Tag: my struggle

  • A brain dump

    A brain dump

    I need to return to my self. When the feeling of being adrift and the mental fog merge, the road ahead appears as a romantic setting filled with intrigue and adventure, but little answers. In seeking such answers, I may find new paths and new passions, but such a journey cannot be undertaken when chained to the present.

    The yokes must first be dismantled before the anchors lifted. The past is of no consequence except for its gifts that continue to colour the present moment. Wishing it away has never resulted in anything more than regret or escapism. Embracing it, despite most often being a cold and uncomfortable embrace, has always offered the opportunity to warm up to it, before moving beyond it.

    There appears to be wisdom in learning to love the challenges I face, rather than spurning their roots. I lost myself many times in the distractions that result from a fixation on its roots, often questioning the value of my contribution towards countering the anticipated outcomes that now weigh on my shoulders as yokes of past decisions. Those contributions, when focused on with regret, grew larger than my strength to prevail beyond it, turning it into a living monument that slowly defined my sense of self. Thus I lost myself to moments long gone, and in investments long since diminished in value.

    In returning to my self, I must embrace the beauty of my being that afforded me the conviction to contribute towards that which held no promise beyond that moment, but whose hope carried me to see dreams beyond the impossible that I faced. Despite not having achieved those dreams, its descendents have spawned new paths that otherwise would have remained concealed, but importantly, have eliminated any reason to question myself later had I held back in my contribution towards what I hoped to achieve.

    Speaking cryptically is a game that tests my resolve between unbridled rage at the world, and quiet contemplation of my right to rage. Rage is only needed when I refuse to embrace the naivety and convictions that encouraged my contribution towards that which I knew carried the promise of betrayal as much as it carried the hope of joy. Denying my contribution to justify my rage would therefore be as hypocritical as the ones who betrayed my efforts because they saw their vulnerability as a weakness to be condemned, and therefore preemptively judged me to be what they expected of me, rather than what I offered in truth.

    There’s a harshness that creeps in when we see our tenderness as weakness, rather than seeing it as a proclamation of our ability to remain human in a calloused world. It’s that same harshness that defines the tone with which we receive the tenderness in others. When we assume their tenderness to be a drain on our strength, we lose the benefit of seeing in them the gentleness that we must harbour in us to avoid inviting the harshness of the world into the cavities of our souls. Those cavities, when seen as failings or as evidence of inadequacy, become sources of shame, rather than opportunities to create the joy and the beauty that they await.

    Joy and beauty would have remained elusive to my dysfunctional being had I restrained myself when common sense dictated such restraint. It was through abandoning common sense that I departed from the trajectory that honoured the emotionless heritage that had defined my world up to that point. It has always been my ability to dream of being more than I ever had a right to claim that I found myself among beauty and fulfilment that would otherwise have remained foreign to my experience of this world.

    It is in my rejection of what others believed to be true about me that I found myself. It was in that rejection that I revealed their rejection of themselves in favour of their need to belong to their soured legacies. It is in that rejection that I found the most beautiful of souls with whom to share sacred moments and even bigger dreams. Without that rejection, I would have been as dejected as many of the vapid ones who spend their lives courting the validation of those who invalidated them to begin with. Seeing the hollowness in their eyes, it was my rejection of such a hollow existence for myself that I created space for kindred souls to create in me what the legacy of my lineage would never have been able to endow.

    Thus, it was rejection that guided me to me. It was choosing what I did not want for myself, without waiting for the arrival of common sense, that allowed me to create space for what I hoped to experience, and who I hoped to embrace. And the embrace that I found through such rejection outweighs the accumulated benefit of all the validations that I could have courted instead.

    Life has a way of meandering towards that which we desire most, but through paths that often defy logic while priming us for the state we must achieve if we hope to have the capacity to embrace what it is that we want. By respecting the fears that define the efforts of those around us, we limit ourselves to achieving only a shadow of their achievements, because we would never discover the potential that we hold within. Sometimes it’s more important to focus on what we need to reject, than applying ourselves towards that which we hope to achieve. It demands a trust in the harmony of life that exceeds any balance that we may be able to consciously extract from such a flow. Fighting the rapids is often the least effective way to navigate through tough times. Perhaps in that is the wisdom that I need to secure my way beyond this torrential period of my life.

    Regardless of which way it goes, I am clear about the path that I choose to pursue through the foggy road that lies ahead. And the companion to accompany me on that journey will reveal themselves when the space I create meets the path that they’re on. Until then, the journey holds the promise of many beautiful revelations, akin to the revelations that revealed the possibility of being more than I ever thought possible for a man whose heritage denied anything beyond mediocrity or common sense.

    Legacies are only to be honoured if they honour the truth of who we are. Discovering that truth is therefore only possible when we see in ourselves the possibility of the future, rather than remaining loyal to the inheritance of the past.

  • Recognise My Struggle

    Following on from my contemplations of the impact of our ego and pride on our ability to accept change in our lives, another trend appears to emerge from the same cycle. That trend relates to our need to be significant in the lives of those that influenced our lives at a point in time when our identity was still being formed. Significance takes many forms and is hardly limited to just being able to play a meaningful role in the life of another. That is the easy part. You either find that acceptance or you don’t. If you don’t, you feel rejected and betrayed and you choose to hold on to that as a defining moment, or you choose to let it go and move on.

