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Inertia - Nº126
Go where the mind wanders
Some people think I question things too much, that I entertain outlandish theories too readily. Maybe that’s the curse of endless curiosity: it doesn’t have bounds. But I’ve always thought that entertaining more ideas than you’ll end up believing is better than entertaining so few that you don’t realize you have a say in what you believe.
Something I love about writing is the gentle sense of liberation I feel from it. Unadulterated self-expression. No one can stop me from saying what I think, except myself. And you decide if you want to listen or not. My words stand alone on this screen, and we both get to extrapolate stories and visions from them in our own unique way.
My ideas get to behave as an independent entity. For you, it is a taste of what I think before you know a thing about who I really am. I started writing three years ago because one thing about the human condition is we are so malleable, which can be beautiful. A day can start out so distressing, with us feeling as if we lost our grip on our well-being or emotional state. Easily bothered. More irritable than usual. But all it can take is a matter of more space: time for yourself, surrendering to your emotions, a willingness to write it all out, for you to pick yourself back up and turn things around.
My mind flirts with the thought of staying in Europe, visiting old towns or cities, embracing the way their architecture and language keep you grounded. Closer to nature. Rooftop areas can be sparse, with patios often firmly bolted on the street. At eye level with all the most beautiful things that you could gaze at. Much of this speaks of the culture itself. The people are open and level with you. Their reverence for being direct is unmistakable. They don’t go out of their way to emphasise status or class. They sit on the same wooden chairs and live, watch, notice, laugh, and savour like few of us in the world do anymore.
Slowing down seems like a luxury these days. Especially where I’m from. Slow, wandering lifestyles are looked at as something for the upper class, but it doesn’t seem like anyone enjoys themselves here. That’s why so many of us travel to Europe, right? To be surrounded by people who don’t wait. People who talk to you, who bond closely with life. Who don’t seem overly indulgent, but have mastered the balance between carpe diem and progressing at speed.
Growing up, I felt I never really fit into any group or environment. Not in a pitying “outcast” sense, but in that I was going through an explorative phase for quite a while, at the expense of shaving down my unique edges and making my personality seem more familiar to everyone else. Trying to make fitting in easier. Two things changed that: noticing how easy it is for new people to warm to me, and being more conscious when I travelled. I realised I fit into plenty of places—but it’s up to me to find them.
Before I started writing, I spent just under a month in Spain, mostly alone. I had never been to where I was staying at the time, nor travelled alone in any capacity. It should’ve been nerve-wracking, yet I didn’t want to leave. Living amongst the natives was easy. I enjoyed the modest town’s gentle buzz lulling me into the present. People moving slowly, and thoughtfully, toying with a sense of life. It’s amazing what we can feel when we let go of the need for control. Letting yourself feel what you feel and be where you want to be, knowing that bad times will pass and any emotions that come with it might just tell you why they’re here—if you listen to them.
The wandering mind releases tension well. Free with powerful healing vibrations that can ricochet through your body. There’s this irony I like to remember which is that what we do to escape suffering can ultimately be what gives it. But what frees you is to no longer resist your fears. To have more fluidity instead of being tied to fixed expectations of who or what we should be. From then, finally, we can let our minds wander and unapologetically do everything we want to do.