Every time I start to feel overwhelmed/discouraged I do the same thing. I break down my life, organize it into pretty little boxes, then move the boxes around like a rubik’s cube until I discover the flaw that is causing the “problem.” Then I construct a fool proof plan that, when executed, will solve the unsolvable problem of living a perfectly colour-coordinated life. It’s a pattern. I’m aware of the pattern and yet, just like my inability to leave a library with only one book, I find myself consistently leaning into the comfortable and stagnant chaos of work. Too many books to read, too many menial tasks to do (for absolutely no reason), and that painting that I bought four months ago that is still leaning against our wall begging for a nail and a hook.

I’m technically on vacation right now, but still I created a to-do list for myself for the week. Is that healthy? Is that productive? I don’t know if I can answer that, but I find myself closing all the other internet tabs (other than the one that I’m writing this in) to try and stop my mind from wandering. I’ve picked up the book that leans against my bag, to my right, at least five times in the last 30 minutes and flicked through the pages I’ve read with a feeling I’m not sure I can identify. I suppose it’s a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment. I then find myself browsing the yet unread pages with a wistful curiosity. What do they hold? Do these pages hold the secret to unlocking my mind and fixing the self that I’m tired of convincing myself is not broken.

And yet, I know my perception of the world is consistently changing. The lulls and full throttle accelerations are disorientating, and I’m succinctly aware that I can’t interpret my own experiences without bias. But then, how can anyone really trust their own judgements and feelings? How we interact with the world is inherently imperfect/flawed, and if we ignore our own feelings and emotions, how else can we steady the compass of our own opinions and beliefs? I can feel how strongly I’ve magnetized those around me with the power to disorient my own compass into a quiet bowed head of “I don’t knows” and “what do you thinks,” but how do you take the power back?

For far too long I’ve been preoccupied with what other’s think of me. I look at myself in the mirror far too often, and I stack one accomplishment on top of another  “healthy habit” as I try to create a persona that will please and that I can feel proud of. But I have taken far too many pictures that don’t look like me.

I know someone who once broke every individual cube off their rubik’s cube and glued them back in stagnant perfection. I’ve tried that too, and though as I pass others on the Vancouver seawall it appears to have worked, I still grind my teeth at night and a ball of tension has been built into my face. I wonder when it will grow big enough to be visible to the outside world.

But we’re all broken in some way aren’t we? We’re all constantly turning and twisting our rubik’s cubes, searching desperately for the pattern that will lead to happiness, belonging and success. Youtube has 1000’s of videos with the winning formula, and yet even once “solved” we must face the reality that perfection is not the same as happiness.

So, how do you throw away the rubik’s cube? How do you find your own sense of strength while still being immersed in chaos, uncertainty and rejection after rejection. How do you find your voice, while knowing that anything you can ever say is flawed, biased, and imperfectly drenched in the needs of the little child from your past?

I guess you don’t. Still, I patiently dig as I search for that little voice that will tell me that I am enough. Once found, I will hold onto that voice until it inflates and becomes a balloon that’s strong enough to lift me above the rubble of past failures and humiliations, and into a realm far away from the disordered rubik’s cube that begs to be solved.

I’m not sure what this image means exactly, but I do believe in my heart that this (at least) is true. No matter how hard we try (no matter how hard I try), you can’t solve a soul.