A thing of beauty is a joy forever 


I used to want to own people, in fear of them not being entirely mine. I used to want to own sceneries, cities and experiences, in fear of not feeling like my roots were rooted in these very places. I didn’t want to lose my experience of London, and so I tried to own the city with all its secrets. I never wanted to let go of the beautiful sceneries I passed on the train on the roads of Europe, and when I see it this unbearable hurt consume me because I want to own it, be it, be one with the beauty and never let it slip away and I got tears in my eyes as the train kept flying by and I no longer could see that specific view. It was gone. I would never see it again. I didn’t own it.

The will to own things has been the root to my pain. I find things I love and try to attach myself to them, as to be a part of them, and I cling, grasp, follow and adjust my very own self so that I can stick tighter to this thing: or person. 
I find a person I love and attach myself to him, as to be a part of him––so he can’t let go, and I can’t be left. I cling, I grasp, I follow and adjust my very own self so that I can stick tighter to this person and I want to own him. I want every part of him to belong to me so there are no parts left to give to someone else because I felt empty and needed someone else’s parts to cover up my own incompleteness. 
You can only lose the things you cling to. 

See, my history of leaving is a consequence of my fear of losing and it’s a contradiction I can’t explain but still feel so incredibly clear and it’s my root of all evil. I’ve found things––people and dreams, that I love so deep and profound that I cling to them, attach myself to them, want to become a part of them and their world. But then my fear of losing them gets too large: my fear of being left alone, small on the ground, with nothing and no one, and I cling harder, and they suffocate and I feel the leaving slowly arrive, and I still can’t bear the thought of being left so I pack up and depart. I call it new beginnings. I call it endings with no goodbye. I call myself a leaver, while in fact: I am just really scared to be left.

You can only lose the things you cling to, and this is where I found my salvation.

Lightness is a feeling you can’t own, and the lighter the feeling gets, the bigger it feels. You can call it possessions, and it can show itself as both physical and mental. The less I owned in terms of material belongings, the less I realised I needed, the better and lighter and freer I felt. I stopped being afraid of being robbed, break things or lose things. I learned that as long as I felt whole and at peace as a being, the material stuff around just became weather. 
Lightness showed as a physical means came by learning to let go of owning. I see a scenery so beautiful and profound, and in the past I wanted to own it, become a part of it; cling to it. But detachment teaches me to observe the scenery, smile, feel a profound gratitude that this earth holds this scenery and I smile yet again for being profoundly grateful that I get to walk this earth for a while and experience it. 
I find a person I love and in the past I wanted to own him, cling to him, become of a part of his own self so that I could not lose him and I wanted myself to be his whole world. Lightness teaches me that people are weather and you can not build your home in them, can not own them. You can only observe and be fully there to see and learn and listen, open yourself up completely to be loved and let the other person feel loved in return, and if the person decides to go on …. that will be fine with you. You still have your own self, your own peace. The rest around you is just weather
and you will learn that the less you own: material baggage or emotional baggage, the freer your will feel. Lighter. 

Imagine a state of mind where you felt like there was nothing and no one you could lose, because you didn’t hold them in the first place. Wouldn’t that make you appreciate their very presence even more, because you would be able to take it all in even more profoundly and turn experiences into your identity instead of the person.

Maybe, we should learn to own experiences, instead of people.



"This Lonely Town" by The Glass Child >>>


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drunk on someone else’s love,
or couch,
and I’ve never felt more at home.

I fled myself,
from the life I’ve built
because I’ve been inhabiting routines I don’t want to stand for.

Inhabiting skin I’d rather shed
but still took on
like a soldier serving his country,
for that’s what they told me to do.
But I was not
or wise,
but young and foolish,
for what is this thing? Trading passions for a tiny bit of acceptance,

and I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls
with clean blood
and organised drawers.
I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests
at night when no one else is alive,
or awake,
however you choose to see it,
and I live in my own flames.
Sometimes burning too bright and too wild
to make things last 
or handle
myself or anyone else
and so I run.
Run run run,
far and wide
until my bones ache and lungs split
and it feels good.
Hear that, people? It feels good,
because I am the slave and ruler of my own body
and I wish to do with it exactly as I please,
and living in this skin is hard and painful, most of the times,

because I never volunteered to take this on.

The daily sacrifice of heart over mind,
the forever on going task of explaining this and that,
and why I don’t want to look like this and
be like that
but still here I am and if this is the body I’ve been given I’m sure as hell gonna make it work.
If this is the place I’ve been given, I’m sure as hell gonna make this work.

So I fled the me that was never really me and I’m on my way. To newer lands and uncleaned streets
for I’ve had enough of childish safety in comfort.
Enough of all telling me to look and do, like this and that,

and I never meant to please anyone but myself
and you can call me selfish,
throw words like knives in the dark but I will not listen,
for not listening to sharp words brought me to where I am today
and I believe in the path I’ve been given. If my only task in this life is to walk it,
I surely will walk it
prouder than anyone else.

If this is the path I’ve been given, I will walk it
prouder than anyone else,
for no one else can.

// from my book You’re Doing Just Fine ☾

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