Musing of a wanderer

INFP who used to test as INTJ. 4w5. HSP/HSS. I’m a medical physician but am not defined by my profession. These musings were mostly generated during my medical training and beyond. __________________________________________________ “We seldom realise, for example, that our most private thoughts and emotions are not actually our own. For we think in terms of languages and images which we did not invent, but which were given to us by our society.” - Alan Watts

[musingofawanderer]

And just like that the

thickly sweet plum wine

was downed one

teardrop at a time

Thickly sweet relationship

stuck together like

two trapped flies

on a moldy bottle cap of a rancid jam jar

Difficult to touch

Difficult to digest

It has come to an end.

[musingofawanderer]

There’s a storm inside

my head and

it’s killing all the flowers.

[musingofawanderer]

We judge others by their actions, and we judge ourselves by our intentions. However there is only one truth: action. Intentions and judging are merely stories we create in order to try and understand the truth.

[musingofawanderer]

[teatimewithanintj]

INTJ decision-making process. Ni: So many options. I have to think about them all. Te: Just pick that one. Ni: About. Them. All. Te: That one is the best. Fi: Ok then. Maybe we’re missing on the best opportunity ever for not thinking about it long enough, but I don’t care. Se: Lol we could eat chocolate instead. Ni: Yeah and we could decide after. Fi: Chocolate! ^^ Te: … I hate you all. [Some time and chocolate later] Ni: So we’re picking that idea. Te: Obviously. Told you so.

[musingofawanderer]

The longing for understanding and acceptance

Wanting to be accepted presupposes a belief that others are right and you are wrong about how to live your life. It’s based on the notion that others know you better than you know yourself. This is obviously false.

The cure: Your knowledge about yourself is more true than anyone else’s opinion. Problem solved. 

[musingofawanderer]

Success is making those who believed in you look brilliant It never gets easier. You just get a heck of a lot stronger.

[musingofawanderer]

Saudade

Snow dances 

across the star-less sky and 

between the brownstones. 

It rides 

the same gentle wind that once 

touched my mother’s silky black hair. 

One orphan floats 

in front of me and lingers 

just long enough 

for my gloves to accept it, 

and then it disappears. 

But I am numb. 

Saudade. The longing of something precious that once was but is no longer. It’s a love that lunges forward in anticipation, but with nothing to meet it, so it can only keep reaching out further into emptiness. It’s the love of something that will never exist. 

[musingofawanderer]

[musingofawanderer]

“The greatest sins in human history were committed in the name of love”

[musingofawanderer]

Confidence

A lack of confidence is usually the result of a groundless notion that we’re somehow ‘important’ individuals, and therefore any kind of behavior that might potentially diminish that importance should automatically be avoided. This results in overthinking, doubting, self-loathing, and so on. 

The cure: zoom out and assess yourself from a cosmic perspective. To put it bluntly, you don’t exactly matter all that much. Relax. We’re all worms - as unimportant as it gets, in the cosmic sense. 

[musingofawanderer]

I was just reminded of this. Thank you. Reminder to self to be more grateful for the have's.

[musingofawanderer]

I find that the people who are most vocal about being “good” and doing the “right” thing are often the ones who discriminate against those who don’t support their ideologies. 

It’s because they believe their actions are justified by their “good” intentions. 

[musingofawanderer]

Metacognition to keep me in the present.

The following sentence is true. The preceding sentence is false.

[musingofawanderer]

Yes. I’m a bit quiet and I don’t share a lot of what’s going on in my mind. But it’s not that I’m afraid to. It’s just that I don’t often feel the need to. I don’t share everything that crosses my mind because I know better than to believe everything that crosses my mind. I need to take my time. I need time to observe, to assess, to understand, and yes even to correct my thoughts before I let them flow out into the world. I need time because I understand and respect the power of words. So no, I don’t speak often and I don’t speak loudly. But at least you know that when I do speak, it’s going to be something I feel I really understand, something that excites me, that I believe matters, and that sounds true to my soul – because to me, that’s what speaking is actually for. [Cristen Rodgers]

[musingofawanderer]

"What if I don’t want to talk about the weather?

What if, instead, I want to talk about the doubts that tiptoe their way up your spine, lodge between your vertebrae and soften your backbone? What if I want to ask about what keeps you up at night when the rest of the world has gone to sleep and about the recurring loop-dream you’ve been having and what you think it means? What if I want to know about the pink scar on your chin and where it comes from and why you try to hide it with your scarf?

What if I don’t care about what’s on TV or the Breaking Bad finale?

What if, instead, I care about the secret song that lives in your lungs that nobody hears but you? What if I ask you to breathe it to me and I promise to listen and I really do? What if I’m curious about the last time you lost, the last time you grieved and is there anything in this world you would die for? What if I’m interested in your proudest moment, your most haunting regret, the face you thought you’d remember but that now you forget?

What if I don’t want to sit in a noisy pub and guzzle beer until the night becomes a blurry haze?

What if, instead, I want to sit with you in a park, in the dark, swallowing mouthfuls of moon and sharing memories of our mothers? What if I want to take your hand in mine and touch the bones that live there, the knobby joints, the rough patches, the creases at the wrist? What if I want to run my fingers up and down your arm, tracing the route of your veins, revering the blood flow that keeps you alive? What if—for a whole minute, a whole hour—I want to look into your eyes without flinching, to tour the truest part of you, that place that cannot die?

What if I want to break open your sternum and glimpse inside your tattered heart and tell you it may be tattered, but it is your loveliest organ and there is a blood-red garden growing there?

What if I don’t want to chat on Facebook and skim through your photographic highlight-reel?

What if, instead, I want to see your broken parts and blemishes? What if I want to strip away the layers and stand with you, skin and souls laid bare, bony bits protruding, ugly spots exposed? What if I want to place my head on your belly and listen to your liver communing with your spleen and feel the gurgle of your gut and the inklings of your instinct? What if I want to ask you the question that scares you the most and swear I won’t run away when I hear your honest answer? What if I don’t run away?

What if I’m choking on the artifice of it all and feeling like we’re missing out because we’re scratching the surface with the questions underneath the questions, but the veneer is thick and we have barely made a mark? What if we’re all here, on this perfect planet, at this time, together, because we are treasures for each other to discover and rediscover, but what if we’re too distracted by our Twitter feeds to notice?

What if I don’t give a damn about where you studied or what your job is or how much money you make?

What if, instead, I give a damn about the first time you found love and the way your cells shifted to make room for that new feeling that was more force than feeling? What if I give a damn about the tattoo on your thigh and why you have it and when you got it and did it hurt and do you love it? What if I give a damn about what turns you on, what turns you off, how you like to be touched and how you pray? What if I give a damn about the things that amaze you, that fill you up, that move you to tears, that move you to move, that make you wonder, that make you glow and go slow and look up and see the stars and feel the stars inside you?

What if I give a damn about you, remarkable, fragile, dangerous you?

But what if I don’t want to talk about the weather? What then?

Think we could be friends?" 

VR

[musingofawanderer]

opposite sides of the same coin.