Seeing Versus Looking
The riad is incredibly quiet this evening, which is kind of strange for me, considering that my home is usually filled with music, enthusiastic conversations, all sorts of joyful exclamations, and a lot of people. Everyone’s gone out for the day to show Tangier to a dear friend of ours who came to visit for a short 2-day trip. I was unfortunately too ill to join them; food poisoning became a severe one due to my body exhaustion. It’s the vicious circle I have to deal with now, having to manage an immune system too fragile to fight the most common and inoffensive bacteria. For me, there’s no such thing as common and inoffensive whatever anymore. I have to be overly cautious and my present infection is just another reminder that I have to be extremely careful every time I go out, no matter how high-end or casual a situation I might find myself in. There’s no sign, no warning, no caution. It’s like living with an invisible enemy waiting for me to drop my guard, patient and implacable, and there’s nothing I can do to avoid any of it.
The riad.
In fact, the problem lies somewhere else, in my body’s inability to recuperate fast enough after an intense period of stress, prolonged work, or high-demanding energy that causes my system to remain in a constant low-battery mode. And if I don’t considerably slow down, it will inevitably create a sort of perfect storm resulting in me crashing in one way or another. It’s highly frustrating for someone like me. To use a sports analogy, I’m not an easy player to bench; it’s go go go, more more more, and that, all the time. It’s a weird situation for me to be in, it’s so out of character. At least it’s a bit quieter for my friends to be around me nowadays, as they don’t have to try and follow my multi-conversational discussions simultaneously going on at all times. As undeniably entertaining as it can be, I suppose it might also be somewhat tiring for anyone engaged in any of those conversations with me…! While less enjoyable, I guess it’s more efficient relationship-wise. I have no doubt that this must be a major silver lining for my entourage!
As for me, I’m still learning to navigate through it all. It can become depressing to live in some sort of a bubble, to feel trapped and isolated in a context you can’t truly escape from. You have to accept it. It’s the only key that will unlock your emotional and spiritual freedom. I’m more the thoughtful, strategic type, but I’m the all-in-finesse bulldozer type when it comes to finding my way out. I’ve never truly needed “keys” before, so it’s an awkward and paradoxical metaphor, but it’s nonetheless true. It’s a major adjustment for me. I don’t remember implying ever before that I was too tired to do anything or mentioning that I needed a moment to recharge before going head-on. It comes with its ups and downs obviously, as nobody likes to be sick or completely exhausted. I have to find different roads to get to my destinations, and while it might seem longer (a permanent feeling, in all honesty), it also gives me another perspective on my environment. I shared a little about it in some of my previous journal entries. It’s hard to see what’s really happening around me when I’m going 300 miles an hour. I can pay attention to pretty much nothing when I am focused and obsessed with my search to “find”. The truth is that I just can’t find anything more than my own preconceived sparks of what I convinced myself I was out looking for in the first place. The only element that will be found is my insatiable need for validation, the supposedly holy grail of my quest for inspirational grandeur remains unseen, no matter how close I might have come to discovering something that could have been so much more significant in the end. That’s the real casualty of being full-on all the time. At least, for me it was. And as difficult as it might be, I’m progressively coming to terms with this…
I used to stop when I knew I had to take a look, whereas now, I actively wait and find myself not only willing but ready to see. And honestly, there’s no better place than Tangier for me to do so as there’s a whole lot to spark your imagination with around here. Witnessing life unfolding itself is an endless implementation of my inspirational vision. Therefore, for an artist like me who essentially creates based on what I have internally perceived and discerned from the intangible, my lack of energy has surprisingly given birth to what felt like a brand new sense to explore. While it is not mastered, I can channel myself through it. It might be far from any type of acceptance or serenity regarding my health condition, but this acuity helps me cultivate a wider, more open, mind towards what I can’t comprehend. Having to stop, like I have today, isn’t as dispiriting as I used to pretend the whole affair would be not so long ago in order to cover the high current that is the fear of becoming obsolete and no longer blooming deep down inside. Maybe the shroud nature of my apprehensions had more to do with the fear that I could realize that I had never actually been as far as I would have liked to believe, nor given life to any significant pieces of light to drizzle my own wavering faith out of the doubtful shadows I feed within me. Is it the wide measure of solitude that I’ve been carrying for as long as I can remember that closes on me, or is it the brightness of the dreams I refused to shine through that is starting to take a toll on me? It’s hard to say… Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with any of it. Is it the liberating essence of acceptance that used to keep me away from understanding the unknown? Whatever it is, Tangier is showing me, through its ageless artisans, that every existence remains the product of clay that only needs water — hope — and commitment — active interaction — to be shaped and reshaped all over again. Stopping provides that as well. To shape, reshape, polish, paint or varnish is to rebuke the passivity that commitment despises.
