To do... Or to be?
It has been a lovely weekend. A good ending to a dire week. Well take away the fact that I have become 'unhinged' by the end of the corporate whore and left strangely liberated. Freedom of the mind, I prefer that phrase. Or to coin my sister Charlotte 'unplugged from battery of the matrix'. The best thing you can take from the accusations of others is the comfort of the company of friends. So that's just what I did.
Bonfire Night was spent at a good friends house, staggering distance from the farm. The children run excitedly round the garden in the dark, anticipating the fear of the fireworks. Prosecco flows like water, my choice of music is berated, the politeness of good friends is the best. It's not polite. Ok so its probably inappropriate to play chav dubstep to octogenarian grandparents. They don't get it, and Brixton is a million miles away from country living, but I blame the bus I had to catch on Friday night. Chase & Status further corrupted my mind.
We watch the fireworks from the warm safety of my friends conservatory, and as the children wander off with their dads, we are sat, left to ponder the world. The solidarity of good female company, in the darkly lit room, we are no longer satisfied with the 'hot men' conversations. Now we question the meaning of existing. What is life about really? Do we even know who we are anymore?
My friends mother places the salient question. Are you doing or being? What does that even mean? I can't answer at first, it's not something you want to question too much or you will wake up and realise your dreams. And realise you aren't living the dream, just the expectations of society. Are you doing what is expected of you in life, or being who you are? Ok, my friend said, enough procrastinating. Own the conversation. Don't quote in the third person. Fine, but its difficult to do so. Life is fluid. Surely, I say, this is a conversation you have with yourself much earlier in life, when you are in your early 20's and working out your place in life. But I realise, life is constantly changing, to define yourself as one person and stick with that opinion for the rest of your life. How dull. People enter your life for a reason sometimes, and the influences of others make you change. I cannot answer the questions, I don't think I do know who I am anymore. Is this a mid-life crisis?
My husband is the perfect answer to this question. He is a farmer. He is being a farmer, not just doing a job. He owns it 100%. Its his passion, his obsession and importantly, a way of life. A lifestyle choice. Not just a job. He wouldn't change his life, he doesn't constantly search for the true meaning like I do. And I respect that, hours spent listening to music alone in his tractor. He doesn't have the wanderlust to escape from being a farmer.
I joke to him that before he met me, he hadn't travelled any further than Goole. He denies this, he claims I opened his mind. Did I really? Yet even after the experiences he has had, he returns back to his tractor, has chats with his farmer friends about such topics as mole baiting, drain maintenance and hedge cutting. He talks about 'old ewes' and 'tups', no mention that he once saw suspected WOMD on the road to Iraq. As though he has never left. I, on the other hand constantly strive to have stranger experiences. Why do I? Why can I not just be satisfied with the life I have? I would love to live a hundred existences, to experience everything life has to offer.
I want to return to Syria, help the refugees. I want to go to Asia and eat street food. I want to visit my sister in Ghana just for the weekend. Why? Why do I find such solace sitting alone in an airport departure lounge on my way to a war torn country? Why am I such a gypsy? How many places can I visit before I finally return home to my farm and family and realise everything I need is right here? I don't think I ever will, no matter what I want to be. It's always more interesting to chase the alternative, to live on a knife edge of uncertainty.
Certainly the best writing comes from the pain and angst of frustration. It is not satisfying to just write about my character staring at a view, admiring the sunset, they need to have heart breaking dilemmas and thoughts running through their minds at that very moment. And therein lies the clarity. I can finally answer the question. I am, like a typical Gemini, experiencing as much as I can though doing and being. For me, there is no black or white answer to my friends question. It would be, by its very definition, far too boring just to be either.
Bonfire Night was spent at a good friends house, staggering distance from the farm. The children run excitedly round the garden in the dark, anticipating the fear of the fireworks. Prosecco flows like water, my choice of music is berated, the politeness of good friends is the best. It's not polite. Ok so its probably inappropriate to play chav dubstep to octogenarian grandparents. They don't get it, and Brixton is a million miles away from country living, but I blame the bus I had to catch on Friday night. Chase & Status further corrupted my mind.
We watch the fireworks from the warm safety of my friends conservatory, and as the children wander off with their dads, we are sat, left to ponder the world. The solidarity of good female company, in the darkly lit room, we are no longer satisfied with the 'hot men' conversations. Now we question the meaning of existing. What is life about really? Do we even know who we are anymore?
My friends mother places the salient question. Are you doing or being? What does that even mean? I can't answer at first, it's not something you want to question too much or you will wake up and realise your dreams. And realise you aren't living the dream, just the expectations of society. Are you doing what is expected of you in life, or being who you are? Ok, my friend said, enough procrastinating. Own the conversation. Don't quote in the third person. Fine, but its difficult to do so. Life is fluid. Surely, I say, this is a conversation you have with yourself much earlier in life, when you are in your early 20's and working out your place in life. But I realise, life is constantly changing, to define yourself as one person and stick with that opinion for the rest of your life. How dull. People enter your life for a reason sometimes, and the influences of others make you change. I cannot answer the questions, I don't think I do know who I am anymore. Is this a mid-life crisis?
My husband is the perfect answer to this question. He is a farmer. He is being a farmer, not just doing a job. He owns it 100%. Its his passion, his obsession and importantly, a way of life. A lifestyle choice. Not just a job. He wouldn't change his life, he doesn't constantly search for the true meaning like I do. And I respect that, hours spent listening to music alone in his tractor. He doesn't have the wanderlust to escape from being a farmer.
I joke to him that before he met me, he hadn't travelled any further than Goole. He denies this, he claims I opened his mind. Did I really? Yet even after the experiences he has had, he returns back to his tractor, has chats with his farmer friends about such topics as mole baiting, drain maintenance and hedge cutting. He talks about 'old ewes' and 'tups', no mention that he once saw suspected WOMD on the road to Iraq. As though he has never left. I, on the other hand constantly strive to have stranger experiences. Why do I? Why can I not just be satisfied with the life I have? I would love to live a hundred existences, to experience everything life has to offer.
I want to return to Syria, help the refugees. I want to go to Asia and eat street food. I want to visit my sister in Ghana just for the weekend. Why? Why do I find such solace sitting alone in an airport departure lounge on my way to a war torn country? Why am I such a gypsy? How many places can I visit before I finally return home to my farm and family and realise everything I need is right here? I don't think I ever will, no matter what I want to be. It's always more interesting to chase the alternative, to live on a knife edge of uncertainty.
Certainly the best writing comes from the pain and angst of frustration. It is not satisfying to just write about my character staring at a view, admiring the sunset, they need to have heart breaking dilemmas and thoughts running through their minds at that very moment. And therein lies the clarity. I can finally answer the question. I am, like a typical Gemini, experiencing as much as I can though doing and being. For me, there is no black or white answer to my friends question. It would be, by its very definition, far too boring just to be either.
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