Invisible

Somehow it’s the invisible things that hold the most weight:  fear, love, shame, ego, regret. The things that are coming, the things that are gone, and the things that never were. The stuff that can be felt but not touched. Whether it’s the wings you feel when you’re on purpose or the cage you feel when you’re not. The invisible things have the most power over us. And I’m confused.

In a world obsessed with data, nothing seems to exist if it can’t be measured. In data we trust: the number of likes, clicks, conversions, doll hairs, everything is trackable. Except those invisible little buggers.

I’m at a loss, these things that are all too real and not real at all, I don’t know how to navigate them. Can I trust them? I want data.Deep down I know that these invisible things are more reliable guides then numbers and trends. But they feel like the childhood best friend who has become a distant facebook acquaintance. Who are you? What do I do with you? Are you a figment of my imagination?

The whole appeal of data is that things that can be measured can be manipulated, the illusion of control in the chaos. We all know the world is changing so rapidly that data and its value has a quickening expiry date. It’s a rat race. What if it’s the same with the invisible? I’m trying to figure out the formula for my happiness, when what makes me happy today will be different tomorrow. I don’t want to waste my energy or feed myself formula, so back to square one.

I’d love to make meaning out of this mess I call life but maybe it is best to leave some things to the imagination and keep a bit of mystery? Maybe we don’t have a choice.

Keep it interesting.

Your Friend,

Buzzy