having it all - old post
I don’t know if it’s an American thing to want it all, but certainly it was in this country that I started to feel that I needed to work harder to have it all.
Here I came to realize that I want it all, that it is possible. My all might be too much, might be too little. It’s, actually, well, all. The key, I guess, is that you have to define all. All depends on how you want to feel during the present, now holds you and belongs to you.
All is part of you and also depends on what you’re going to get out of what you do - be it your job, be it who you are, be it just the way you’re going to wake in the morning. Ultimately, it seems like what is going to feel like to be you depends on your definition of all.
Is all your ultimate goal? Is it your path? On what side of the road are you? Are you crossing it slowly? Or you’re just running to get to the other side? What if there’s more than one other side? What if you decide to stop for a good laugh? What if you realize that at some point you took the wrong turn, can you go back, can you? And if you do go back is that going to help you achieve all?
And then there are those things you decide on the blink of an eye or those that consume more of your time, and energy and all that jazz. If life is a bank and you are an investor what are the risks you’re willing to take? How much time do you have to invest, are you able to commit to long-term investments? Time is against you.
One single day or fractions of a day can trap you into a chamber of memories, the ones you want to forget - the ones you insist on forgetting. Just like the memory of someone you love deeply and probably the person you need the most leaving and not even having the chance to say goodbye. The memory of her eyes closed and her skin pale as you have never seen before. Because you remember her skin bright and golden, like pieces of the sunset sun in a remote place in your hometown. The sun that kissed your skin, the sun that has made it possible for mariposas to fly around and search for flowers and perfume that go untouched, not felt by us, by our detachment from the *sensorial* part of existence.
Here I came to realize that I want it all, that it is possible. My all might be too much, might be too little. It’s, actually, well, all. The key, I guess, is that you have to define all. All depends on how you want to feel during the present, now holds you and belongs to you.
All is part of you and also depends on what you’re going to get out of what you do - be it your job, be it who you are, be it just the way you’re going to wake in the morning. Ultimately, it seems like what is going to feel like to be you depends on your definition of all.
Is all your ultimate goal? Is it your path? On what side of the road are you? Are you crossing it slowly? Or you’re just running to get to the other side? What if there’s more than one other side? What if you decide to stop for a good laugh? What if you realize that at some point you took the wrong turn, can you go back, can you? And if you do go back is that going to help you achieve all?
And then there are those things you decide on the blink of an eye or those that consume more of your time, and energy and all that jazz. If life is a bank and you are an investor what are the risks you’re willing to take? How much time do you have to invest, are you able to commit to long-term investments? Time is against you.
One single day or fractions of a day can trap you into a chamber of memories, the ones you want to forget - the ones you insist on forgetting. Just like the memory of someone you love deeply and probably the person you need the most leaving and not even having the chance to say goodbye. The memory of her eyes closed and her skin pale as you have never seen before. Because you remember her skin bright and golden, like pieces of the sunset sun in a remote place in your hometown. The sun that kissed your skin, the sun that has made it possible for mariposas to fly around and search for flowers and perfume that go untouched, not felt by us, by our detachment from the *sensorial* part of existence.
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