My Reason For Living

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I want to write books that are like tiny homes, tiny, magical worlds you can tuck yourself into like a warm bed during the colder months, and feel deliciously happy, safe, comfortable and delighted while inside of them. The true value of books lies not in their ability to astound, delight and amuse, though they certainly do all those things, and in abundance, but to comfort.

You see, life, and the world, after you reach a certain age, suddenly turns from something fun and exciting, into something scary, and, when it isn’t scary, boring. Lots of us get jobs that we dislike, just to survive and pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads. We have to get along and deal with people we do not like, for the sake of our jobs, at the grocery store, at the bank. We become aware of our mortality, the end that awaits us all, and our loneliness. We realise that our loneliness cannot be healed by anything outside of ourselves, that we are, as a species, lost and wandering, on a tiny, little rock, spinning around a great ball of fire, in deep, dark and fathomless space. We try to find love, have children, to soothe our souls and our hearts, only to find that anything, once you attain it, becomes mundane and ordinary, dissatisfying. And so we live our lives, in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction, uncomfortable and secretly yearning for something we cannot even put into words, yet know we want very badly.

And it’s not nice. The world is often not a nice place, and people are often not nice, because they’re unhappy with their own lives, and live in a society that seems almost specifically engineered to breed anxiety and discontent. No-one is actually a grown-up, you know. Beneath the professionalism, the smiles, the suits and the clothes, the faux wisdom, each and everyone of us, from the President to the elderly man on the street, is, at their heart, a child, pretending to be brave in a big, bad, scary and seemingly meaningless world.

That’s where art comes in. Art is what makes life worth living, because it helps us, briefly, to forget the horrible realities of living, of death and work and boredom, fatigue and pain, suffering. For as long as we are immersed in a book or a film, our souls are uplifted to a higher plane, where everything is beautiful, romantic, wondrous. Our lives, so ordinary, are lit up by these brief forays into other peoples’ lives, other worlds. Like children tucked into bed and told a bedtime story—and it is indeed children that we all are—we are soothed and comforted by these stories, tales of grand adventures and wonderful places, filled with interesting creatures and even more interesting people. Most of us will live quite ordinary lives, and if it were not for the power of the human imagination, reality would be quite intolerable.

That, then, is the reason for my existence, pure and simple: to eject, during my life, my bit of magic into the world, for others to enjoy and be comforted and soothed by, as so many books have soothed me. I live for books, and films, especially whimsical, animated ones. I live for the imagination, for words and stories, and characters. Should books, for some reason, be banned, and writing, too, I would honestly have very little reason for living, and would probably spend the rest of my life tucked inside my imagination, lying in bed and floating away on other worlds, like a drug addict. You see, for me, there is no greater pleasure on earth than the pleasure of reading, and dipping into imaginative and fanciful worlds.

Every little nifty bit of creativity that twirls and flits my way is a source of intense happiness, each one like biting into a tiny but extraordinarily sweet berry, the sweetness exploding across one’s tongue in a small spray of pure happiness. I live for it. My fondest memories, I know, from birth to death, will be that of sitting down somewhere and tucked inside the world within a book. As a child, books were my entire world; and as an adult, they still are, and always will be.

There is such magic and joy to be found in this world, but only if we humans choose to create it, and believe in it. And I intend to spend the rest of my life doing just that.

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8 thoughts on “My Reason For Living

  1. i got your message. thank you. i was afraid i had offended you cuz it took awhile for u to reply. i was afraid you felt criticized or something cuz i said u dont know much about your emotional needs. i got a little teary eyed when i read your message. i wont approve it for posting cuz i would like to keep our correspondence private. sometimes someone’s words just really touch me and your reply did that big time. i want to say that i feel more understanding now about u not replying to emails. i dont encourage people to write to me either – in fact i discourage them unless they are a teenager who needs help. i guess i was kind of trying to provoke u a bit to see how u might and if u might reply. your reply was very unexpected, especially coming when it did. i want u to feel accepted so i will say it is okay that it took u awhile to reply. in fact it means more this way so there is no need to apologize and i suspect u might be wanting to. do u know the line from love story that says love means never having to say you are sorry? i just thought of that now in this case- but i cant say i agree all time. i also think its very healthy to apologize when we feel bad for doing something. and it is important that we are forgiven. if u do want to apologize i already forgive you 100 percent.

    somehow u are probably the most special person in my online world all of a sudden with that reply u left me. i feel very encouraged u said what u did about universities. im very interested in knowing more about u, offering any help or guidance in life that i can with my years of painful suffering and experiences.

    i could really use an online friend these days. someone who i feel accepted by even if not understood by. i feel kind of optimistic that we could become good online friends.

