Unveiling the enigma within
Deep within the recesses of my being exists a mysterious and enigmatic part that surpasses my conscious comprehension. It's a force that exerts an undeniable influence over my thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, leaving an enduring mark on my psyche. Despite its profound impact, its origins are murky and veiled in the obscurity of early childhood or traumatic events that remain hidden from my conscious mind.
But I've discovered a tool to unravel this enigma and awaken my creativity: writing. The power of writing never fails to astonish me. It sets my imagination ablaze and beckons me on a voyage of self-exploration that's both riveting and enlightening.
Through the act of writing, I gain access to the deepest corners of my mind and heart, where my truest passions, fears, and motivations reside. Writing allows me to express myself in ways that I cannot do through spoken words, giving me a chance to examine the thoughts and emotions that I may have kept out of sight for far too long.
Introspection allows me to integrate these parts of me into my conscious self, leading me closer to a better understanding of who I truly am. In this journey of self-discovery, I am able to embrace my whole being, acknowledging the shadows that lurk within me and the light that illuminates my path. This process of self-integration is a vital step toward achieving inner peace and wholeness, transcending the limitations of the individual self, and attaining a sense of unity.
Moreover, writing is a means of imprinting my mark on the world, a legacy that reflects the essence of my being. It is a way of asserting my existence and affirming my identity. Thus, for me, writing is not merely an act of self-expression, but an act of self-realization, a pilgrimage of my soul on the path to its ultimate destination.
"The Unbearable Lightness of Being"
Kundera's philosophy of remembering as the opposite of forgetting has deeply impacted my life. In his book, "The Unbearable Lightness of Being," Kundera explores the idea of eternal recurrence, which suggests that events in life will repeat themselves indefinitely. This concept offers a sense of coherence and continuity to our existence.
As I prepare to return to Serbia after a long absence, I find myself pondering Kundera's philosophy. I made my first trip back to my homeland in 2004 after waiting for sixteen years, and now, nineteen years later, I am returning to celebrate the 50th anniversary of my high school completion. Despite the passage of time and changes in circumstances, I believe that certain things will remain constant.
My upcoming journey to Serbia feels like a chapter from a novel, where I will revisit old places and reconnect with old friends while discovering new aspects of my homeland. Through this process, I hope to gain a deeper understanding of myself and my roots and reaffirm the importance of memory and connection to my past.
As Kundera once said, "The struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting" (1), I aim to pay homage to my past and ensure that it remains an essential part of my present and future. Remembering where we come from is essential to understanding who we are and who we want to become.
A Journey back in time
And now, let’s go back in time to the year 2004 when I embarked on my first return to Serbia. As I made my way back to my old country a mixture of emotions overtook me: excitement and fear. My heart was filled with anticipation as I longed to reunite with family and friends and revisit the places that had shaped the core of my identity. Yet, at the same time, an overwhelming sense of trepidation gripped me.
This was a land that had been ravaged by the trauma of the break-up of Yugoslavia, civil wars, and bombings. Profound societal changes had left their mark, and the media portrayed the country as being run by organized criminals who had recently assassinated the Prime Minister, a symbol of hope for a brighter future. The ambiance toward America was equally ambiguous.
Arrival
As soon as my feet touched the ground at the airport, a sense of apprehension and mistrust settled over me like a dark cloud. It had been sixteen long years since I had last set foot in Belgrade, the city of my youth. Sixteen years of waiting, longing, and wondering had ended abruptly, but the anticipation I had once felt had been replaced with a heavy dose of suspicion.
My state of mind was unusual as if filled with air that was thick and foreboding. As if danger lurked around every corner. Mistrust was my constant companion, a shadowy figure that crept alongside me, almost involuntarily making its way as a protection tool guarding me against the threats that I couldn't see or intuit.
But amidst all the fear and uncertainty, there was a certain thrill to the chase. The adrenaline that coursed through my veins was like a drug, and the feeling of being on high alert was almost addictive. It was like I was living in a novel, a dark and dramatic tale of mistrust and survival.
And so, I continued to walk, my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes darting back and forth. Mistrust was my shield, my sword, and my compass, guiding me toward safety.
The familiar sights, sounds, and smells that had once filled me with joy and comfort now seemed unfamiliar and threatening. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched and that I was an outsider in my own homeland.
Lost in a dreamlike reality
As I lay in front of you the depths of my subjective reality, it becomes clear that something peculiar happened to me upon disembarking from the aircraft. It was as if a mysterious force had encircled me, erasing the lines between past and present. And as I stepped into the terminal, I felt as though I had crossed a threshold into a world where the boundaries between reality and fiction were indistinguishable. This strange new reality triggered a sense of déjà vu that swept over me like a dense fog, unearthing memories and sensations long buried in my mind. Amidst the bustling sounds of the airport, I began to hear whispers and echoes from my past, slowly drowning out the present.
As I moved through the airport, the pace of life seemed to slow down to a crawl, as if time itself was being suffocated by the weight of the past. The mesmerizing beauty of the competing images that flooded my mind felt like a dance of madness, twisting and turning like a kaleidoscope of memories, both familiar and strange.
