“There are only three kinds of scenes: A fight, a seduction, or a negotiation.” – Mike Nichols
“There are only three kinds of scenes: A fight, a seduction, or a negotiation.” – Mike Nichols
What curious structures one encounters when one dares to venture further away from one’s cave.
D. my partner in crime ascending to nowhere in particular.
Ah, the big question. Personally, I think that if you haven’t asked this question, then you aren’t self-aware. So basically, if you have a soul, you’ve asked this question. And if you’ve asked this question, then I’m of the opinion that you do have a destiny.
But before you start imagining yourself waving to the joyful crowds on the day of your parade for saving the world from total annihilation, let’s pause for a second and think about what it really means to have a destiny and purpose in this life. Don’t roll your eyes. This is important. There are people in this world who have chosen to believe that it’s their destiny to blow up a train station or something. So, destiny and life purpose can be an unbelievably powerful thing to believe in.
Side note: please don’t blow anyone up. That’s not what life is really about.
Oooooo. Did you just get a shiver? Because I got a shiver. This is one of those words that carries so much meaning behind it, we don’t really know how to completely explain it. Those seven letters practically sing with purpose, importance, and a kind of unstoppable power that both whispers in your ear and shouts into the cosmos and back again.
But what is destiny?
Typically, when we imagine we have a destiny, we see ourselves accomplishing grand things. Saving princesses, slaying dragons, and quitting your miserable job to start a company that becomes so successful, your mean old boss begs to work for you. Fame and butt loads of money roll in, of course. What destiny would be complete without that? Oh, and while we’re at it, I’d like one of those replicating machines from Star Trek. We imagine conquering the impossible. We hope for superpowers. We picture victory, sweet victory.
Unfortunately, replicators don’t exist. 😦 And sadly, most of the above are, in fact, pure fantasy. Even if every person in the world had a destiny, surely there aren’t that many princesses. Or dragons. Or money, to be honest. So, if we believe that everyone has a destiny — and I do— then what kind of destiny should we be looking for?
The truth about destiny is that firstly, for most people, it’s not a singular grand task. Sure, saving a princess sounds very cut and dry. Difficult, but easy to grasp the concept of. Find the princess. Save said princess from evil _____. Tada! All done. But destiny, real destiny, isn’t like that. It’s entirely possible that a person might come across a situation in which it becomes clear that there is a task to complete and it is important. Life is a beautiful, and painful, variety of things. And things most certainly happen. However, in most cases, for most people, real true destiny is in the small moments. In the magnificence of every day.
Once you take off the fairy-tale goggles and gently set them aside. (Please don’t angrily rip them off, they get us through quite a lot of hard times, respect the dreamer in you and please don’t let it die. It’s a special part of your soul that allows you to imagine the impossible. Letting it die would be like ceasing to see several colors of life.) You can now have the ability to reshape the way you look at what having a destiny means, and also what your destiny might actually be. See, another reason why you keep dreaming about what your destiny is is because you haven’t found your personal destiny. Daydreaming is a kind of superpower, but it has it’s place. You can’t find your purpose if you’re looking in the wrong place.
Once you have truly embraced what destiny isn’t, you can now start looking at what you’re destiny, or purpose might be. See, destiny doesn’t need a parade to be grand, or a reward of vast riches to be important. Destiny is really, about being yourself. This is where fairy-tales aren’t wrong. A hero fulfills his/her destiny not by defeating the evil whatsitsface, but by learning to be true to themselves in that moment of decision. Look back at every story ever told. The good ones. The hero had some sort of personal problem to overcome or deal with, before being able to fight the big bad guy and save the day. More importantly, they wouldn’t have been able to defeat the baddie unless they dealt with the fight within themselves first. This is where destiny is found. Within, not in the external action. You can do the same thing, just minus the evil sorcerer.
So how do you figure out your destiny? Don’t ask the universe. Don’t ask your best friend, or your mom, or your coach. Ask yourself. If you don’t know, find out. It’s probably because you haven’t challenged yourself, or there’s something else going on, or you’re already in the middle of your big fight within yourself and either you don’t want to recognize it or you can’t see it. It’s difficult to recognize the scope of the storm when you’re just struggling to stand up in the winds, sometimes.
How do you get to know yourself, you ask? Put your phone down. Spend some time with yourself. Think, inside your own head without anything interrupting you for a designated period of time. Journal. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what to write. Getting started is the hardest part. Find a list of questions that you might ask someone to get to know them. Write that question down, and pretend someone asked you that question. What would your answer be? Write it down. No one gets to know a person in a day, give yourself some time. Be kind and patient with yourself. Your purpose isn’t going to arrive on a silver platter, served by a gloved and poised butler. You need to search for it.
It’s worth the wait, I promise.
Writer, dreamer, critic and believer. Freethinker, Skeptic/Realist, and Renaissance woman.
