There is a freedom in not having to communicate. To not be asked about your thoughts and opinions, and to not ask. To not continuously desire to be understood and liked. To not talk, and not be forced to hear. To see, touch, listen and experience without an intent or the need to act.
A freedom that’s becoming increasingly difficult to hold on to.
So I seek out a deserted beach on a weekday afternoon, for some minutes (or an hour if I am lucky), and sit with a glass of mint laban. No music, no internet, no chatting, no company. Feeling one with the stillness and achieving what meditation classes couldn’t – not fighting the thoughts that come to mind, but not thinking of anything deliberately, either.
Then I drive back to life as usual and go back to making polite conversations in person and irreverent ones online. I now know that I engage more often out of fear than out of interest. The fear of being left out, of not being recognised, of falling between the cracks.
I feed my soul with those stolen moments of freedom on Simaisma pier, trespassing on a private beach at The Pearl, behind construction dumps near the Wakrah seaside.
The back and forth tweets, the facebook commentaries, the instagramming of filtered reality, the inane smoking room chats…
How many of us really enjoy and benefit from the non-stop conversations and noise around us?
How do you pause (or stop)? How do you seek your freedom?