The Jungle of You
“How do you feel when you sing?”
That was the line by Mr. V in the Coda Apple TV+ series asked to his student whom had a hard time singing her true voice.
Reluctant. Unable to grasp the question yet being pushed to say something, she resorted to body language. And…. Mr. V gets it.
How often somebody asked us about how we felt about something? A lot of people asked about how does it perform or how much your business generated profit this year. But almost no one asked about how we feel. It is as if almost unthinkable to asked such question because, what is feeling anyway?
I don’t know. You don’t either, I bet. But it does feel good right? Imagine somebody asked you how does it felt to wear that shoes? You can answer that with poise. Because they aren’t asking about the shoes. They aren’t asking about the norm of how we should answer a question around here. They are asking about you.
We’ve been invisible now for sometime. Other than our achievement or beauty, we simply don’t exist in their playbook. Or — for matter of fact — ours. We simply don’t exist because well, we “can’t” be quantified. Hold. Fostered. Nothing about us is real. It is like a puff on the air in which cloud — which already rather hard to hold — looks much like a solid rock compared to our existance. And yet more than the hardest rock, we felt need to be validated as (rock) solid.
The question of existence has far been asked by our predecessors. It wasn’t just only us — modern man and woman — who suddenly wonder why we are here. Our predecessors asked the same thing, just a little bit deeper than we do “Who are we?” and they pondered throughout the day. Us? Well, we asked the question, “meh” it, and goes the day by like nothing happened. And that eats us away.
Not readily. Not until it become a heavy bag of sands that being postered upon our head “Oh, this heavy heart. What happened to me?” And you can’t find the reason why. The “silly” you were asking. The “smart” you muffled him. Ask. Muff. Ask. Muff. Ask. Muff. And it goes around like that for thousands times until he is making a silly face, just this time through your body.
He makes you sick. He makes you know that he is sick with your attitude of bossing around ignoring everyone’s need…. for answer. “What is life?” what is it anyway? You don’t care. I don’t care. But he cares. And he demands answer.
Perhaps the answer never found on short of breathing here and then there. Perhaps the answer found. Lies. Beneath. And God knows where. But until you found it for yourself, he would never satisfied. And it will kept goes wrong. Until it is being right-ed.
Welcome to the jungle of you.
