 We are constantly ebbing into and flowing out of various emotional states. Our emotions may be shapeless entities, but they are powerful. They have the ability to consume us, chew us, and spit us leaving no crumbs behind. What's beautiful and haunting is how we are separated yet so intertwined with our emotions. You can't touch your feelings, you can't see them (you can imagine them, but you don't really know what they look like), and you sure as hell can't hear them (i.e. what would they sound like if they didn't sound like your voice?). In other words, our existence is at the whim of something that is paradoxically nothing, at least materialistically.
As of late, I've been sipping from the gauntlet of melancholic optimism; two emotional states with contrasting tastes. This got me thinking about the fragility of feelings, and how I'm able to effortlessly melt in between emotional states. When you do not have control over your feelings, reality becomes kaleidoscopic, distorted, and fragmented. Living inside of your head is not the same thing as living; you are operating from an insular space, a vacuum chamber made of your own misconceptions and projections. All of us are vacuum chambers looking at each other with distorted lens tinted by our traumas and personal histories. There is no singular, right way of being, rather each and every one of us are expressions of what could be - but that is a discussion for another time. What inspired me to paint The Carousel of Emotions is this idea that throughout our lives we choose which emotion to ride. Existence is like a carousel, spinning in circles until we hop on. The question expressed in this painting is what will you choose? Feelings are choices. It has taken me a lot of time to separate myself from my emotions, especially as someone who struggles with generalized anxiety. For a very long time, feelings felt like blockages that forbade me from living. They anchored me, and felt very heavy on my shoulders. The greatest lesson I've learned is that I am not my feelings. Tying my sense of self to something that is constantly changing doesn't make sense. Like the carousel, if I hold on forever, I'll just be going in circles but not really going anywhere. What I am is something that can't be expressed through my emotions; I am not my fear, I am not my sadness, I am not my melancholy, I am not my happiness. I am something far greater than I will ever understand. This painting is meant to be overwhelming with color. It's meant to make you look in all directions, and feel all sorts of feelings. You can choose to ride the carousel, or you can walk away, but perhaps the most powerful thing you can do is stare at it. Acknowledgment without reactivity, without jumping, without rushing into it. Feel your feelings, don't become them.
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As someone who feels things very deeply, I used to think that my heavy emotions should be treated like a disease. If anything, my propensity to internalize and absorb such intense thoughts made a lot of people uncomfortable in my life, which as a result made me feel like there was something terribly wrong with me. It's not something that I can necessarily control - I've tried to "loosen up" and "chill out" but for some reason I could never seem to comfortably settle into that advice. I've had to accept that this is my way of being, and that perhaps, I am not someone who finds happiness in "loosening up." I enjoy tightly strangling and suffocating the intricacies of life; this might sound horrific, but I think I find joy in perplexing and complicated things. I don't just want a pleasurable life, I want a life that is fully lived.
Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking challenged everything that I thought about myself. Simply put, introverts are people who do not like to be overstimulated. When we think of introverts, we might make a lot of assumptions, but at the heart of it, they're just a group of people who feel energized by solitude and silence. That doesn't mean they can't handle social situations or stimulation, it just means that their energy gets depleted by too much of it and at some point, they need to retreat because of it. Instead of their voice, the volume of their minds is what echoes the loudest. There is a vivid internal landscape inside the mind of an introvert. Why should we as introverts, as people who thrive on inward exploration, condemn ourselves for not being like our extroverted counterparts? Imagine a world where we cultivate deep thought, introspection, and thoughtfulness in those who innately gravitate towards it. We would have fewer people masking their true selves, and more people contributing to the world in ways that are natural to them and their interests. I have a profound aversion to thoughtlessly putting myself out there just to alleviate uncomfortable silences. Likewise, I don't feel compelled to be the center of attention, especially at the cost of being my authentic self. It isn't in my nature to want to take up space; instead of taking up space, I'd like to think I'm someone who creates it. There is power in silence, especially in a world that is increasingly becoming louder and louder. The shouting match, as we have seen, isn't working. It's all a form of entertainment, a facade that suppresses mindful deliberation and decision-making. We need quiet people to buffer all this nonsensical noise. You can say something, and not really be saying anything at all. How unfortunate. Quotes that deeply resonated with me:
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"You can only be afraid of what you think you know.”
― J. Krishnamurti
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