Blog

  • Pity

    Pity

    One thing no one really tells you about being a parent is that there is no sympathy for a dented ego when you find that you’re not as influential over your kids as you wish you were. I see parents feeling sorry for their kids to the point of condoning behaviour that will only harm their kids later in life, but they persist nonetheless. In fact, many are celebrated for it and endowed with accolades for being selfless. Selfless, I kid you not!

    Really? Is it truly being selfless when you protect yourself from feeling bad because you had to set unpopular boundaries with your kids? Or is it more selfless to set the boundaries in spite of knowing that you will be unpopular with your kids? Given the huge divorce rates these days, of which I have contributed more than my fair share (shut up!), single parenting is ever more common. Take the above pitiful cycle and apply that to a single parent, and suddenly the problem is more than twice as large.

    Being a single parent has its perks. There is no debate about who’s turn it is to discipline or check up on the kids. Or whose opinion is more correct in deciding how to teach the kids important lessons. There’s also the comfort of knowing that you’re not going to be let down by a partner that doesn’t pull their weight or leaves all the unpleasant tasks for you.

    And then there’s the not so perky things about being a single parent. There is no one to debate with about who’s turn it is to discipline the kids. It’s always your turn. Deciding on how to teach them important lessons is between you and Google, if you dare. And there’s no one to blame when you drop the ball about something that needed to get done.

    Of course, it could be worse. Worse than this is having a partner but still being a single parent, and there are many of those relationships around. The kind where the one parent refuses to do anything that would make them unpopular with their kids, while the other does the tough jobs that raises their kids into responsible adults. Then there are partners that want to protect their kids from reality so that they don’t experience the character building events that the parent experienced as a child, and later wonder why their kids grow up entitled and ungrateful.

    The list of dysfunctional permutations goes on and on and on, but the pity is always the same. The pity that drives the self loathing that encourages kids to want to like their parents, instead of respecting them. The same pity that drives the kids to be well mannered but unappreciative, or polite but disrespectful. These contradictions in character traits hint at the underlying conflict that plague adults later in life when their childhood was spent being protected from principles because their parents were afraid of being unpopular.

    More important than all of this though, is that when that dented ego of the unpopular parent nags at the conscience to ease up and accept that some things cannot be changed, it is in fact a sign that the parent’s work is not done. Instilling a sense of gratitude and respect, sincerity and authenticity, and a healthy self esteem is exactly what parents are responsible for imparting to their children. Not having those attributes as adults makes for very inept parents (and that’s being really polite about it).

    The unpopular choice is most often the right one when it comes to parenting, but new age liberals will have us believe that children have a right to participate in the important decisions of their upbringing. That’s like saying that children have enough life experience to be able to have an informed opinion about why they need to learn a lesson that they refused to accept as a responsibility in the first place. It’s one thing explaining the rationale to a child, but entirely something else when seeking approval from the child for that rationale.

    The world is screwed up because we have incomplete adults raising children to be big babies in adult bodies. We don’t have a problem with millennials, we have a problem with the parents of millennials, but everyone is so focused on the millennials and blaming them for how they turned out that we forget that millennials did not raise themselves.

    Going through life feeling sorry for yourself robs you of a fulfilling life, and robs the next generation of desperately needed wholesome role models to learn from and look up to. Pity should be reserved for those that we believe are incapable of being better than who they are. When we believe that to be true about others, it confirms that we have achieved a state of smug arrogance while being a social liability. There is no age limit to being able to improve your current state. From children to great grandparents, being better than who you were the day before should be ingrained in our being. It can only become ingrained if it is the means by which we are raised from our earliest years, to the expectations that others have of us into our latter years.

    No exceptions. Any exceptions are reserved for those that are physically incapable of understanding the concept to begin with. Everyone else needs to step up and leave their pity party in the bathroom, where it belongs. A pity party is never appropriate for more than a party of one. Too many adults looking for sympathy and recognition of their valiant struggles at being adults simply don’t get this. And that is why those of us that do will always have to pick up the slack for the majority that don’t.

    Parenting is not for wimps or self indulgent fools. But unfortunately even rats can make babies.

