I wouldn’t know how to explain it, particularly now. I know my parents care about me; they always care about me very much. But I couldn’t tell where this discontentment came from. From the very early age on, I was taught to be very rigid, to be contained in the boxes so that I’d be accepted and loved. But there was always so much wild energy moving through me. It was very difficult for me to conform. I’ve never felt I fit in, not at all. The word “I” was always externally located, alienated by identities that are constructed upon what people think of “me”. Maybe by doing all the “right” things, by fitting into the boxes, I’d be worthy of love. But it just felt false. I don’t know. It is difficult to know. It’s like going round in circles, how could you advance in circles?
It therefore created a spring — as soon as it got the taste of freedom, it bounced off right away, to the farthest end possible. This is perhaps the origin of all those adventures. But now that I’ve been outside of the box for so long, I wonder, what if I drop myself back into the box? Putting myself in a very confined space like a kitchen, working as a chef, can I still find my soul? Can the spirit still find its own space? With all kinds of stimulus here, the senses are numbed. Can you still find the flow and hear the silence, with all the noisiness around? Can you still know yourself when you descend into this madness and chaos? To some extent, it is fulfilling, as it allows you to empathise with people. It is as if something that wants to move this framework of “me-ness” to here for this purpose. Why not let it pick you up, carry you somewhere, put you there and do this? That is way more intelligent. I don’t know what I’m doing; I don’t know why I’m doing it; but it feels meaningful. It is not about you anymore, but something bigger than you.
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