At times, I think Sartre was right.I have no need for hot pokes -- hell is other people.
People. Wouldn’t life be nice without them? Every decision would be easy. No hurt feelings could ever happen. No one would judge what we do. No one would tell us “ought tos,” “musts,” and “shoulds.” We would be in paradise, living a life of Riley, and we could mix metaphors like that with abandon.
Of course, there’s no real logic that paragraph. It’s escapist thinking that comes around when I’m being pulled in too many directions, and feeling too many people making too many demands.
“Go here. Go there. Go out. Go inside. Go up. Go down. Faster. Faster. Slow down. It’s too blurry. You don’t care. You care too much. What are doing there? What are thinking now? Why aren’t you doing what I want you to do? Can’t you see that my way is the best way for to go? If you don’t think like me, you are selfish and possibly clinical. I’d never treat you that way. I’d do what I think you should do. Listen to me. Listen to my needs. They are more important than yours”
Clutter and noise. Noise and clutter. Who can think in the midst that? Who can find the directions a map? “Honk, honk. Beep. beep. Beep. beep. Honk, honk. Screech. Bang. Crunch! Look what you’ve done to me. Why weren’t you paying attention?”
It’s a traffic jam of people telling me what to do, who I should be. Time to find my way to a rest area. One by one, I drive away onto slower roads, until I am alone on the road that is me.
Then I can look inside and listen to my own inner wisdom.
It doesn't yell answers. It merely speaks what I already know.
−me strauss Letting me be