  • Razing Adults

    Razing Adults

    I have a good chuckle each time I replay the words to that parody about millennials. The one sung by a human beat box singing to the tune of Life Goes On. As entertaining and relatable as the lyrics may be, it misses one critical point, which is in fact the irony of it all. The general discussions and criticisms about millennials are most often voiced by the generation of adults that came before them. So I wondered that if the adults are complaining about the next generation, who raised these millennials to be such dramatic and entitled members of society? Given the general level of irresponsible behaviour among millennials, they obviously couldn’t have raised themselves.

    It’s a common failing. We blame society for what is wrong with the world around us, but abdicate our responsibility to and participation in that very same society. We blame corruption for the misery in the country but abdicate responsibility for our contribution towards it when we dodge taxes or pay bribes to get out of speeding fines. And so it is with the millennial problem. The same adults that failed as parents are now ready to point out what is wrong with the generation that they failed, while feigning innocence in the process.

    Far too often I hear adults mention how they are trying to give their children everything that the adults didn’t have while growing up. They don’t want their children to struggle the way that they (the adults) did. They despise their trials in life as if it was a curse while neglecting to notice that growth and strength of character is not developed in times of ease. This selfish indulgence by adults has robbed an entire generation of critical character building experiences by trying to protect them from life itself.

    The greatest mistake you can make as a parent is to convince yourself that you’re raising children. You’re not. You’re raising adults. Unfortunately we have too many insecure parents who want to be popular with their kids rather than making the tough decisions that will guide them instead. Because they don’t have to be the bad cop, they assume that they’re doing a good job, while raising kids that are so fragile that not having an electronic device or enough online privileges sends their kids into a depressed state.

    Every tantrum thrown by a kid has a diagnosis of a mental disorder attached to it. Not only does this resign the remedy to dangerous and unnecessary medication, but it gives the parents a get-out-of-jail-free card by suggesting that the problem is not related to environment, discipline, or healthy boundaries. Adults that refuse to age gracefully because they’re afraid of letting go of their youth do not take their rightful place as adults, guides, mentors, and most importantly parents in the home, and in society. What this means is that there is a vacuum of leadership and role models that see egomaniacs taking office to lead nations, and children having to relearn the lessons of the effects of absent parents, while having parents around. Not only is it an avoidable burden, it erodes the social structures that are needed for harmonious and wholesome living.

    However, such harmony and wholesomeness is what everyone desires, but only a few are willing to actively pursue. Everyone feels entitled to peace and comfort, but no one wants to create the environment or circumstances needed for it. There is an app for everything, and an outsourced service provider to take care of what the apps can’t do. And somewhere in between there is a lost generation being raised to believe that selfish needs are justified and duty is only reciprocal if there is something in it for you.

    We’ve razed adults from the horizon and replaced them with entitled brats in adult bodies. They’ve tainted the formative years and then spend their lives trying to undo the damage that becomes evident in the troubled teen years of their children’s lives. That is, for those that stick around and don’t see parenting as optional. Unfortunately it is accepted as quite the norm for fathers or mothers, or both to abdicate responsibility knowing that there is a grandparent or a daycare service that will take care of the responsibility instead. The selfishness carries a nauseating stench that will linger long into the next generation who will have to figure out effective parenting by themselves, or from what little recollections they may have of the substitute adults that raised them.

    Raise adults. Not children. The growing process for children takes care of itself. They didn’t need to be taught how to crawl or walk, or talk. They followed your example because it was set through active engagement, and not through dishing out instructions and walking away. The same is true for self-respect, responsibility, compassion, sincerity, resilience, tenacity, and all those other wonderful traits that are sorely lacking in the world as we are experiencing it today. Children do not need lessons on how to have fun, or how to party. They just need absent parents to figure that out without any boundaries.

    Stop trying to live a perpetual childhood for the rest of your life. No matter how young you feel inside, you will not delay the aging process, or the inevitability of death. What you will achieve though, when chasing such superficial and childish goals like trying to look 18 when  you’re 30, or behaving like a student when you’re having a boys’ night out when you’re 40, is abandoning your responsibility to a child that will see your juvenile behaviour as acceptable, and will struggle to figure out why establishing a healthy relationship or fulfilling social contracts is so difficult. Remember that point about how they don’t need to be taught how to party? Well, when they hit the lows because of their ineptitude at maintaining healthy relationships, they will once again resort to unhealthy and reckless behaviour that they saw from their wayward parents who were trying to be cool instead of passing on a baton that was worth holding on to.

