Full of Myself
Full of yourself aren’t you? Yes.
I am full of myself, I have no void to fill, I could live in a box. I know myself well and have no need of stuff.
I wear no mask but don’t try to define me. I am not Irish, woman, mother, wife, I am only myself, this is my life.
I fear, but only myself, I have no regret and no envy, no desire for anything money can buy me and because I am me, I am free, I can love, I am richer than any man and any rule or god.
Nothing and no one can make me feel more or can make me feel less, only me and I rule myself. I take my pain and I take my pleasure and I am not bowed by any weather.
In the battle for me I found me, all life, all purpose, I was not built for your man made circus, Like you I was born to rattle and rage, to howl at the moon, to roll with the waves. To live and be free, to laugh and to love.
But tell me, you, not full of yourself, what are you full of? Is it enough?
This week we were gifted a short break with the children in Dublin. My love for the place is no secret but this time I’ve come home feeling different.
To be fair it is not Dublin’s fault. All the things I ever loved are still there and will be like the history, the bleak, the troubled, the literary. A ghost in every step a memory.
Meanwhile countryside has no memory. In the country when someone dies everyone feels it, death is omnipresent. In the city someone dies, life goes on it seems as normal. But that is people not landscape and it’s the landscape marks the difference. The countryside barely knows we’re here now, it couldn’t care less when we go and won’t miss us, while a city, a man made place, never forgets. And I’ve always liked that, that essence.
But I digress. This post is about what happens when one adult frees herself...
‘Summer’ by Thomas Wilmer Dewing
As a one income family changes have been made this past four years and as a one woman revolution changes have been felt.
I understand now that so much of the good in life comes down to self, state of self, poverty or richness of self, blocked self, knowledge of, love of, self…
In Ireland we have this ‘insult’ it goes ‘You’re full of yourself.’
The current system depends on our lack of self, on our having this void that can never be filled, that keeps us future focused, needy, working, for what?
The more I go on the less invested I am in all things, the more I become myself, the less I need, the freer I am, the more I have to give.
As I said, we went to Dublin. I am rarely ever near shops, towns, or cities. Being all at once surrounded by these, marketing, the cost of everything, and the lie of it all, of what they are selling, lifestyle, status, veneer of success.
Well I just felt it was all very olde world, the ancient term suits it well. Like tv, when I watch now I find it crass, irritating and irrelevant. A relic.
Almost without noticing I’ve moved on. We are moving on, into a new world, of information, thinking, creating, of ideas and imagination, of self, where things are becoming a thing of the past and we are becoming ourselves at last.
And it’s not that I’ve given up pretty things, never! It’s just they have no power. And it’s not that I don’t love Dublin, never ever! I just found, for the first time, I was happy to be back, not just in my house, but here in the country that doesn’t care and has no memory and is what it is and will soon forget me.