Went to supermarket to shop for groceries yesterday. The fridge was all empty; so it was a big one. I strolled through the aisles in a kind of strange joy - the joy of consumption. As I proceeded through the aisles, my trolley got heavier and heavier and eventually became difficult to push it around in narrow aisles. So I parked it in some unpopular corner and went to some section to pick my stuff.
On my way, an itch came whether it was safe to leave all my stuff there. Then I realized that my wallet was in my pocket, so was my phone. Rest in the trolley was goods that I hadn't paid for yet. So it was OK to leave them there. Even if the trolley was taken away, I could have started shopping from the beginning which wouldn't be very pleasurable but certainly not end of the world either.
Suddenly I realized that the level of attachment I felt for that basket was the level of attachment I wanted to feel against my actual belongings. I realized strong relations between objects and my persona wasn't something I wanted to cope with.
And what about the idea of belonging to a person or a person belonging to us? Can the above mentioned sentiment be applied here? Does fear get involved here? If yes - fear of what?
This text brought me again to this G. Marquez quote that I had posted on my FB profile the other day: "...The interpretation of our reality through patterns not our own, serves only to make us ever more unknown, ever less free, ever more solitary."
This text brought me again to this G. Marquez quote that I had posted on my FB profile the other day: "...The interpretation of our reality through patterns not our own, serves only to make us ever more unknown, ever less free, ever more solitary."
1 comment:
Bir balik elinden sabun gibi kayip gidince, kaybederken ve bir sey yapamazken boyle oluyor sanki insan. Ama senin durumu ben degil cohen mutlak anlatmis:
Like a bird on the wire,
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
Like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If i, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If i, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you
Like a baby, stillborn,
Like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
And by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
He said to me, you must not ask for so much.
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
She cried to me, hey, why not ask for more?
Oh like a bird on the wire,
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
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