    Don’t fail your children because you insist on trying to lick the bottom of the cup of youth. It’s pathetic. And entirely unfulfilling. There is a beauty and a peace that is achieved in living a full life. Not full of yourself, but full of the beauty of the lives that you have touched, especially the lives of your children.

    Don’t raise children. Raise adults. The world has enough misguided kids already.

  • Honest Lies

    Honest Lies

    Dishonesty is the worst form of disrespect. It’s a show of disrespect to yourself before it says anything about the value you place on others. Far too often we convince ourselves of the need for the lesser of two evils to justify the dishonesty, but in the process we set in motion a sequence of events that undermines the very same greater good that those lesser evils are supposed to serve.

    It is so easy to shy away from being unpopular while claiming to uphold good relations. White lies aside, it’s the dark truths that we don’t have the courage to utter that convinces us that anyone else would have done the same thing; protect ourselves from vulnerability or weakness at all costs, because everyone does it, so it must be right. Vulnerability or weakness is only that if we care about appearing inept or incapable of fulfilling an expectation that others have of us. We start out by convincing ourselves that we dare not disappoint someone special and thus step on the slippery slope of dishonesty, instead of accepting that it is in fact our pride in not wanting to appear inept or incapable that we chose to hide in the first place.

    But why hide it? Surely if they’re so special they will understand and love us for the weaknesses we hold within? Perhaps it’s because we made them special before they earned such stature in our lives? We build the pedestals that we place them on and then curse them for tumbling down from the top of it. We build those pedestals for them because believing that they are deserving of it feeds our need to be associated with such amazing humanness. It is the curse of needing validation and inclusion. That feeling of acceptance and not being alone. Too many sell their souls to fill that gap only to realise that the gap filled with lies and pretences evicted their soul in the process. It’s the easiest path to losing yourself to the world and then wondering why the world has no sweetness left in it. Perhaps such idealism has no place in a society that has normalised dishonesty.

    The veneer of who we are is infinitely more important than the substance below the surface. That’s why so many are crushed the moment the veneer is stripped away and the substance of who they are is laid bare for them and the world to see. We polish the image and embellish it with intricate details, convinced that the detail is the substance, but still forgetting that it’s only for the facade. It only reveals the prettiness of the aesthetic while concealing the bitterness within. The bitterness spawned by failed relationships, dysfunctional homes, judgemental social structures, and a lack of authenticity in a life unlived.

    Not everyone experiences life this way. There are some that have wholesome relationships, a healthy self esteem, and contribute meaningfully towards those around them with a healthy dose of gratitude in return. But given the level of rage in the world, the masses that hide from responsibility and seek abdication instead are by far the greater of the two groups. Given the trinkets and distractions that have formed the wealthiest industries in the world, the wholesome ones are few, and insular. Insular from fear of contamination, I suspect.

    But reality is what we experience it to be. Lies or not, we’re all frogs boiling in the proverbial pot, adapting to the delusions as they form thick and fast around us, while becoming expert navigators through its jungle of deceit without noticing the life that such proficiency denies us. We ascend to the top of the canopies of that jungle and look down around us feeling triumphant and fulfilled, not realising that true fulfilment lies at the edge of the jungle in the sun-kissed fields waiting for us to sow the crops that we wish to reap, rather than reap the thorns of the jungle of deceit.

    We lie with sincerity more often than we care to accept, because it’s the lie often spoken that becomes the truth. Our belief in it being true lends our sincerity to its telling, but does not in any way convert a lie to the truth. We’re all honest liars at some point in our lives. Problem is, those some points become many points, and eventually become the norm for too many of us. That is why the world is now a daydream that ends in a nightmare more often than it is a nightmare that ends in a pleasant awakening.

  • Choose the Bitter Pill

    Choose the Bitter Pill

    Increasingly I see people entering their later years of life bitter and ridden with chronic ailments. Ailments that are referred to as lifestyle diseases for good reason because it results from poor choices that conflict with our need for balance and harmony. We fiercely protect our right to choose what we want and who we want in our lives, but seldom accept the consequences of such choices because it is easier to blame others than to accept accountability for the outcomes that suddenly oppresses us. Such is the nature of ingratitude. It is seated on a bed of entitlement while complaining bitterly about the demand for action.

