Sometimes, when I’m struggling with something, having some doubts or feeling anxious, I go back and read things I wrote weeks, months, years before.
Yesterday I was having one of those days and decided to read one of the notebooks I usually pour my ideas and feelings into.
I found this:
From time to time I feel this dreadful insignificance, completely and totally without reason and without warning.
It’s almost as if everything suddenly became a big and unmotivated nothingness. Writing, reading, drawing, making. Being.
In these moments everything feels like a big weight to be carried for non ending deserts. I don’t feel like the one in control of myself, of my life, and feel no desire to do anything.
That’s why when I started feeling this way today I decided I would sit comfortably in my chair near the window and take the chance of being alone at home to put a jazz playlist to play loudly.
Bless it. Bless jazz and its ability to calm me down, to make me wander far from my mind.
Ah, existential crisis would be cured if we were as certainly uncertain as jazz.
After reading this I smiled, tucked myself into bed and listened to one of my jazz/swing playlists as if nothing else in the world mattered .
And well, as expected it calmed me down and even though the bad feelings didn’t go completely away, I was able to sleep easily and felt somewhat safe. So yeah, bless it.
So I’m leaving this here. To someone who might need to hear some jazz to calm their minds. (And to be honest, jazz is always good to hear)