The Art of Leisure and the New World
A personal account of the my experiences with the universe, work, and witnessing death and birth in the world. This is an unedited piece.
For the last two years of the pandemic, and even before, I have noticed something very important and interesting about myself. I often enter into states of mania, excessive joy, and hyperactivity, followed by weeks of depression and agitation. I considered this to be normal and something to be dealt with, after all, the work of school would never stop, and the river of problems our city faces never stops flowing. It wasn’t until late August of this year where I finally reached my breaking point. I have already started managing my time, prioritizing experiences that nourish the soul. However, it obviously wasn’t enough. I remember when I had a tarot card reading done by a trusted mentor and he said
“The universe is telling you to slow down, if you do not slow down and take breaks, the universe will make you do that. Either through a major event, or even sickness.”
The universe had enough with me and sentenced me to weeks of apathy, feelings of emptiness, stress, hopelessness. So many things influenced this breaking point: personal stresses and the mere existence of life under extreme inequality and racial capitalism is enough to knock anyone out when they think about it long enough. I am so blessed to have school friends, associates, family, my “chosen” family, and so many others care about me and help uplift me through that dark time that was not that long ago. Now, I am on a journey to master the art of leisure, to unlearn the ideals that we must all work ourselves to death in order to live and be considered human. To unlearn the immigrant values, created out of survival, that I must be exceptional, self-sacrificial, and willing to work my hands and body to the bone in order to prove my personhood; my value in the economy.
Right now, I hang in a delicate balance. I am well, I am in a state of bienestar. I am happy but I also take it slow. I cling on to the structure that my soul craved for like a starving child. I also wonder how long I will be able to balance myself. I thank the heavens for having people around me to help me keep my head up high, but how long will they be able to keep up? For everyone struggles with the wounds the world has cruelly inflicted upon them. Everyone is indoctrinated into the belief that those wounds are done out of progress and love. One day, we will all finally realize the power that we possess in shaping our futures, in practicing the art of leisure. As certain as the sun rising up from the horizon, the day where our neighbors will callous their hands as they build our new world will arrive and children laughing in joy and wonder as they run around with full bellies and a nourished mind, will arrive. What a sight to rejoice at! The old world is dying! How do I know? No one can keep up with carrying boulders upon their backs in silence for long, for the desire for liberation bursts at the seams by the day, it increases more and more for every person that lies in the street, cold and hungry, for every person that sells their soul to money, for every person that gets beat down by the boot of a corporate suit or a police baton.
The old world is dying! But I do not fret, for the new world, a world of safety and tear-jerking care, is born in its ashes, as I hang in a delicate balance.