“Beauty has no other origin than the singular wound, different in every case, hidden or visible, which each person bears within himself, which he preserves, and into which he withdraws when he would quit the world for a temporary but authentic solitude.” Jean Genet (1)
As for me, I’m still learning to navigate through it all. It can become depressing to live in some sort of a bubble, to feel trapped and isolated in a context you can’t truly escape from. You have to accept it. It’s the only key that will unlock your emotional and spiritual freedom. I’m more the thoughtful, strategic type, but I’m the all-in-finesse bulldozer type when it comes to finding my way out. I’ve never truly needed “keys” before, so it’s an awkward and paradoxical metaphor, but it’s nonetheless true. It’s a major adjustment for me. I don’t remember implying ever before that I was too tired to do anything or mentioning that I needed a moment to recharge before going head-on. It comes with its ups and downs obviously, as nobody likes to be sick or completely exhausted. I have to find different roads to get to my destinations, and while it might seem longer (a permanent feeling, in all honesty), it also gives me another perspective on my environment. I shared a little about it in some of my previous journal entries. It’s hard to see what’s really happening around me when I’m going 300 miles an hour. I can pay attention to pretty much nothing when I am focused and obsessed with my search to “find”. The truth is that I just can’t find anything more than my own preconceived sparks of what I convinced myself I was out looking for in the first place. The only element that will be found is my insatiable need for validation, the supposedly holy grail of my quest for inspirational grandeur remains unseen, no matter how close I might have come to discovering something that could have been so much more significant in the end. That’s the real casualty of being full-on all the time. At least, for me it was. And as difficult as it might be, I’m progressively coming to terms with this…
I used to stop when I knew I had to take a look, whereas now, I actively wait and find myself not only willing but ready to see. And honestly, there’s no better place than Tangier for me to do so as there’s a whole lot to spark your imagination with around here. Witnessing life unfolding itself is an endless implementation of my inspirational vision. Therefore, for an artist like me who essentially creates based on what I have internally perceived and discerned from the intangible, my lack of energy has surprisingly given birth to what felt like a brand new sense to explore. While it is not mastered, I can channel myself through it. It might be far from any type of acceptance or serenity regarding my health condition, but this acuity helps me cultivate a wider, more open, mind towards what I can’t comprehend. Having to stop, like I have today, isn’t as dispiriting as I used to pretend the whole affair would be not so long ago in order to cover the high current that is the fear of becoming obsolete and no longer blooming deep down inside. Maybe the shroud nature of my apprehensions had more to do with the fear that I could realize that I had never actually been as far as I would have liked to believe, nor given life to any significant pieces of light to drizzle my own wavering faith out of the doubtful shadows I feed within me. Is it the wide measure of solitude that I’ve been carrying for as long as I can remember that closes on me, or is it the brightness of the dreams I refused to shine through that is starting to take a toll on me? It’s hard to say… Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with any of it. Is it the liberating essence of acceptance that used to keep me away from understanding the unknown? Whatever it is, Tangier is showing me, through its ageless artisans, that every existence remains the product of clay that only needs water — hope — and commitment — active interaction — to be shaped and reshaped all over again. Stopping provides that as well. To shape, reshape, polish, paint or varnish is to rebuke the passivity that commitment despises.
“Beauty has no other origin than the singular wound, different in every case, hidden or visible, which each person bears within himself, which he preserves, and into which he withdraws when he would quit the world for a temporary but authentic solitude.” Jean Genet (1)
The streets of Tangier.
(1) The Selected Writings of Jean Genet [Jean Genet, Edmund White]. Ecco Press; First Edition (January 1, 1993).