    I just read your reply again. it brought tears to my eyes when u spoke of bashing yourself and treating yourself brutally. Please don’t hurt yourself in any way – enough others have done that already and will do that in the future. Right now i want to pour all the knowedge i have into your brain. People have told me that i have saved their life. It has gone to my head a bit. I think I am kind of special/unique. It doesn’t sound like I need to save your life though. It sounds like you are saving it so I admire you for that. I don’t want to write to much or you might think I am obsessed with you. I like to ask people how they feel about things and I thought of asking you how you would feel if you thought I was obsessed with you, but I don’t want to put any demands on you for a reply. I don’t want to need anything from you. I have needed too much from too many people in my life and it has caused me a lot of pain.

    So I just offer you this reply. And I offer you any emotional support you need or want. If you read my blog you will see how my mind works and what has been on it – ie my ex Priscilla. But I am feeling less pain about it these days. I did a lot of writing – as you might see, though it is ok and maybe even better if you don’t read my blog — and anyhow I have been writing a lot of the pain away. I am feeling more love and appreciation for her these days. And acceptance that she might not want to talk to me and that she probably was not even healthy for me.

    Anyhow, I am curious about this online course you mentioned. Like if it is free or if you are paying. And curious what kind of therapy you are getting. I believe most people who call themselves therapists want people to stay in the system. I want to get people out of it. Ok I will stop now. haha

    Just one question, if you want to answer — do u like hugs? I like to send and receive them so I offer you one if you want one.

    Now I will read your entry from today March 7

    S.

  2. You don’t know how many times I cried, reading your entries on this blog!
    It’s like I found my soulmate, you are putting my deepest thought processes, fears and emotions into words. Your writings have taken a big weight off my shoulders, as a fellow INFP I’ve always felt like an extraterrestrial around my peers. I’m having major problems being accepted by people my age, but at the same time I’m almost always on the same wavelenght with elderly people. I guess it has to do with being an INFP (the worst trait combo to survive in this world, it’s like playing a video game on the hardest difficulty setting) and additionally being a so called “old soul”. Although I’m not necessarily a spiritual person, the “soul age theory” has caught my attention. I would be really interested in hearing your thoughts on it : )

    Also, have you read the poems of Sylvia Path? I love the melancholy and dreamimess in them so much!

    Thank you so much for your work, I have been a silent reader of your blog for months but felt the need today to tell you how appreciated and wonderful you are!

    Sorry for this long post and my broken English, I still wished we could meet someday, although I live in Switzerland and you live on the other side of the globe 😦

    Thank you and I wish you the best of luck for the journey you have ahead of you in your life!

    • Likewise, you lovely, lovely person! Your words touched my heart very deeply indeed. I wish we could meet someday as well—I feel less alone, knowing someone like you, with such a kind heart, and such great depth of feeling, exists in the world.

  3. This resonates a lot with me. Art is what gives me hope too.
    Life can get very lonely but when i’m drawing the strangest and most wonderful thing happens, i don’t feel like just one person, i feel like i am every human that has ever lived and made Art. Art connects people. It brings them together no matter the distance, carrying bits of souls through space and time, through books, music, drawings, and touching people’s hearts. And what fascinates me the most is that we never know the influence we can have on other people’s lives, or in the world, in every little thing, even after we’re “dead”. I believe that, just like everything is connected in nature, like every bee carrying the polen from flower to flower without knowing, every creature that has ever lived is connected and has the power to touch each others lives, wether we know it or not. This is a scary thing, to know that we are responsible for every other living thing on this planet, and that every little thing we do or don’t do can and will affect this everchanging and unfathomable universe. How can somebody be so unimportant and important at the same time? Sometimes i imagine humans, millions of years ago, in a time before writing, telling stories together by the fire in their caves, an ancient moonlight older than Humanity illuminating the paintings of animals in the cave’s walls, the same paintings that are still there today for us to see.

    Do you feel like this when you’re writing or reading or listening to a beautiful piece of music or just contemplating a sunset? I hope everybody does. Our longing to create a good piece of art to touch others can make us suffer, but Art sure is worth it all.

    (Oh, and PS: sorry for any mistakes, english is nor my first language and i probably made mistakes.)

    • I completely agree with everything you wrote—I do the same, I imagine the same thing, sometimes! It’s so wonderful, you know, to reach out and meet other INFPs, through this blog. I feel much less lonely as a result.

  4. Hello 🙂

    I found two very useful playlists on Youtube where a writer share his knowledge about writing and creativity. If you have the time, check it out. You may like it. Personally, I’m learning a lot from him.

    Creative Writing Fiction Tutorials (over 140 videos): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL79242747045EC15D

    Creativity Training (over 30 videos): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL833E9A65BA7F4864

    Take care and keep writing!

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