The Psychosomatic Life 

This piece of wood from the fireplace in my lounge reminds me of how we allow ourselves to disintegrate while feeling appreciated for the beauty that we share with the world in our falling.

There is a consistent thread that runs through the seemingly downtrodden of society. It’s a thread that rallies the masses and enables political agendas. It creates causes that people subscribe to with aggressive conviction and sets wisdom and reason aside in favour of the ridiculousness of the herd mentality.

The thread is a belief that the state of our lives and our health is imposed on us by an unjust society. It’s a belief that dis-ease is a result of human beings that rob us of comfort and peace, while turmoil and suffering is independent of the choices we make. In short, it is a thread that believes that the self-imposed oppression that we visit upon ourselves is in fact not our doing. It must be because we are the weak ones being taken advantage of by the stronger ones. Or the unlucky draw of genetic inheritance visited upon us at birth.

It is a toxic mindset that sets us down the path of pain and disappointment, until we do it so often that we eventually become convinced that being anything better is just not meant for us. And then we go off and convince others that we find in a similar circumstance that perhaps it just was not meant to be.

For those of us raised with the belief that our mistakes are not our accountability because we’re just human after all, such a reality becomes the story of our lives. We live symptomatically and assume that our whispers to the universe will yield the results that hard work and conviction was meant to deliver. Those that have access to resources in abundance whisper to the universe anyway, and then while expending such resources that reduce the amount of physical contribution needed, proclaim that the universe has answered.

Those that lack access to such resources smother their souls at the lack of response from the universe, and then convince themselves that their diseased minds are a manifestation of the ill health that they experience, which is a genetic inheritance they have no control over, while believing that they were destined to suffer such trials because they were born to be martyrs.

Psychosomatic is an easy way to live miserably. To feel oppressed because of conditions apparently out of your control is the best way to console yourself at your lack of action, or pathetic attempts at conviction. If only we held as much conviction in being accountable as we do for believing in our oppression, we’ll amaze ourselves at how much we can achieve with so little.

Silver spoons and trust funds are not needed to have a holistic experience of this world. Those that believe that we were created simply to suffer in order to be rewarded later on has taken a distortion of reality and turned it into religious dogma that holds no weight. When we absolve ourselves of the outcomes of the choices that we make, we indulge the futility of a fickle mind. We convince ourselves that we need a helping hand to achieve anything meaningful in life, and that such a hand will only arrive when we are divinely deserving of it.

The delusions are endless, but in spite of the delusions, as much as we convince ourselves that we have no choice in the matter, the irony is that we are choosing to be the victims of a circumstance that we create. Lifestyle diseases are not lifestyle diseases. They’re diseases of the mind, which is reflected in the lifestyle. The distracted ones, and the vast majority of us are distracted for 99% of our lives, observe the lifestyle choices and assume that it is a result of societal pressures that we need to contend with in order to cope with life in the circumstances in which we find ourselves. We just as soon extract ourselves from the society in which we live, as much as we distance ourselves from the choices that we make.

It’s easier to feel burdened and receive the accompanying sympathy from similarly burdened souls, and in the process believe that such sympathy is in fact a source of strength, than it is to feel the burden and have the conviction to rise above it through whatever means we have at our disposal. But we hate failing, so sticking our flimsy necks out to take that leap of courage to own our lives is asking for too much. It’s easier to fail collectively, than to fail alone. Setting out on a path of your own demands a level of courage and conviction that is erased from your life when you live according to the whims and weaknesses of the masses.

Those that show you sympathy only ever make you feel better about where you are in life. They never prompt you towards being better than who you are. When we suspend life until our struggles and burdens are recognised, we internalise one simple fact that our bodies respond to with alarming accuracy. We tell ourselves that we are not ready to do more, to achieve more, or to live more. For this reason, our bodies that are mere vessels of expression of the will of our souls, slowly shuts down in an ungraceful manner, resulting in lifestyle diseases that are in fact lifestyle choices, because we lacked the courage to persevere without the sympathy of those around us.

[This is an incomplete thought process]

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