Out of Touch


I sat up in bed this morning, looked at myself in the mirror, and asked myself a simple question. What are you losing sight of? I’ve been significantly distracted for some time now.

The truth is, by most standards, I’ve been sad most of my life. It’s a natural disposition. Always aware of what is not. Any humour spawned by such a life must be dark by nature. So I hate that people can relate to my ramblings. I hate when anyone else can relate to my life experiences, because for the most part, it was not pleasant, and so I’m painfully aware of how unpleasant it must have been for them as well. As comforting as it may be for us to find those that share our afflictions, it’s sad that there is so much affliction to share.

Contemplating this leaves me distracted yet again. The challenge of my life has mostly been to determine when that threshold is breached when giving others the benefit of the doubt translates into ignorance as opposed to kindness or understanding. Not that it matters. Considering whether I appear as kind or ignorant erodes the sincerity of the act of giving and in turn distracts me from the purpose of that interaction.
A distraction a day seems to keep the devil by my side. Between the devil and my demons, much of the present moment is lost. Quiet contemplation is not quiet anymore. It’s rowdy and cluttered. The more we connect, the greater the noise and the clutter. The less we connect, the greater the void and the emptiness. Striking a balance is impossible unless you indulge sufficiently in the distractions to ignore the tipping of the scale in either direction.

I need to renew my subscription to life. Confliction and ambivalence are cold companions, but in the absence of more, we should not spurn the companionship we have. Damn, that sounds so complacent. And the stirring of the spirit starts again, in search of the answers that every moment seems to cloud. If the questions are endless, so too must be the search for answers. Contentment and peace therefore must lie somewhere between seeking the truth, and knowing which truths are not worth seeking.


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