“To thine own self be true” We cling to that phrase a lot don’t we? It seems that it has been uttered by just about everyone (except perhaps the Amish?) when standing at a fork in the road faced with the path of least resistance and the path to their own ‘true self’.
It’s dream like to me. Then again, a lot of Shakespeare is. But what if this thing called “your true self” is blurry to you? It has been to me. When I was young I wanted to be a poet. I may have said that before but I’ll say it again. There is a poet within me who does not always know how to come out, or make her presence known. I speculate this is because somewhere along the road of life I became aware that poets, writers, artists aren’t mainstream to American life. Which is crazy, because where would we be if we didn’t have the arts? Trapped in a world like Hunger Games meets Gladiator, i assume. Anyways, this may be misguided. But hell, it’s my perspective, not yours. I came to believe that to be anything in life, you had to kind of ‘get with the program’ go to school, get a career, make money. Money, Money, Money (cue Abba). So here I am, making money and constantly thinking that there has to be more to life than this.
No one here is ungrateful. I’m grateful to have steady work and income and insurance. I realize that’s a LOT of people’s American Dream. But I have felt like I have been walking around living two lives, or more like living one life while carrying around my unborn twin. Does that make sense? I hope it does.
Anyways, this whole “to thine own self be true” sounds so great to me. But I feel like as of late all my conversations, internal and external, are trying to identify what that is. I should know it. I should. But I’ve been living a whole life ‘under the influence’ and fluttering like a butterfly between what people want for me to be, what they expect, what I don’t want, and what I think I want. And that right there, is a cauldron full of ‘double, double toil and trouble’ if you ask me.
So I’m taking some time to find out who I am, really. Because I’ve lost that girl somewhere along the way. I lose her repeatedly and I’m no good without her. That girl, that poet inside me, that’s the biggest muse in my world. So I have been writing more, to respect the muse. And letting things come out of me and taste the morning air. In some ways, I’m giving breathe to life, my own life.