Metamorphoses of Self

From wherever we find ourselves in our lives we still do want to find our way to what we define as a goal that one is justified in striving for. Call it what you will, it remains elusive. Writing as transition medium, as a vehicle of psychological transfer, and as a prompt for working through of what stands in our way in reaching that half-defined goal, can only serve this purpose in so far as one reaches the point of taking recourse to it. Inner ways stops being a metaphor in favor of becoming a means for reaching spots in our selves that otherwise remain out of reach, touch and transformation. Whether we conceive of it in a manner of Kafka's metamorphosis that happens overnight to an unawares individual, or in a manner of Borges' labyrinth that we may though enter but might not necessarily find out way back out of, or in a manner of Musil's recognition of being human beings without qualities driven by circumstances, reflections and sensations, the project of collecting not just one's thoughts but also the threads of one's everyday life into a semblance of a configuration one can find one's own place in remains open. Rather than waiting for happiness, one might more reasonably wait for a transformation coming forth in ways one might hardly be able to foresee.