“A life lived without reflection is not lived,” says Socrates. Meriç Bilgiç also adds, “A life we spend constantly thinking is not lived.” How do we decide whether a life has been lived or not? “We live one way or another!” Is it like this or that? How do we decide whether a life has been lived or not? What about how to live? How will we live? Ourselves? How much of this decision belongs to us and how much of it has been shaped? What about our personality? Our actions, our thoughts… What about our emotions? Could it be determined? Could it be that we are taught how to feel? Maybe “character is a person's prison!”
What a nightmare!
A self that hinders life... A prison from which you cannot escape, cannot change, and sometimes cannot even realize it. Does a person become entangled in himself like a chain tied to existence? To exist is to be yourself, but every time you scream about your absence, it gnaws at you like a snake gnaws its tail.
What a paradox!
Existence appears to a person as a punishment, but it turns into non-existence. How difficult it is to break the chains, to go one step further both inside and outside. Can a person be purified from himself? Can it destroy an entire existence? Can he digest his fears, anger, hurts and regrets? Can he gratefully replace the remnants of his past, sometimes trash, on the shelf? Can a person choose today and this moment despite himself? Can a person accept and embrace this truth despite the mirrors screaming at his loneliness? And can this reality blend in with people, with the unity that comes with loneliness for everyone? *Can a person be himself and overflow among people? Or can he be himself with people? Can he choose "himself", who he is? Can he choose between existing and non-existent at every moment of life and choose to be himself? Being the only one among endless possibilities when choosing who you are? To be the one you choose and decide? Freely turning an uncertain existence into your own existence and creating a new you, at every moment... Knowing that you will disappear, knowing that you will die in an uncertain time and place. Knowing that one day all your work will fly away...
You will live until you die, only until you die, but until you live You will love it... How brave it is to be yourself! What courage to be free! To the extent that you can determine how determined it is… Fears and anxieties and heart palpitations… Could these be related? Or is what seems like a punishment for existence actually a person's creation of himself with joy and enthusiasm? Can freedom of choice trigger excitement rather than fear? Can life be like a game instead of a heavy novel? Could it be that the reality of death does not imply meaninglessness but the meaning of the present and the ephemerality and meaninglessness of grief, wars and pain? How helpless we are in the face of death, can this helplessness provide some comfort? Threat, fear, insecurity, control, grandiosity, failure, injustice... Can it reduce the burden of these?
Why did I ask so many questions? None! I just wanted to throw a bone. Then let me end the article with a poem by Edip Cansever, let it open your heart a little...
END
These are what Ester said
Do not fear your loneliness
These are what Ester said
And let it come. and let all my words pass away > But everyone should be themselves
Then everyone should be themselves
One day everyone should be themselves
This is what Esther said br /> It already is.
Because it is.
Edip Cansever*
Read: 0
