to myself that this newly found phenomenon of recognizing myself cannot really be new. It was not a miracle. Or something that had just born out of me looking in the mirror. There was much more to it. I knew that things have been shifting inside me this whole year. There was evidence of strange changes and stranger ones.
- I would find myself in the middle of a chaotic event and would get hurt and be in a lot of pain but would be able to heal faster than ever before. There were times when I could feel my heart pulling itself together and going back to its original shape. The harder I fell the faster I got back on my feet.
- I had always either preferred the day or the night. I was able to love both the darkness and the light. The first rays of the sun would fill me up with the gratitude of being alive and the night would help me lose myself and appreciate the calmness that the darkness brought with it.
- The music that I had listened to for years which had either been a reminder of a loss or just plainly for the sake of listening shifted to being so powerful to send me in a trance in no time. I can just put my headphones, shut my eyes and my head would get light and I would start to travel deeper and deeper within myself. When I would open my eyes, it always felt like I have been on a journey to somewhere beautiful.
- Smiling has become so easy and such an integral part of my life. A smile on my face reflected the glow in my heart. A glow of calmness and peace. The more I smiled, the more my heart glowed.
- The outbursts of passion for life at random times like when I am waiting for my coffee to get ready or when I am chopping onions has constantly amused me in the last quarter of the year.
Having the knowledge that I am free and that I can choose to stop doing whatever I am doing has made the decisions that I take every day so meaningful.
Having the knowledge that everything fails in the face of death and that death is lurking around the corner has made existence so bearable.
All I know is that I had finally found myself this year after being lost for so many decades. I had given up on the search to find who I was or perhaps what I was. I allowed myself to just flow like the river, not ask questions, and just get lost rather than focusing on ‘finding myself’. The more I thought I was getting lost, the more I was coming closer to recognizing that face in the mirror.
I am at peace and my heart is full. I am not saying that I don’t get angry, sad, upset, lonely or feel other emotions, I do. I am just much more aware. I am at peace.
I have argued with myself whether my acceptance of indifference has made me indifferent or a nihilist but I would be lying if I would say that I know someone like myself who comes face to face with such a history on a regular basis and yet is able to revolt with passion. I don’t. I just know the only person – me. Some days my passion and revolt scare me too. But, I prefer being this way. Simple. Indifferent yet revolting.
Being me, I would end by saying that I am grateful to have come across Albert Camus but I would be lying. If I was not looking for a philosophy to cement myself in, Albert Camus would have just been another casual affair. So, no, it is not him, it is me. It was my readiness to learn and implement, it was my desire and hunger for something to ground me. It was me all along.