Not sexually frustrated, mind you, but frustrated.
i recently read something that MG posted to fet… it jumped off the screen at me – actually – from the middle of a short writing.
He said… “Frustration is what begins where my knowledge ends.”
That’s as close to the nub of it that i can likely get. The way i’m wired, it is beyond unsettling to me to venture into those territories that defy logic or that exceed my understanding. The not knowing makes me feel rather insane.
He continued, “Learning is what happens when I leave my comfort zone.”
Ah, there you go. In my mind, it flows like an infinity pool… there is a liquidy and barely imperceptible spot between the comfort of what i know and the edge of a cliff … and there is fear when i get too close to that edge and yet i am fascinated by it. Somewhere twixt those two? That’s the agonizing spot where i stop breathing. i realize that i’m someplace where i do not have the answers and i should make a choice. Do i want to swim back to safety or head for that edge with wild abandon? Generally, i spend a lot of time skirting that edge… toying with notions about what it really is like over the slender lip of that pool.
When i do slip up against the edges, it is delicious. When i can let myself go? i learn so much about myself and other people but it is terrifying… the uncertainty of it all.
In my world, folks extol the virtue of intellectual curiosity. But this? For me this goes beyond the intellect. It’s the messy business of trusting myself… my judgment… and yes… trusting the people around me. It’s about feeling shit and not being able to solve problems. It’s about touching people that i cannot control and realizing that i’m not really enjoying my life to the fullest when i’m busy being so fucking careful.
It’s about realizing that i may never really know anything for certain… but being willing to push just a wee bit beyond the waters that i’ve already charted.