The ‘self’ is a person’s essential being that distinguishes them from others, especially considered as the object of introspection or reflexive action. Interacting with the ‘self’ of other people is an essential part of (re)defining your own self. Your self acts in respect to others (initiative) and also it reacts (reception and reciprocation). Your deeds and your words paint your personality. Presence and absence included.
Last week, I’ve read something that surprised me in a good way (at the beginning) then startled me in a sad way (as I was delving through the lines of a young soul looking, still, for his own ‘self’).
Age-wise, I could have been his mother. Yes, you’re already sensing that Godzilla head curbing the surface of the ocean, scaring the fishermen (those who lived to see). But horror, catastrophic, movies are the bad example, focusing your attention out, over the observer. Because I wish to be the kibitzer, at least for half the length of this blog post. Let’s consider another movie example: “That’s My Boy” and gradually get back to myself and my sex life.
As far as I can remember, I always knew who I am and what I want to do in life (even when panic attacked me, out of the blue, I knew in whose arms to fall). And money never were at the middle of it. Justice (said my young self) was the cure and the ultimate fix to this corrupt world. Turns out that the world has no appetite for justice. Children and family filled the void. Overwhelming my maturing self. Burning the years out, I’ve ignored the burn out. Until I couldn’t. My ‘self’ felt empty, exhausted, spent. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Yes, Newton’s third law applies to mothers too. And to the self. No wonder that we all (I think) have an ego wounded self. The true wonder is when we learn about it, identify it, isolate it and harness it. Otherwise we cannot understand what the notion of unconditional love means. It goes way beyond Newton’s laws of physics.
With a penchant for authority, manifest for many, I always love to listen to the little rebel inside my self (and next to myself), to crack a rule, to challenge a habit, to discover and taste some adventure. Along with a quite impressive inventory of disadvantages, this dicey attitude has brought me to a new territory. To a land where your self is no longer feeling hurt, or outraged, or revenged, or satiated, in respect to this or that other self. To a land where you first wish to walk in others’ shoes, where you think twice before judging, or even better: where you crave for common grounds instead of sentences. Have you seen “The Cobbler”?
Talking about magic realism comedy-drama, what if there’s a world (somewhere, dunno where), an imaginary one for sure, in which teens get smart and smarter, love to learn law and science and maths, grow up to build exquisite ships and constructions, grow old raising their kids up, grow tired (don’t ask me of what, since this is supposed to be a sublime utopia) and, tossing their clothes away, along with other useless materials and concepts, find happiness in nature, with nature, including with their own sexual natures (yes, there’s more than one – per self). No peer pressure, no societal standards, no money leverage. Just your self, his self, this or that self, staring and studying each other.
An utopia like the one imagined above has ended when the inventor of murder proved himself capable to kill only for getting a bit of attention. Thus triumphed the ego wounded self.