heads vs hearts

I once tried to trace where does intuition come from. Some think it’s a voice inside a head. I believe it’s a hidden speaker of our very own heart.

Can we go wrong listening to mind’s logic? Less likely. Can we go wrong listening to our heart? Highly probable. Why is it worth to choose greater risks rather than, as a tribute to sanity, follow things calculated? The question is old and continuously debated. In times of doubt or fear, no reasonable argument can calm me down. If that’s the case, can it solve the problem at all? I’m speaking about the universe of emotion.

Perceptions can change with a change of heart. It’s funny how misled we can be, by its love, by its sparks, by its sadness. Still, it seems that in life, we always strive for trust. If you say you trust yourself, people around will stand in awe. This is one of the most difficult, yet highly desirable peaks on the emotional climb, that allows to make decision, eliminates regret. But then, if we finally come to terms with our own psyche, we have to take in stride, heart will become our guide. And the 

head will remain just an armour for its resounding voice.

summer blues soundtrack

Summer is time of happiness, but there are times when joy meets nostalgia. When evenings are warm and skies painted with pink and purple, when a sense of loneliness is too difficult to repel, when sun shines through your hair and the world seems filtrated through its rays. Here are the tracks to play in those moments.

Pete Drake & His Talking Steel Guitar 'Forever'

Is Tropical 'What You Want'

Jimmy Carter and the Dallas Country Green 'Honey Dew'

Sean Nicholas Savage 'Propaganda'

The Dove & the Wolf 'The Words You Said'

Shlohmo 'Anywhere But Here'

Mazzy Star 'Common Burn'

James Taylor 'Hymn'

what is uncertainty?

The insatiable need to keep the order makes us question how long things can last. This is part of human nature – to doubt the beauty of the moment, to question things coming our way. Being uncertain can wreck your brain, but being certain can wreck your life.

Sometimes I wonder if coming to an end is genuinely the inevitable. To what extent this is us who decide things should cease to exist? Why everything has to be uncertain? Is it better than taking things for granted? Can we ever be sure of the world, made of millions small, yet independent particles, of another human beings. Everything can choose for itself, why would it do us a favour? Everything can be finite. This is the birthplace of uncertainty.

I always wanted to posess a dose of confidence. Not a type of confidence that comes to mind first,  to speak boldly, to think freely. A completely different one, where you feel you hold life in your hands and no matter how much you shake it, it’s the way you made it. Slowly, I’m starting to realise, there is no such thing. We are just hung up in the hollow space of luck, destiny and feeling. It can lead us very far, it can lead us astray. Nothing can be definite, nothing can last forever. Depending on our own idea of eternity, we function in a time frame that’s already been set. It has chapters just like books, it has beautiful quotes and nostalgic lines. We don’t know the exact words, we just remember contexts. This is how the life goes, this is how we live day by day.

Uncertainity is integral part of things we treasure most. What has been built can fall apart at any time. Can I keep it in place with my own two hands?

what if

 

If human emotion was straightforward by its nature, I probably wouldn’t even start writing.

If human emotion was complicated by its nature, I probably wouldn’t even realise there is something to write about.

If one day I think I understood someone’s feeling, I’d scold myself for this easy, superficial thinking.

If one day I think I cannot comprehend someone’s feeling, I’d scold myself for not trying hard enough.

These paradoxes are intrinsic of human emotion. Once I thought the more you learn and the longer you exist on this planet, experience can make up for all the insufficient knowledge. I believed one can reach the point when he’s lived so much, he can see through people around. But as much as we are all individual, we are also enigmatic in a very own way. This is not a mystery we keep on purpose. How we act and what we show of ourselves to others is filtrated through a net composed of where we come from, what we’re dreaming of, what’ve seen. Sometimes, I like to think one’s mystery is better than other’s, but I know I’m wrong. Not everyone in this world will have the motivation to read those around like fascinating books. We will pass each other by, taking mere notice.

This is called solitude. But then, one day, a natural instinct will evoke something so compelling, we won’t be able to ignore it anymore. Those few people in our lives that we want to truly understand. Yet, once they appear on the blurred horizon, we are capable of thoroughly embracing a human emotion. It takes time, it takes courage. Still, without it, we’re just lonesome drifters.

It seems there is no rule to the game. The starting point never changes. I do not want to live in a belief I can understand everyone, no matter how long I’m here. I definitely can’t. What I want to do is to wait and watch. I want those few people to emerge from the crowd and I will take them and treasure like the most precious objects. It is a long endeavour, but I hope it will let me resist the superficial. I also hope it will continue to demonstrate that human feelings are most often just sparks and spurs of the moment. Those no one can ever fully grasp.