At the Bank of Consequences there are no overdraft facilities, and debts are called in as soon as they are noticed”
“Never presume to know a person based on the one-dimensional window of the internet. A soul can’t be defined by critics, enemies or broken ties with family or friends. Neither can it be explained by posts or blogs that lack facial expressions, tone or insight into the person’s personality and intent. Until people “get that”, we will forever be a society that thinks Beautiful Mind was a spy movie and every stranger is really a friend on Facebook.”
It’s all about this picture quote: (featuring a battered foot of a ballet dancer)
“Everyone wants to be successful until they see what it actually takes.”
One Ian Patrick Pearce said:
“Some of us wanted to do what it takes until we saw what “successful” looks like.
Not many people who give me advice have lives I want. Almost no one does.
Redefining my own personal meaning for success has been a much more worthwhile endeavor.”
Which a Roylee Walker answered:
“So you basically mean lowering your standards until you are satisfied.”
And Ian retorted:
“No, I mean redefining our own personal meaning of success. Which is what I said.
For me, it meant only competing to be better than the me from yesterday, and no one else. For you, it can mean lowering your standards, and that’s okay.”
A William Albert chimed in:
“We don’t need to be successful, we need to be Happy.”
Hetha Smetha (I wonder if it is really her name) thrown in:
“I’ll take mediocrity…those who want it can have it.”
And others contributed their unremarkable thoughts. Some of them downright stupid but C’est la vie. Me, I learned a lot from listening and shutting my mouth, unless I have something meaningful to say.
And life goes on.
For several years, I had been bored. Not a whining, restless child’s boredom (although I was not above that) but a dense, blanketing malaise. It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself derivative). We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time. We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underwhelmed. Mona Lisa, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collapsing, volcanoes erupting. I can’t recall a single amazing thing I have seen firsthand that I didn’t immediately reference to a movie or TV show. A fucking commercial. You know the awful singsong of the blasé: Seeeen it. I’ve literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can’t anymore. I don’t know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script.
It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.
And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don’t have genuine souls.
It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters because I’m not a real person and neither is anyone else.
I would have done anything to feel real again.
~ Gillian Flynn
“There’s something about arriving in new cities, wandering empty streets with no destination. I will never lose the love for the arriving, but I’m born to leave.”
― Charlotte Eriksson
I wish I could say I have a love-hate relationship with food, at least, that way, there is still one positive side to it but the truth is I neither love nor hate food. For me consuming any form of nourishment is nothing but a necessary evil. I don’t enjoy the act nor the taste. My father said I eat like a soldier and it doesn’t change since then. I gobble and gulp the food as if there is no tomorrow and with minimal chewing. The sooner it’s done the better. If I have one feeling which associated with food that would be guilt.
I feel guilty when I eat and I don’t know why. Never been anorexic or bulimic. Never had so much issue with my weight. Of course, I don’t want to get fat who does anyway but a serious problem regarding weight I never have. But I feel guilty nonetheless when consuming a fair quantity of food. What is a fair amount in my book? Eating three times or more a day. I feel that I should be eating only once or not at all. If I could skip a meal or two, That would be ideal. I feel better that way. Believe you me if I can go on without food I will, there is no doubt about that.
I only eat when I’m dying of hunger or craving for something. Mostly fried crunchy food because sweets I can’t tolerate. I never fancy cakes or ice cream. I can eat them without a problem (if you consider lactose and gluten intolerance not a problem) but I draw the line at chocolates. No matter how hard I try I simply cannot acquire the taste for it. I can go so far as saying I hate them. I don’t care if they are artisanal or expensive coated with eatable gold leaf, if it’s chocolate, I pass.
So, where is my aversion for food originated from?
From my youth, where else you might say, but I don’t think so. We were poor and every meal we considered a feast back then. I grew up on a diet of seafood being born and bred in a fishpond. Meat was scarce and so hard to come by we only had them once a week on Sunday. If you want to know a little bit more about how my life was when I was growing up, you can read some of the painful details here and here.
Anyway, whatever psychological issues I have with food, I don’t know where it comes from. All I can say is: Food doesn’t excite me. I wish I can go on without.
A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April — drip — drip — drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon’s meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs —
A poor Old Widow in her weeds.
What I feel these days? I don’t know anymore. It is nothing like I’ve felt before but, whatever it is, it’s overlaid with so many other emotions that it’s difficult to isolate…
“Walls have ears.
Doors have eyes.
Trees have voices.
Beasts tell lies.
Beware the rain.
Beware the snow.
Beware the man
You think you know.
-Songs of Sapphique”
“I have to admit, an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it’s perfect… As long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.”
This quote above reminds me of an episode when during the happiest, wildest, confusing, enjoyable painful saddest ride of my life when I was lost looking for my rainbow connection the captain ball of my basketball team refused despite his teammates urging him to put a stop to his shenanigans and properly court me so we could all move on (meaning if I turned down the guy the next in line can try his luck and if I accept him then they will know the chase is over and life can go back to normal) he said: “Why would I do that? This way, you can all wait forever and I will always be at the head of the queue.” He was seventeen, sweet and such a handful. I was thirty-one, looking like sixteen, daring and crazy like hell but has a decency and sense not to give in to temptation. Those were the days.
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