It has now been just over a month on a new medication to jointly help with moods, anxieties and attention-span. I am at least certain that there has been more than just a placebo affect. Of course no medication is going to solve my problems, to be the ‘magic pill’ to help get my mind and life in order. When a life has become as chaotic as mine, though, radical means are essential.

What have I been hoping for? A relief from the sieve that is my mind, but also the new sieve into which to place my thoughts so that they can be later sorted. Of course, you might say along with me, ‘Well, why didn’t you just use wordpress as that sieve ages ago?” I think if I could take a year doing nothing else but emptying my thoughts onto pages on this site, I might find the release and relief from the weight of my own thoughts and cares. And yes, I believe the daily prompts and other challenges will prove therapeutic. But without the medication, I wouldn’t be able to sit still long enough to write as much. The next step is sitting still long enough to meditate.

But here are my dilemmas: I’m also trying to pursue excellence as a musician. One reason that I’ve resorted to medication is that my distractability had become so severe that I wasn’t even accomplishing my goals of practice. The fact that I’m sitting down to write more often is the result of partially giving up on the attempts to be sitting at a piano, but I have no choice but to hope this is temporary. I take my music seriously (as a dance instructor tells her students, we take our art seriously so we don’t have to take ourselves seriously — a fine line or a good remedy, and it may answer one of my later questions).

Here’s another question: the unexamined life was said to be not worth living. But why is it that it is only those who examine the worth of their lives who risk reaching the conclusion that their examined life is not worth living, and choose to end it all? Or at least think about that frequently? (And I hope I can be honest about this without someone rushing to the conclusion that this is a cry for help. I’ve cried for help elsewhere, and this is a much more constructive and hopeful alternative). I think the answer to being overly pensive is to have the pensieve. If one is to examine one’s own life, one must be able to dispense of ones thoughts afterwards so that they don’t weigh one down.

I have dreamed of being a Harry Potter, and of course eventually a Dumbledore. We’ve all got our scars. As a ginger, though, I would be happy to have Ron’s blend of courage and loyalty. Of such things is magic truly made.

So thank you to WordPress, a thanks to my like-ers and followers, to whom I have not had the attention span as of yet to respond adequately to their comments and support. One of my favourite texts on motivation says that it is an interpersonal phenomenon. The daily prompts help channel my motivation to write. But it is the responses and the journeys of others that construct my pensieve, and help me to be pensive about examined lives that are not my own.


5 thoughts on “Pensi(e)ve

  1. Hi, I definitely relate to writing as a form of mental sieve 🙂 In my case, I think writing actually forces me (in a good way) to really consider a particular thought, thus giving me more of a 360-degree-view of the thought instead of the usual process which goes something like: new thought pops up -> other thoughts and/ or worries in relation to it pops up -> original thought disappears under the swamp -> got frustrated at myself for not giving enough consideration OR got worried overmuch by one of the interfering thoughts. So yeah, writing helps hahaha

    On ‘why is it that it is only those who examine the worth of their lives who risk reaching the conclusion that their examined life is not worth living, and choose to end it all?’, hmm I think (and I’m no therapist so feel free to ignore me if you think I don’t make sense) that it is only those who examine the worth of their lives in an incomplete way come to this conclusion. For me, life is not just mine. It needs to be seen like a note in a score. It affects the notes coming before and after it, it is an irreplaceable element of the music, and (as little and insignificant it may seem) it affects the listeners in a profound manner. My life touches others’ everyday: my family, my friends, the bus driver I met this morning, the cashier I saw at the convenience store. In its small, seemingly meaningless way, my life changes theirs, for better or for worse. I might have made my brother’s day a bit worse when I glared at him for being late (and thus causing me to be late as well); I know my day (and a little bit of my perception on life) was made brighter by the nice bus driver who smiled and said ‘good morning’ when I boarded. I wouldn’t have these experiences if one of the lives that touched mine was not there. I wouldn’t have been the me of today. Conversely, I believe that those whose lives are touched by mine are changed as well. Maybe they would be a little bit less patient if they haven’t met me. Maybe they would be a little bit happier if they haven’t met me. But I believe I caused something. I am an important note, without which the piece of music will not be what it is. My life, and anybody’s life, considered in its small place in the bigger piece of the universe, is definitely worth something.

    yikes. didn’t realise I rambled on so long. anyway, keep at it 🙂 I love reading your writings


  2. Gordon King says:

    Hang around, keep trying, maybe someday it’ll all make sense. I know I always enjoy your company and your music, so that’s got to be worth it. Maybe you’re just so far ahead of the rest of us that it’s damn tough on you. Anyhow thanks for spending a bit of time in our lives; it’s been precious. g


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