I had entered a surreal world where everything was both real and imagined. The airport became a labyrinthine maze of impressions that coalesced into a hauntingly beautiful experience. It was like walking through a dream that refused to fade away.
As I stood there, taking in my surroundings, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss within me. My mind was racing with thoughts and emotions that I couldn't seem to decipher. Was it fear that was gripping me so tightly, or was it something else entirely? My body was reacting in strange ways, and I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack. My heart was pounding, and I could hear it in my ears, and my breaths were coming in short, rapid gasps.
Looking around, I realized that I was completely alone in this unfamiliar place. There were no recognizable faces to greet me, no warm embraces to make me feel at home. It was just me, standing there, alone in this strange new world.
Trusting my instincts
As I waited at the curb, my attention was drawn to a driver who looked friendly. With a warm smile, he beckoned me over, offering me a good deal on the fare. Despite my initial reluctance, I agreed to let him take me to my destination and handed him my luggage to load into the trunk.
As the cab moved away from the sidewalk and into the flow of traffic, a creeping malaise began to invade me. What if the driver's friendly demeanor was just a facade? What if he had malicious intentions? My mind raced with a barrage of terrifying possibilities, and I couldn't shake the nagging thought that I had made a grave mistake. I searched for any signs that could reassure me of his trustworthiness, but all I could see was the back of his head. I felt trapped, powerless, and vulnerable.
Suddenly, my heart pounding in my chest, I blurted out an excuse to get out of the cab. "Please stop the car," I said, my voice trembling with anxiety. "I forgot a suitcase at customs. I need to go back to the airport."
The driver obliged, pulling over to the side of the road, and I quickly retrieved my luggage from the trunk. Watching him drive away, I felt relieved that I had followed my instincts and exited the vehicle. While it may have seemed like an overreaction, my guiding principle at that moment was to err on the side of caution and prioritize my safety above all else.
I couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt, though. I had lied to the cab driver, and it went against my values of honesty and compassion. However, despite my efforts to remain composed, I couldn't ignore the presence of fear that had engulfed me. I reasoned that fear was not necessarily a weakness, but rather an instinctual response to potential danger. I went even further in my justification by embracing fear as a crucial survival mechanism that helped me stay vigilant and alert to potential threats. Therefore, the top priority was to ensure my safety, and I took the necessary steps to protect myself. The peace of mind that came with being out of harm's way was worth it.
A ride to safety
My relief was palpable when a benevolent bus driver offered me a ride into the city. As I stepped onto the crowded bus, I was met with a sense of comfort and security. It was as if the other passengers were a protective shield, shielding me from the chaos of the outside world. The driver, who had witnessed my distress from afar, took notice of my frazzled state and kindly asked, "Did he try to rip you off?" I shook my head, feeling grateful for his concern. "No, I just feel safer on the bus," I replied honestly.
As the bus pulled away from the airport, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. I was alive, and I was going to see my family. The fear and paranoia of moments ago began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of excitement and anticipation.
I looked out the window at the passing scenery, taking in the unfamiliar and familiar sights and sounds of the city. Everything felt so different, so foreign, yet I was eager to explore and rediscover all that it had to offer. This was my chance to embrace the strange new world before me and start a new chapter in my life. The journey back to my roots had just begun, and I knew that it would be filled with challenges and surprises.
Antidote to paranoia
Since my first trip, I have had many more and each one has been unique. However, the experience I described in the previous pages stands out as a testament to the awesome power of thoughts and emotions. The state of mind that was anchored to the instant of time. Through this writing, I have attempted to recreate it both for me and my readers.
As might be evident, paranoia is a crippling and all-consuming force, distorting our perception of reality and making us question everything around us. When terror and uncertainty grip us tightly, our minds can play tricks on us, warping our perception of reality. Memories of happier times can fade into obscurity and slip from our grasp.
At the beginning of my first trip back to Serbia, paranoia became my ever-present escort. But as I immersed myself in the culture and reconnected with family and old friends, I began to see a different side of Serbia. I remembered the warmth and hospitality of the people, the rich history and culture, and the natural beauty of the landscape.
These recollections acted as an antidote to my paranoia, a psychological touchstone to tether me to reality. They allowed me to see Serbia through a different lens, one that illuminated the brighter aspects of the country that had been shrouded in darkness by my fears and negative press. They granted me the opportunity to discern the joys and bonds this place, once my home, had to offer, and allowed me to glimpse that my misgivings were not wholly warranted.
As I embraced the treasure trove of my own memories, I discovered a powerful tool to navigate the murky waters of the present. Amidst the capriciousness of life, my memories provided me with a much-needed sense of stability and grounding. Though, at times, the interpretation of reality may be tainted by the sinister whisper of paranoia, I refused to let it overpower me. Instead, I relied on the potency of memory to tame it and find solace in moments of tranquility amidst the tumultuous chaos of life. Through this process, I uncovered a deeper understanding of the intricate workings of the human psyche, and how the power of reminiscence can be harnessed to promote mental well-being.
1. The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, by Milan Kundera, Faber and Faber, 1981
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