After making clear my intention to bring down the curtain on proceedings some days ago, I’ve since been dipping in and out of random bouts of bleary-eyed contemplation. It has been an immensely gratifying journey and I’m excited to turn the page and see what the next chapter has to offer, and yet to wonder about what exactly is in store, brings about a sense of trepidation in the face of uncertainty.
As you could well imagine, I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching of late; when I think about all that has transpired over the past number of years since starting The Irish Introvert, I can’t help but to ask some probing questions of myself.
Was it worth it?
In short, yes. When I began, I didn’t have a clear intention in terms of direction, or what if anything I wanted to get out of the whole experience; I think I mentioned in the previous entry, that I had no idea as to what to expect. I certainly couldn’t have imagined the depths to which I would venture inward as a result of picking up the pen; often in solitary moments I will select an article at random and read back over it, and I find it doesn’t feel as though it was me who wrote it. In many cases, I would say that it wasn’t. Which is a stirring realisation, if I’m honest, and it makes me feel as though yes indeed, I need to keep writing. The whole process is bigger than me; it’s outside of me.
In that sense alone, on a completely selfish level, it was worth every minute. I rediscovered a part of myself that was lost; a once severed connection between soul and universe, which by way of some miraculous intervention, has been reestablished and strengthened. I made the right decision.
Would you change anything?
Certainly there have been some unsavoury moments that have transpired over the years, and some things that didn’t perhaps work out as I’d expected or hoped, much of which I’ve wrote about albeit perhaps not explicitly, but I wouldn’t say that I’d change anything. I’ve written in the past on more than one occasion the fact that every single experience good and bad brings with it profound opportunities for growth, and I will always look to extract the lesson from each experience and hope to improve going forward.
One thing I will say, is that I never imagined I would write so openly and honestly about certain aspects of my life, and that’s something that was- and still can be- downright terrifying. I’m sure that I could have gone about it differently; I could have been more subtle in some instances, and probably should have reined it in slightly in others, but as I mentioned in the previous post, it was first and foremost an online journal, and I did want to be honest in what I was writing about.
And I was honest, at the time of writing at least; feelings and circumstances change with time, but in terms of my limited conscious perception at any given moment, I wrote honestly about what I was feeling and thinking in that moment.
If you could go back and have a word?
A question that Tiny put to me in the past, and I think it’s a great question. I’ve been asking it of myself again over the last few days. If I could venture back to that cafe in the beautiful rural village of Sunchang, in the heart of the South Korean countryside of which I once called home, and have a word with myself before clicking publish, what would I say.
I would tell him first and foremost, that there will be times where you will doubt yourself, both in terms of your ability to create something of value and substance, and in terms of your own journey. I would say with cold hard certainty to act on your curiosity regardless; continue passionately along the path, keep in mind your reasons for starting the process of self-exploration, and be unwavering in your commitment to yourself.
Above all, enjoy the process.
Indeed it has been a wonderful period of nourishment. Although a lack of insight in my present state offers certain restrictions in terms of being able to reflect to any great depth, I do hope to be able to do so as time meanders on, so as to extract some piece of wisdom or guidance that will with any hope speak to my soul and perhaps, with a soft and endearing whisper, offer guidance in terms of what it is I need to do next. I can but wait in hope, clutching tightly to the pen of course, so that I can capture it upon the page if and when it does arise from the ether.