As it turns to spring, two huge events seem to have triggered my escalating existential fixation. First, I permanently moved half a country away from my family six months ago, for the first time ever in my life. In 2008, I spent four months in Budapest, Hungary, and that was quite a big adventure as well. And it did definitely trigger some existential ponderings. If all these people in this country can speak this complete other language and have this complete other identity and political situation, different values, different landscape, different everything... then what does it mean for me to be alive? I basically broke out of the strange teenage shell of narcissism that in a way had protected me from realizing the vast possibilities of life experience and the sheer quantity of life on earth--which I feel makes existential pondering unavoidable. Europe was a pleasurable experience in that taking in so much newness was pure adrenaline. And yet it was terrifying to suddenly think about how very big and strange the world felt suddenly and how did I end up in this new part of it and what does it mean that there is so much of it here? And if so many people's lives are so different from my own, then what is life exactly? And yet, I didn't get all that preoccupied with these questions. In part that was because the sheer sensory overload of experiencing Europe for the first time was plenty of distraction. But also, somewhere in my mind I always knew that I would be back to my family before long and I did not really feel like I had to make Budapest feel like home for that reason. I still had a home of my own. Budapest was a brave adventure for a young girl of 19, but ultimately a finite one.
Moving to Portland, not knowing when I will be able to afford to go back and visit my parents, not to mention really enjoying Portland and feeling as if I would like to settle down for a bit here, has stirred up all this desire to feel at home here, to make a home here. It has stirred up the recognition that while I love my family and desire to be close to them, I may make a life for myself far away from them for many years. And that means that those family relationships can only take me so far in my sense of being at home in the world right now. And that has caused me to ponder about what it is that makes a place feel like home. I keep remembering the scene in Garden State that first gave me words for this yearning feeling and caused me to recognize it as an essential aspect of young adulthood. If my parent's home no longer feels like my home, what will it take to feel at home in my new city and this next stage of my life?
And that brings me to the second event that triggered my existential fixation: ending a long term relationship. Leaving a long term relationship has felt like jumping off a train mid-trip, between stations, out in the wilderness. I felt myself to be headed to a particular place while I was on that train, both of us having had our ticket in hand for a while now. And though we don't ever really know how long the ride will last when it comes to these things, I had that comforting feeling that I was headed somewhere. And that I had a particular companion. That is the beauty of long term relationships, commitments. It is an enchanting moment when two people decide they want to experience life together, in a way. And the magic of long term intimacy is getting to know how the other person fits into your desired journey and how you can be a part of theirs. And there is a distinct pleasure in viewing another person's experience of life at that intimate level of significant other and enjoying a sort of vicarious fulfillment when you feel that they are growing and prospering and that you have added to that and you have this common goal of fulfillment of two people's life desires. When the relationship ended, it was not like the train had reached its intended destination, but rather like I had sort of jumped from a car mid ride and done a barrel roll down a hill into a wooded area where people don't normally travel, with no streets or sidewalks. Luckily, at this particular moment I had everything I needed to land safely and change my course. I even had the companionship of the very person I had bought my ticket with. In fact, it was almost as if we had both jumped off together and he had held my hand to make sure I landed safely. But whereas before I felt like I was headed somewhere with someone and maybe also a bit like I was being carried and could put my feet up and read the newspaper a bit, this new part of my life has forced me to very much walk on my own two feet to get somewhere, and now I'm trying to navigate where exactly I am and where I want to go.
It seems that in all of the phases of my life up until now, there has always been something cut and dry to keep my perception of my life course just narrow enough for me to not find my own existence incomprehensible. I always had some phase or intention to focus on. For most of my life up until now it was school. Then by the time I decided I didn't want to be in school any longer and wanted to explore new career options, although that triggered some existential questioning, I was also in my long term relationship at this time and able to devote an intense amount of energy and thought to the idea that this relationship was giving my life direction. My partner and I were a team and that gave my existence some greater purpose. I was the "go-to person" for this other person, for a great deal of love, attention, support, and caring. That felt important and grand and profound and meaningful to me. (Again a song popped into my head. My wonderful father is a huge Bruce Springsteen fan.)
So part of my existential thinking process has been letting go of the idea that this person's life is integral to the purpose of my life. And beyond that, exploring the purpose that I want to attach to my life and the goals that I want to set. Truthfully, it has been painful to open up my awareness beyond the various straight line paths of intention that I have drawn up until this point. Suddenly instead of my life feeling as if it is moving toward one particular thing, I now feel like it is just simply expanding outward in all directions, along with my awareness. And the mandatory opening up of my awareness to comprehend my current state of being, has felt a bit like stretching a muscle inside my head further than it can comfortably go. And yet, just like stretching my muscles allows them to become more comfortable in that state, I feel that I will eventually adjust to this awareness.
