the self – Mehreen Javed

I read a wonderful piece of literature by Mark Manson around last week detailing the perils of defining our ‘passions’. It genuinely hit very close to home for me. I sometimes am caught in the politically correct storm of tirelessly justifying what I do, and, very frequently I am catching myself forcing myself to drown so I can ‘learn’ about myself just so I can answer the questions of other people..

Living in a family of Muslim background, I have worked my way into trying to do music. I never saw music as a problem, or, a struggle – as much as society plays it out to be a ‘struggle’. It can be, I guess, I can understand that. I can definitely see for some people why it can be a struggle to ask for something that they feel that their parents cannot understand. There are always struggles that we feel that we cannot speak to our parents about, or, things that we feel we are unsure how to phrase to the people that we love. But, never in my life have I seen fighting for music as a problem. It always seemed right for me to do – and whatever for me that is right is not a problem to ask for. I am in love with what I do, and merely even writing that sentence gives me pleasure that I am to say that with much confidence.

Life is a little too short to not try everything, and, to back away from things that you are too afraid to destroy. We spend moments, eons, fractions of minutes to calculate why something is not right, or, how our actions can be mislead or misinterpreted. And, that mere fear of our intentions being miscommunicated has held us all back from our desires and has dumped us in the pile of ‘could have been great’ – which (in my opinion) is worse than ‘failure’.

At some point of everyone’s lives, we have always been frightened of the height of the mountain before trying to taking on the trail. The purpose, we believe, is to get to the top – when really, that mentality always makes us miss the point completely.

Getting to the top is not conquering the mountain, in fact, the mountain belongs to no one.

It is not the mountain that needs to be conquered.

It is you.

I am small. A small fragment of your imagination. I come in all forms of shapes and colours to customise your mood and shape. I am a small wind. A friction of light. I am a small feeling that your heart has always desired.

I am so small, that sometimes I am forgotten. I am the circutboard behind your chandelier. Without Me there is no You. Without Me, You are paralyzed. You are disabled. You are useless because You have no Me to fall back on.

I am so meaningless to You, that, You can never remember why I serve Your purpose. I am so meaningless that ever second and drop of Your time and Your patience is counted towards my deed. That every favour and every single deed that You decree upon me is etched into the palm of my hand. Every bruise, every word, every fault and every breath I take – it is monitored. I am so meaningless to You, because, You can never be at fault. Of course it has to be me.

I am so small to You that even the deeds that I consider big, they could never match up to Yours. I am so small that my humbleness is a blind attempt at showing humility to you. I am so small to You that You cannot remember my existence anymore.

If I was so small to You, I ask myself “why was I so small to become ever close to You?”

Tag: the self

The trendy word ‘passion’.

“I am small.”