    The ungracious heart looks at blessings and reminds itself that it’s of no consequence because of what they can’t have instead. We pine for partners and wealth that seems elusive and discard the good fortune we already have. Our fairy tale expectations of achieving everything or nothing at all, prince or pauper, nobility or peasantry, happily ever after or nothing, drives us to consider contentment to be achievable only in its entirety or not at all. Moderation is a lost art that has opened gaping wounds in society that created spaces for unhealthy indulgences to fill the void left by an absence of human connection.

    Human connection. It sounds idyllic, surreal, even romantic. All of which resonate with aspirational goals that elude the 99% that find themselves trapped in a game defined by the 1%. More accurately, the 1% are defined by the worship of the 99%. Without the loyal adoration of the fools, royalty will never hold significance. And so it is with the way in which we perceive our blessings relative to our burdens. Seeking affirmation before we affirm ourselves leaves us wanting when we have abundance. But abundance is inconsequential if it is not celebrated by those we wish to impress.

    Again, an ungracious heart seeks validation before recognising its own blessings. Realising that we are the architects of our own misery is a realisation that most despise. I’ve been on the receiving end of the most venomous attacks from people that were looking for praise for their martyrdom, because all I could offer them was the realisation that they were self-defeating pessimists instead. Like I’ve said before, the truth is only bitter if you’re not willing to accept it. And that is the bitter pill that we need to learn to swallow.

    If we were to only choose the elixirs that were palatable in our search for good health, we’d have very little health to enjoy. It is the bitter pills, the ones that cause the convulsions or leave the bitter after taste, those are the ones that shock the system into a state of healing. They harbour the changes needed to break the toxic cycles that threaten our peace, or the cycles that keep us grounded in a false reality that served our weakness when being strong was too daunting.

    When we protect ourselves from unpleasant experiences, we prevent ourselves from growth. That stagnation results in unrealistic demands from those around us, while cheating those that come after us of the wisdom they need to avoid the same rut that we courted for most of our lives. Choose the bitter pill, especially when the sweetness of life escapes you. It is the bitter pill that reminds us what sweetness tastes like, not sugary truths that protect us from reality.

  • Authentic Toxicity

    Authentic Toxicity

    Therapeutic expression has been elusive for some time now. Deliberately writing to finish a compilation of thoughts tends to constrain the thoughts themselves. It feels like herding cats, a sensation akin to seeking constructive engagement in a toxic environment. The benefit of a toxic environment is that it tends to provide sufficient distractions from the emptiness that it fosters. That emptiness is most prominently experienced when you exit from such a toxic space.

    The toxicity provides a sense of morbid purpose at times. That morbidity, however, is only ever felt when the efforts to achieve a positive outcome from herding the cats results in the dispersal of the cats, and a box of litter in your hands. The optimist looks at the litter in the box and celebrates the fact that it is contained. The pessimist looks at the litter and feels cheated out of the purring comfort of the cats that littered only to be left with the litter and not the affectionate embrace. The realist takes the litter box, empties it out, and moves on to find another cat to fill the litter box in the hope that the next round of litter will be accompanied by an affectionate exchange as well.

    Sometimes we’re so fixated on the hurt or the pain of betrayal that we hold on to that litter believing that it is an essential and defining part of the box. The box, of course, being our capacity to embrace life. Speaking in metaphors remains a cryptic skill that avoids unwanted scrutiny. Scrutiny is only good if not practiced for the sake of gossip or morbid curiosity. There are too many that show an interest in the problems of others simply because they need to feed their egos by internally (sometimes overtly) comparing the wholesomeness of their own lives to the life of the one that is feeling at odds with the world. Far too often that sense of wholesomeness is grounded in the convenience of being surrounded by others that have less. It doesn’t feel so wholesome when surrounded by others that have more.

    The sincere ones focus on those that have less so that they (the sincere ones) can gain an appreciation for what they have, while the insincere focus on the same so that they can feel superior and be recognised for their superiority. Authenticity does not feature for the kind that live their lives in the spotlight, even though that spotlight is powered up by their own egos for most of their lives. The meek under-estimate what good is in their own lives, and therefore celebrate the same icons who power up their own spotlights. Icons can be created through manipulation of the truth, but authenticity will continue to escape such a manufactured reality. That lack of authenticity leaves most feeling unfulfilled, including the icon worshipers. The realisation of such a lack of fulfilment manifests itself in the lives of the worshipers as an incessant subconscious yearning to have more and do more than the fickleness of the idol.

