Tribulations by an old hag

Cornelis Bisschop - Old Woman Sleeping

These days I feel old. I feel ancient. People say wisdom comes with age. I am in desperate need of that age-dependent wisdom. Instead of getting wiser and smarter, today I find myself like a child, confused, puzzled, without any idea what I am doing and where I am going.

I was listening to someone rich and famous these days. He was an arrogant swindler who accumulated money in a sketchy way; a guy, who did not produce anything but has millions of dollars. And yet, he said something that I have realized a decade ago – adults do not know what they are doing. When you are a child, you firmly believe that all adults know what they are doing, why they are doing it, and where they are going. In fact, they do not. I do not know where I am going. I constantly struggle and constantly change my mind. I am like a particle that randomly changes its direction. There is no final destination, no final target in my mind. Random thoughts flood my brain and sway me from one extreme to another.

On a daily basis, I sway from fear to indifference. There is not a second of elation or excitement. If I force myself to plan my life ahead, the only plan is to avoid possible disasters that hammer at my brain. These are the disasters that haunt us all – the poor health ahead, the lack of money, the loneliness, the sense of not belonging, the belief that at end of our life we will regret everything … There are never positive thoughts of achieving, creating, establishing something new and useful.

This introspective state of criticism installs itself only at times when I take a few days off of work. Otherwise, work keeps me utterly busy with excruciatingly stupid, silly, and useless activities. At the end of the workday, I am an empty bag, a drab worn-out sack that contains nothing. The only redeeming quality of my job is that it is so time-demanding that I do not have a minute to ponder the fact that I am going nowhere, that I have no purpose, that I do not know what I am doing on the greater scale of life. Otherwise, I am German-level organized and disciplined: I account for every minute of mine, I work on weekends, I maximize every second of my home life. When I do not work for the paycheck, I have the food list in my mind when I do the weekly pilgrimage to the supermarket, I have my little tasks clicking in my mind in a sequential order: (1) clean the rug, (2) take the mop, (3) cut the veggies, (4) start the pot for the soup, etc. I work like the Energizer Bunny on batteries that never give up.

Only in the evenings, for one or two hours, I allow my mind to drift away from the tracks of work and obligations. This is usually the time when I walk and listen to a few podcasts and interviews. I listen to people ranting about their passions and strives, about their accomplishments, life lessons and life hacks. I also read a little before closing my eyes with the hope for oblivion and sleep.

Sometimes it is a book that reboots my mind and then I realize how deprived I am. Not of food, warmth, or company. I am deprived of emotions and big ideas. I am deprived of meaning. I desperately look at others to fill in the void, without realizing that the only one to fill in the void is me.

The book that rebooted my brain out of the vicious work-home-work cycle, and prodded me write this post was Chocolat by Joanne Harris. I got the book last week, during one of my regular raids in the local library. In the library, I never pick books I have previously decided to look for. I usually float by the shelves, throw a glance at the back cover, and take a second or two to decide on whether the book is worth my time or not.

It was only when I came home and opened the book, that I realized that I have seen the movie based on the published work. 

The book is about a wanderer and her daughter, about the time when they finally have stopped their world journey and are in a small French village. The mother and child have opened a place that offers chocolate in all its seductive shapes and forms. Along with the chocolate comes love, generosity and search for meaning. It is a book about a strong woman, who like all of us, is in search.

And this is a comforting thought: life is a constant search, whether we like it or not. There is no finite state of contentment and achievement. A static state like this would be the kiss of death. Till our last moment we need to search. The fact that I do not know where I am going and what I am doing might be a blessing in disguise.

So, this book of chocolate seduction, colors, scents, geraniums, generosity, love, nourishing food, imagination, folklore, superstition, everyday life and death made me realize that the search for meaning is the meaning of life.

I am still hungrily devouring page here and there. After I finish the first reading of Chocolat, I will read it again; the second time I will slowly take in each word and internalize it.