Under our clothes we are all the same. Feb 2012. California
My son, Mishka, has caught a cold, with a runny nose, bad cough and chapped lips and is in bed. I sit in his room, at times reading, at times writing. Lately, I felt a bit stuck in my journal.” Who will want to read about my inner struggles?” I feel ashamed about it all. I have started reading the book Nothing Came from Walking by Conor McKenna. This is a book about the inner path of a man and his feelings along the way. The first several chapters are about feelings of emptiness, so I got scared. Those feelings seemed to be so familiar to me. It reminded me of my feelings when I was looking at the ocean, alone at night in my room. I felt scared for a moment, it seemed to me that if I read this book further, all the ideas that I wanted to write about would be written there! Maybe I should stop reading it altogether??? I do not want to copy someone’s path. I’d like to design my own. We both feel in the same way, and I understand that I’m not so original, so unique. On one hand, I would like to write about something unusual, that no one knows about nor can do. But “I am just like the others” – something said sadly inside me. Then the voice paused and said… “I am just like others” and something smiled inside me. I am the same as others who have those unbearable feelings that I hide with diligence from myself and from people! So…! This means that I can stop hiding it as everyone knows about it anyway ;-))). I felt relieved. My experience is unpleasant but not shameful. ‘Under our clothes we are humans all the same.’ How surprising! This thought came to my mind, in such a happy and fresh way. Thank you Conor!!! Thank you, ”Me”!
“Under our clothes we are all the same.” I should write this on my bathroom mirror, as I usually do with important thoughts. This phrase can probably be a key to something ahead. My difficult thoughts and inner struggles resembled Mishka’s sniffles and temperature. What can be so special about them, nothing. This is not a reason to hide them, pretending that they do not exist. Actually, it is so intimate to share my very unpleasant feelings! It brings connections, it brings trust. I do not need to write about something unusual in this project. I will write about stuff all people know, but sometimes do not know that they know ☺)! Are not aware of.
“Mishka, please blow your nose more often, do it right now!” I commanded to my son when I noticed him puffing and breathing through his mouth.