As I get closer and closer to leaving home, I find myself going more and more inside myself. I had not expected these last weeks at home to be spent in such a quiet way, immersed in hazy daydreams about the next three or four years (that, for now, is the duration of my life: further down the road I will be another, a stranger in a strange land), and in the abstract overlapping worlds if mathematics and philosophy. The past seems to be dissolving, leaving just a thin layer of dust and salt on my skin. I have not built any self-narrative - the story we form by stringing select memories into a coherent whole, thereby picturing our life as a story with the self as the protagonist, whose features are defined precisely by those of the selected memories - of the past three years. It somehow seems unimportant: they flew by in disconnected strands and alternating periods of throwing myself into the world and receding into my own head. The only visible result of high school is precisely launching me into the future via getting into Oxford, which is perhaps the reason why that is all I am now able to focus on. I marvel at how perfect the surgery separating me from my recent past has been: I feel white and scrubbed and fresh and clean, all ready to start anew.
In my mind, I'm inside a plane, looking out the window as it goes higher and higher, with all the figures becoming smaller and smaller, becoming mere dots, and then nothing.
In a similar note to my last post, some thoughts on another delightful animation film about a young woman finding her strengths and growing up in a vibrant fantasy setting - Pixar's Brave.
I took my sister and my cousins to watch it at the cinema (we have a kind of tradition of watching Pixar films together), and it was lovely getting to share with them the interesting and motivating ideas which this film explores. It was also a chance to spend some time talking, and it makes me feel very proud and happy to see them grow into their own people, gaining their independence, exploring new aspects of the world, and shaping up their personality.
Brave's themes made it perfect to watch together. Like most/all Pixar films, it is not really aimed at children: the theme of growing up and finding your personal space and freedom while preserving your family relationships, and the conflicts and misunderstandings that inevitably occur in that process, become relatable and relevant only in your teens. Besides, the delightful cultural references to the Middle Ages and to Scotland (the actors' accents are so endearing and the scenery is so beautiful it really made me want to visit!) would, I suspect, go over most kids' heads. On the other hand, these mature aspects benefit from being explored in such gorgeous, lively animation and with a child-like sense of wonder and heightened action and emotion.
I loved the development of the mother-daughter relationship at the core of the story, which is very much true to real life. The frustrating bickering mother-daughter arguments lead in a subtle, progressive way to a relationship of equals who are willing to compromise and seek mutual understanding on a basis of love. Both Merida and the Queen change and grow, while the King and the Princes complete this family dynamic. Supporting characters are mostly there for colour and cultural background, excelling in this purpose. I never cease to be amazed at how animators manage to capture so much of what being human looks like/is (are they the same thing?).
In the end - after laughing, (almost) crying, and being on the edge of your seat - you are left with an uplifting and sincere message: we are free to grow and develop as individuals, but it takes bravery and support to do so. We should take pleasure from both these elements, for determination and love are all that can lead us to become more complete as human beings.
I turned eighteen yesterday and it was such a beautiful day, one of those precious ones when life feels like the most exquisite art - and I am both an overjoyed participant and a mesmerised spectator. Looking around - to the people who fill my days, to my memories, to my dreams and expectations -, I perceive with clarity how everything in life keeps morphing into new shapes, and presenting me with new challenges.
I am the luckiest I could be.
I was gently placed in the world by a loving family - and the world has been kind to me. I have been given so many chances to learn and to grow up, and I have taken them (much thanks to the encouragement and strength of the people who surround me). I have somehow made friends - extraordinary ones -everywhere, and from each I have learnt the art and joy of living, and with all I have shared my own small discoveries. Perhaps best of all, there is still so much more to take from the world and to give to others.
I would like to say I am a travelling woman, moving through life with my head held high in sort of golden halo of confidence and trust in the world and in my own strength to change it (and myself, a part of it), but I don't think I am. I am a girl, and - just like Alice in her Wonderland - I can be tiny, a child almost, so lonely and powerless, and I can also grow big, almost to the dimension of a grown-up woman (but not quite), with a bright gleam of independence in each gesture.
It is generally a mystery to me how the reduction happens (doesn't it seem kind of unnatural?), and it can leave me sick, even physically, as if my body and mind - my whole being, that artificial division should be avoided - had become those of a stranger. I seem to forget everything and wander through a cloud of fear. Then I find some air and force myself to react and evade my own temporary smallness. It is, all in all, a learning experience: smallness makes me question my life principles, and I emerge with new strength. These reductions make me grow more afterwards.
The fact is that growing up is not a linear process: you grow both down and up, sometimes very fast and other times so slowly you fall asleep from self-boredom. It is painful and lonely and there in no one to do it for you. There's no highway to sunny maturity. In fact, there is probably no sunny maturity where we can head to. Growth just goes on - to nowhere. I hope that the process leads to global improvement, but there is no objective standard on 'human quality', so one can never know for sure; however, I believe that improvement is becoming ever more at home in the world, sharing in its rational structure., emphasising more with other people.
That is the path I try to follow. It warms my heart when I can share the journey with someone else, and I sometimes even feel proud of my own choices (though I know pride is just an inner reward for the self-control, and that cheapens its glow).
Today, I feel like a travelling woman: my life lately has been full of discoveries and decisions (of inner dimension). I have definitely been moving on.I am glad I didn't sacrifice my plan in moments of terror, for it came back to me before I lost it, even though life made me tired, told me lies, made me fall.
The plan? To learn, that is, to get a clearer picture of the world (by picture, I mean something including all senses and 'pure reason'). In other words, grander still: to eliminate the distance between myself and the world.
I feel exhilarated because I have been learning a lot (not only academically), thus living the plan to a good extent. In fact, I feel like everything is going faster: I gain momentum as I live. And I am grateful for all the human warmth I get, but I yearn for more. In fact, after spending months craving and enjoying solitude, I now feel a pit-less thirst for contact, for communication, for touch. I know I am vulnerable to sweet, caffeinated illusions, to falling in love with potential; but I feel awake, and my vision is a loud siren song pulling me on to life.