When it comes to the bigger life goals I feel pretty clear on what I want: I want to write, read, learn, grow, be useful to others, be independent, make a home for myself, travel, and ultimately, at least I think at this moment, I want to find a loving, soulful, and intimate companionship with another person. At the same time, it's hard to be sure that a connection will occur that matches one's idea of fulfilling romantic companionship. And so that is where I am learning to simply embrace my own capacity for such a companionship, continue to try to develop it, and recognize and appreciate connection and love through friendship--knowing that the intentions I am setting for a future romance can only be fulfilled by the discovery of a twin flame, which don't come around too often.
The most fruitful branch of my existential exploration has been to try to coalesce an idea of how I want to live. Not deciding what goals I want to reach or things I want to acquire. Not figuring out where I want to go in life, but figuring out how I want to walk...
Because, really, the vast majority of your life experience is the everyday minutiae. There are the big decisions about where you want to move toward, but there's also the little everyday decisions about how you want to think and feel about the world around you. As a friend of mine put it "You never get over having an existential crisis. The best thing to do is find a core belief, something to which you can devote your whole self and believe in that." And yet, I must say, that I've come to think of my own experience not as an existential crisis (which I would think of as involving maybe a panic attack or depression or suicidal ideation, just because of the word crisis) instead I feel that I'm simply reaching fuller existential consciousness: a fuller understanding and acknowledgement of my own mortality and finite existence on earth, as well as recognition of my isolated human bodily experience irreparably separate and apart from all other beings. But my friend's advice really helped me to feel supported and uplifted by someone who has also plumbed these depths.
I think that my core belief at the moment can only be love. I simply want to live my life with an attitude of openness and receptivity in the world and a desire to give and provide for others. I have learned during these past few weeks that when I can get my mind off of my internal confusion and questioning and just look out all around me, I see other people and animals, I feel their energy, and I sense that I am needed in some way. I feel companionship in my experience of something as small as sitting on the same bus with other strangers. And everywhere I look I see the opportunity to give someone a smile or a kind word. And I feel that this capacity for love is the most powerful thing that I have to give in this world. To lessen suffering and to increase love and beauty in the lives of others is never time wasted. If my life has some meaning it is this, for now. And I know that the journey continues and I can never know what greater existential consciousness than what I currently have will bring.
A brief PSA: If you are going through a bit of this thinking yourself and you are looking for some guidance, I found a very interesting and almost comically practical guide to the subject on Wikihow. And the Wikipedia article is also quite interesting. It's most important to know that increased existential consciousness over the course of one's life is natural and that there are people in the world comfortable with you sharing these feelings. And while this increased consciousness may, at times, bring about fear, sadness, anger, anxiety, even paralysis or shame (as everyone around 'seems' to be going about life without questioning it), the growth of existential consciousness is a good thing. It will cause you to live your life more fully and intentionally. If, for some reason, you feel surrounded by people who are disinterested in or uncomfortable with your growing existential consciousness, please email me at heartstump@gmail.com to share your thoughts with someone. You never need to experience existence in isolation, although you do have that as an option (as part of your expansive freedom). Also, this website has some great quotes on the subject, including a pretty all encompassing coverage of the subject by Stanley Kubrick. And if you want to intellectualize your feelings--which can make them more (or less) palatable--you can always read Nietzsche or Kierkegaard. And when at a total loss, find someone and ask for a hug.
I will finish things with a quotation from an exchange I overheard at a recent get together between two people I had just met that night. Earlier in the evening I was invited to a housewarming party and I was torn between whether I should go or stay home (<----natural introvert). When I remembered how warm and comforting so many of these people are and I contemplated the idea of being open to whatever the night would bring, I could not resist going. However this was definitely in spite of the deep urge to spend another night at home plumbing deeper and deeper into myself for some epiphanic answer. Once I made my decision to go I felt bright and positive. I felt open and full of love and ready to give eyes and ears to the world. At one point, I was sitting on the couch next to a friend and we were watching these two bandmates wrestle with one another. Interestingly, as they physically tustled and played, in between heavy breaths, they had what seemed like a very idiosyncratic dialogue going on, most of which I could not attach any meaning to. But a group of us in the room watched and listened with enthusiasm. And then, at a moment when my attention had been pulled away, this exchange between the two wrestlers rang out over the din in my ear:
"Well then what does it
all mean?" one asked. The other
said,"It means a lot."
My friend and I laughed and smiled and looked to each other for acknowledgment of what we had heard. I could see that we both had a profound appreciation for such powerful words mixed in amid all the banter and play. It was as if these two turned up the dimmer switch on everything that was happening around me. What a beautiful epiphany. And how much more fulfilling and profound to experience in the company of friends and strangers, rather than alone. Maybe the meaning of existence isn't so elusive after all... Maybe it looks at me, all the time, at every single moment, from across a room.... or a bus, a table, or the sky, meowing on the kitchen tile, laughing at my jokes, giving me its milk, roaring through my town on wheels, walking across the floor above me, crying along with my tears, and blowing softly through my hair. I need only to be open to receive it.
