On the struggles of the mind

One thing I’ve always been interested in is the thread connecting all the dots of who I am as a person. Maybe for you it’s easy, but for me it’s far from it. If you were to ask me what my interests are I could probably come up with an answer fairly easily, but if you asked my why I’m interested in those things that is something I don’t have an answer to. And I find that endlessly fascinating.

Why is my mind the way it is? Why do I find these particular things interesting? Why do I struggle with other things? Those are all questions I obviously don’t have the answer to. But throughout my relatively short life I think I was always drawn towards these kind of questions. And I still am. And if I look closely I can see the thread running through all my interests: my passion for a certain type of minimalism, my appreciation for silence, my love of nature, my interest in meditation. I realise now that I’m probably looking for an answer to a particular question. What question, though, I don’t really know. And I’m not entirely sure it matters, honestly. My mind is finicky, fragile, and complex, and an endless source of pain and struggle. And that’s OK.

Where do you go from here?

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