While scouring through the internet slightly heartbroken, recovering, reminiscing. I stumbled upon two articles that touched at my intrigue-strings, that got me fragmenting and sorting, thinking, about my ‘grand ideas’ and their definite place within them. During some troubling times, I aim my anger and confusion at my intuition (destroying my own castle from the inside), picking at it and querying as to why it did not provide me the insight I needed to see the coming of this troubling time. These articles provided me the answers to those queries. Should I say I found my answers to those queries in these articles.
I will put forward one of these articles now.
The first article weaved its way up to the point like a mountain biker does up a forested hillside:
You get what you create, not what you expect.
My understanding is that:
Creation is the husband to love. Creation is a production, a working on something that you have little to no attachment to once completed. A creation draws upon your current worldview, self-awareness and confidence and wraps it up in a package sent around the world, but returned back to you. Creation draws me out of my head and into the now. Creation allows me to open up my heart. Creation allows me to accept others. Without creation, I would not have realized that those people who are too scared to create are not worth having around. Creation has made me realize that my life would be unrewarded without creation. Having creation is to have virtue, having bravery, empathy and hope.
Expectation is simply the death of creation. Expectation sets a benchmark, a limitation to your own growth. Expectation leads to being unsatisfied, anxious and bitter. What I thought were expectations, were mostly simple projections my intuition produced for me, for my future. I lost the ability to determine these expectations from my projections. For me as an INFJ I find that my projections are predominantly emotionally based, dreaming in endless love, purity, harmony, and in colors ranging from all regions of the color wheel. I dream about the feeling of waking up next to my partner, I feel the warmth of her face. My expectations however put a face to that dream lady, my expectations attach cold logical possibility to them. Pegging and strangling the beauty of my dreams by producing a timeline or step-by-step method to achieving its expectation. This expectation blinds me into thinking there is something to work towards. While in life if things are meant to work they will and the more you expect them to, the harder you strive to have them in your grasp and the more you suffocate them and push them away. Expectation weighs me down, filling my pockets with lead, while I attempt to swim to a remote island getaway.
I chased after that face in my bed, of the person in that expectation. Not allowing for that moment in my projection to rather flower and form its beauty if it was intended.
You walk your own path, do not walk mine, it is filled with self-sacrifice.