    We cannot wish away problems or adversity just as much as we cannot wish happiness into reality. Both are outcomes of our contribution towards its ends. Inactivity never yields happiness, it only ever yields complacency at best, and a festering of adversity at worst. A sincere choice made towards alleviating the adversity will provide a sense of fulfilment even if the outcome was unsuccessful. There is much joy and reward in knowing that you tried and failed, than to one day regret not having tried at all. That reward lies in the fact that despite your best efforts, the good you tried to impart was not thwarted because of a lack of effort on your part, but rather because of a lack of gratitude or awareness on the part of others. In that lies the secret to a peaceful life. The willingness to accept that despite our best efforts, success is not guaranteed, but in spite of the threat of failure, we chose to prevail.

    A brain dump carries its own sense of release from the angst of existing. Existence is a consequence of being, whereas life is a consequence of choice. I have always chosen to live, rather than to survive. A deep breath was never about regaining my composure or my footing, but instead, it was to take in the sweetness of everything that defined my experience in that moment, be it good or bad. Internalising the whole of the experience builds character, while internalising only the palatable feeds the ego. The ego does not exist independent of our choices. It is our choices. Too many blame their egos on their innate nature, when their innate nature has been stifled from fear of owning their life because of the risk of ridicule, or failure.

    Authenticity is in short supply. Everyone goes out searching for it in others, but very few offer it to those that seek it. Even less offer it despite them defining it as the minimum standard against which they will choose to show others due respect, or consideration. In a transactional culture, instant gratification is only a symptom of the insincerity of the masses to give before they receive. The epic proportions we have reached in this regard means that dignity is optional, and self-respect is not a consideration because self-respect has come to be defined by the trinkets of success that we have on display to the world, rather than the sense of accomplishment we have as a human being.

    Being human eludes us, while doing in humans has become a global sport.

  • Reciprocation

    Reciprocation

    I’ve seen myself walking a path through a barren land. In the distance, the very farthest end of the horizon, beautiful clouds gathered, non-threatening and cool in appearance. Rolling over itself casually as if waiting patiently for my arrival. I did not rush to meet it, because my companion was lagging behind. The sun where I stood circling in the sand, was beating down mercilessly. I could walk towards the comfort that awaited me, but my companion was looking worn and disheartened. From where she stood, the horizon looked very different. It was barren, just like the area surrounding us. She was too far back to see the clouds awaiting our arrival. So she slowed even more.

    I too slowed down. I could see it for the both of us, so it didn’t matter that she couldn’t. What mattered was that we got there together. So I halted, waited, and slowly made my way back to her to help her along. Shielding her eyes with my hands in the hope that it may reveal the clouds, she continued to look back. Back at the barren land with traces of smoke still pluming into the sky from where she left. She kept looking back hoping for the smoke to stop, but it didn’t. And the smell still stuck in her nose taunting her with images of the horrors she had seen before leaving that place.

    So I pulled her closer, steadied her footing, and gently nudged her forward so that we could start our journey again. The horizon slowly fading, even the clouds dissipating as I dragged the weight of us both towards that horizon. What little food and drink I had, I kept for her. She needed it more than I did. I could see the end in sight, and it gave me hope. She couldn’t see it, so she needed hope. And the little sustenance that remained was hope enough for her. If nothing else, it delayed the inevitable, as she peered over her shoulder again staring longingly at the plumes of smoke still barely visible in the distance.

    She ate and drank and regained her strength, as I slowly wilted beside her. But I didn’t show my wilting spirit. She needed hope, and I needed to be strong. Each step drained me more, while each step infused a newfound sense of determination in her. As she picked up her pace, I started lagging behind. The clouds on the horizon now creeping into view for her, she finally saw what kept me going all that time. Almost spent, I needed a moment to gather my strength for that final push to tear us away from those plumes of smoke forever.

    As I paused to rest, she grew impatient. I looked at her with the slightest smile on my face, as if asking her if she finally sees what I was pushing for all that time. Instead of a soft word, I received a scowl. I had now become the weight that was slowing her down to get to the destination that I fought to reach for the both of us. But that didn’t matter. The plumes were now gone, or even if they weren’t, she found hope to distract her from those plumes. Nourished with the little reserves we had left, she powered on and left me there, catching my breath, taking a moment to pause, to gather my strength so that I could stand up tall enough to get a glimpse of the clouds that was enough to feed my soul and my battered limbs.

