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TWENTYSOMETHING by Ishi Dinim
On a precipice, howling winds of change swirl around us, so strong that sheet metal siding is ripped off the building. Pressures are being heaped upon the planet and we are feeling it spread throughout each system. There is a coming apart. A global caffeinated adrenal panic attack, surging to a crash, all symptoms of an accelerated out of control society. Pandemic exhaustion: to the point of needing to talk oneself through the most simplistic routines. Am I crazy if I talk to myself? I keep wanting to be like I was, but I’m not him anymore. There is a thick film around me, almost a bubble, a sense of profound disconnection. I live in a separate reality from what I would consider “normal life”; my existence has become that of a full-time fantasy maker. I’m in the guts, making the machine go. How can I tell if I’ve sold out or not? As my rational mind slips into dense fatigue, my compass seems distorted. I give it a shake. Where am I going to again? And why?
Maybe I can conjure up some cliché saying like “No great purpose is achieved without sacrifice,” to give me motivation to stay this course. Who made that up? Did I? Is it even true? I’m taking their resources to build my own something, right? The dark fear in my gut is that I will not commit to making it happen. Will I ever live my dreams? Is it even what I want now, now that my dreams have become replays of my daily repetitions? So this is what they mean when they say, “Oh yeah, living the dream.”
I often feel like I’m hitting a breaking point in my life. Then, I reflect on external events to give me a contrast or reference point to compare with. The stresses in my world are miniscule when standing beside the tragedies of others. Yet, I’m so wrapped up in my own story that there isn’t a moment to really attempt to fix things for anyone else. Maybe on some level, even though we are smugly self-sufficient and secure with our place in the world, we acknowledge in a deepest place that we are not. There is a fear that it will happen to us. I can’t go trade my fresh tomatoes for your beans because I’m living an existence separate from actually sustaining my day-to-day needs. I rely on someone else somewhere else to make sure I can go to the store to survive. What if it all falls apart? I could trade you a camera for a laptop or something like that but no one can eat DVDs. I spend all my time working, making films and television shows, so that I can hibernate and watch a film or show on my weekend that somebody else made. This has become survival. Dependence; trust that somehow there will be food at the grocery store and a new show to watch. I hope they’ll watch mine.
Hope is all that remains. It will all work out. Someone out there in the world will want to keep sending food for me, right?
“Always remember you’re unique.
Just like everyone else.” – Anon
“A human being is a part of the whole, called by us, “Universe,” a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest – a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. Nobody is able to achieve this completely, but the striving for such achievement is in itself a part of the liberation and a foundation for inner security.” – Albert Einstein
Ishi graduated from Emily Carr Institute of Art and Design in 2001, with a BFA major in photography. He makes films, collects cacti, and ponders many things. Currently he is trying to figure out what to do with the rest his life. contactishi@yahoo.ca waiting to hear echoes back.
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