    The more difficult part is when we don’t play a meaningful role any longer in their lives, but still desire to be perceived more positively by them. This is significantly more damaging than the previous scenario of rejection because we pretty much set ourselves up for failure in the process. The less meaningful our role in someone’s life, the less likely we are to influence their perception of us. Worse still, it assumes that they still care about how they perceive us. In other words, we still assume that they notice or care about our development and progress in life.

    Problem is, more often than not, they don’t. More often than not, they’ve moved on and we’re still stuck in a moment in time that has long since become insignificant for them. They’ve either made peace about it, or chances are it probably never meant as much to them as it did to us. And so we set out on that hamster wheel trying to turn it faster than we did the day before hoping that someone will notice the improved performance, while not realising that the sum total of their interest is really just whether or not the wheel is turning. But we assume that their interest must be more than that because of the gravity we placed on the influence they yielded in our lives. That’s a burden of responsibility on them that only exists in our minds and probably never even occurred to them.

    So we have choices. Several choices. We could impose ourselves in their space, bare our souls, and hope they reciprocate and appreciate so that our struggle to please or impress them receives some validation. Or we could recognise that maybe the emphasis of that experience may have been exaggerated in our own minds because we had nothing more significant as an influence in our life at that time. Or, we could let go of it all and simply focus on progressing our development because it’s taking us in a direction that we consciously choose for ourselves, regardless of the past experiences that may have prompted us in that direction. Most don’t even consider the last option because of how fixated they are on meeting expectations that are formed only in their own minds.

    Given how blatantly destructive this cycle can be, I’m compelled to believe that there must be something more that drives this behaviour. More than just the fulfilment of an aspiration rooted in a past relationship or past lifetime. I think that something more is related to our need to be recognised for what we achieve. It’s like the proverbial tree that falls in the forest. If no one is around to witness it, its fall from grace is meaningless. There is no regret or sympathy, or even a simple recollection of its moments of glory when it stood tall and provided shade and beauty. Fortunately for us trees are beautiful independent of our appreciation of them.

    The same is true for people whose focus is internal rather than external. They are not driven by validation, but rather by contribution. Conviction to serve because it resonates with their principles, rather than desire to be celebrated because it resonates with their ego. I guess the point is, the more we need to be recognised for the struggle we’ve endured, even if that struggle is simply a figment of our own imagination, we will find reasons to emphasise the remnants of that struggle at every turn until someone validates the strength it took for us to rise above it in spite of the gravity of it. That validation becomes ever more significant to us when we allow ourselves to be defined by the events of our lives, rather than our contribution towards the lives of others.

    Self-worth. It’s the one thing that drives us to do the most destructive things, mostly to ourselves before we do it to others. Those that fight the realisation of that low self-worth most fiercely are the ones that become more abrasive and abusive towards others around them. Those that succumb to it without feeling worthy of overcoming it recede and become mutes in the landscape of life. They are the placeholders among us. They are available to be solicited but do not themselves actively contribute. Their inclusion in such solicitation is what appeases their ego enough to give them reason to continue restraining their individual expression from fear of reducing their chances of being included. They are constrained in their thinking and focus their efforts on fulfilling expectations falsely believing that they are serving a greater good, while in reality are too afraid to serve independently.

    When we go through life waiting for our struggles to be recognised, to be seen as the walking wounded, or the ones that survived, we become defined by that survival. We become survivors. Survivors don’t enjoy the sweetness of life. They simply enjoy the deferral of death.

     

     

  • My Struggle Continues

    It tires me just thinking about how futile some struggles can be. Many of my struggles fit this description quite well. Seeing all the posts about Muharram, about special occasions, about noted personalities, and scholarly quotes, and admirable leaders…all this sometimes inspires me, but most times it tires me. 

    It reminds me of how much people focus their lives around special occasions and forget to live in between. It reminds me about how so many become cult followers of notable personalities and inadvertently create sects within the Ummah. I see people arguing about who should have been the leader of the Muslims after the demise of our beloved Prophet (pbuh) as if that would influence their imaan or standing in Allah’s eyes as individuals…and they forget how many transgressions they commit in the process of such useless debate. 

    We’ve become historians about Islam more than we are believers…we need so badly to be right about whose view is correct and whose is kufr that we’ve lost sight of the essence of Islam. We focus on who practices which rituals and compartmentalise them so that it’s easy to define where they fit in the hierarchy of believers, as if we’re even capable of gauging the true worth of anyone. And all this leaves me feeling quite disillusioned about life and this Ummah that I so desperately want to feel a part of…but I don’t.

    I feel like I’m on the outside looking in, despite sharing the same articles of faith, and the same passion for peace and tranquility of the soul in finding serenity in the remembrance of Allah. But…sigh…it doesn’t seem to matter. Presentation is much more important than substance these days. The embellishment of the facade determines our worth in the eyes of others…reminds me of something someone posted recently that struck a chord with me…despite your best intentions, society will judge you by your appearance, but despite your best appearance, Allah will judge you by your intentions. Still, we focus on appearance…we focus on appearance…and social circles…and prestige…and social standing…and outward religiosity…and when this becomes the preoccupation of my mind, I remind myself that a prostitute was granted Jannah for a single sincere act of kindness to a dog…that same prostitute would have been openly declared by many a scholar as being a kaafir because of her chosen line of work…or her dress code…or her social standing…yet she was a Jannati…but STILL, we judge by appearance…and have useless debates that never strengthens our imaan but only strengthens our pride or arrogance because of our skill at debating and nothing more…it’s so tiring…utterly exhausting…