the grass is greener if you water it
30/03/2010 § 1 Comment
For so long do we live in fear of the unknown. For as long as I can remember, I suffered from this cyclical symptom, downward spiralling, lost in my thoughts, unable to exist in the present and enjoy what I have been given.
I always found that thinking outside of your box — not the same as thinking outside the system’s box — was addictive. I could fantasize about the things I would do, how much I would accomplish, what I would be wearing, what kind of dog I would have and an apartment to match. I could envision times spent with friends going a certain way, my life ready, there in the future, waiting for me to catch up. I remember being 10 years old and wishing I was 40. I remember being 23 and wishing I was 40. What if I never made it to 40?
I wouldn’t say that I ruined anything that I had, with friends and family and love and passion, but I definitely didn’t appreciate the present. I always thought the grass was greener on the other side: to be single meant freedom, to be in a relationship meant not being lonely. All of it was, not wrong, but misconstrued.
If you can truly remove yourself from fixating ahead — although it is good to have a flexible vision of where you want to go — or dwelling on the past — although one must learn from past mistakes — you can stop watering water on the other side of the bridge. Keep that water for wherever you are standing, so that you have a comfortable place to lie down on, in the sun, arms outstretched, or something to feed your horse with. Whatever you want to do with it, it’s yours.
For the first few months here in Buenos Aires, I felt like I had made a mistake in thinking that everything would be fruitful and perfect and adventurous here. I had envisioned me and my typewriter — which was abandoned in the arms of a trustworthy friend — furiously fighting something greater than ourselves. The mistake I made was thinking that the “something greater” was something outside myself.
I thought I was pretty well-adjusted. Then, I was emotionally pushed to my limits. I had not felt that kind of deep, introspective hallowness for quite some time. Yet, I still found a lightness in that very dark and difficult time. The evermore empowering. The result is a new-found sense of agency and self-spatial relation. My tears I shed are not for the past nor the future, rather a reaction to the true happiness I feel right now.
My tears water the grass I walk upon.