Being Me

Today I take a trip.
In many ways a transcendental one because my purpose is to define this being that is so much more than just bodily tissue & fluid.

I remember what it's like to be friends with oneself. Not in the schizophrenic manner but more in the being-able-to-live-in-your-own-skin kind of way.

My life has become a complex knot of decisions, Gordian almost.
I'm at that crossroads in life where society (at least here in Malawi) demands that I 'Settle Down', marry, have kids, make those who know me proud.
All of which I have no problem with to be honest.
I've pretty much ran the gamut of irresponsible bachelor-behaviour, the bohemian lifestyle, bad eating habits, promiscuity, religious confusion... and some.

Just about to graduate Summa Cum Laude into Senior bachelorhood.

So the year begins and I accept some family-wide responsibilities, accomodate so & so, educate so & so, handle this, handle that and find myself adapting to this new role almost effortlessly.
The prodigal pariah of the family, nutcase extraordinaire has come full-circle and all are joyous at this momentous transformation.
I revel in their praise, their respect, carry out my DUTIES emphatically and look down upon those who still squirm in the chrysalis of misdirection that being in your twenties is.

And yet... somewhere between all this, I lose touch with my inner chi, I'm running on battery, the fountain diminishes.

Now, at it's lowest ebb I search myself for answers, memories even, I grasp weakly for WHO I AM.

I learn (and hopefully not too late) that one's life can neither be lived for others nor without them. In this dissected state I realise how ME; I; am really just a montage. Of experiences, comparisons, attitudes gleaned from all I interact with.
Powering this, the inner light, the GLUE, holding it all together, the all too elusive X factor... what-who-when-which-how

is it?

am I?

can I?

And so to the crux of my dilemma. Self identity, contentment, MEANING.
Just another pulp philosopher, ah so, leave me be.
These musings are all that convince me that there is a way through the morass.
They pave the way.

Back to being me