    The clouds. Even though I could no longer see them, I still knew they were there. She disappeared into the distance as I kept steadily advancing a single pace at a time, until I rediscovered my rhythm. The same rhythm that kept me going for the both of us before, was now more than sufficient to keep me going by myself. I gathered pace, and scanned the horizon. Suddenly, the clouds melted in a haze of heatwaves rising lazily from the sand. As I looked around, I realised it was a mirage, and to the right, a slight distance further, around the side of the rocky cliffs that flanked our journey for so long, it appeared majestically in lush green shades, and the whitest clouds. I wanted to call out to her to turn back, but she was gone.

    [This attempt at a creative abstract personifies the journey that many of us take in our efforts to uplift others. Sometimes we expend ourselves to the point where we become the burden that we hoped to help others rise above. And sometimes, if we’re fortunate, we catch ourselves before we reach that nadir of our existence. That point that is so low, that looking up is too daunting, so we keep our gaze firmly fixed on the ground before us hoping for a sign as to when it will welcome us home. Today is not that day.]

  • Emancipation From Mental Slavery

    Emancipation From Mental Slavery

    The first tune that pops into my head when I think of this title is the song from Bob Marley. He sang about the mentality that enslaved us to our captors or colonialist masters, but the emancipation I am reminded of this morning is of a different kind. Over the years I’ve been fortunate enough to engage with people that struggled to break the bonds of a childhood that left them with more emptiness, than it filled them with dreams. What should have been the nurturing of young souls often turns into the imposition of burdens from old souls instead. The reason it was a good fortune to engage with such troubled souls is because many of their struggles resonated with my own.

    Sometimes in finding common ground, some draw on the common toxins that are shared in such a setting to emphasise the need to hold on to their own toxins that they collected through the years. Those trinkets of grief and betrayal convinces us that our worth is limited and defined by the sum total of how our nurturers treated us at times when we were supposed to be innocently adorable. I think at some deep subconscious level, the betrayals experienced during such innocent years convinces many that if they were not worth loving or embracing in that pure state, it cannot be possible to find the love or embrace that they need now that they’ve grown into a contaminated state. Unfortunately this internalised self-loathing is rarely visible to the conscious mind. Years of self-doubt erodes any sense of purpose, and purpose morphs into a desire to protect from a perceived threat that was rendered impotent the moment we achieved a state of material independence. It is one of those rare occasions when materialistic goals are critical to our survival.

    Independence in our material state affords us the opportunity to break the stranglehold that unfulfilled adults had over us up to that point. Sadly though, many that achieve this state of independence would rather use those hard earned tools to exact revenge or demand remorse rather than to break the cycle and invest in a future that kills off the demons of the past. When we desire emancipation from such a dreary beginning, despite our misguided efforts to feed that cycle by convincing ourselves that making them pay is a pursuit of justice, we invite forces into our lives that will cause us to question the value of seeking such justice.

    Assuming that the trials imposed on us during our innocent years were deliberate or conscious efforts by those troubled caregivers is an indulgence of our ego and nothing more. Everyone is fighting for significance, which means that everyone desires a space within which they are appreciated and understood. The fact that we lose faith in humanity to provide us with what we need is why we end up demanding such significance in selfishly destructive ways. Those troubled caregivers were no different. Without realising it, they eroded the faith of the innocents in their care through their selfishly destructive ways of demanding significance from those innocents. And that is how they fed the very same cycle that we all spurn.

    Sometimes, our efforts in breaking those chains that weigh us down bears down on us to near breaking point. Incessant demands from those around us for us to be better than who we thought we were eventually breaks our resolve because our deeply held belief that we’re incapable of more because we deserve less erodes the foothold of courage that brought us to that point. I often wonder how many fail to achieve their goals because when they reached the final stretch, they saw it as the beginning of yet another struggle, rather than the end of the struggle that they set out to overcome. More dreams have been abandoned in giving up in that final stretch that demands the most of us because instead of realising that it is the culmination of a grueling effort that now demands that we finally break ties with what was holding us back, we see it as a demand to let go of what little comfort we have, and instead we recede in favour of familiarity, rather than push ahead into a new reality.

    It is like navigating our way through the maze of life and finally approaching the exit, but instead of heading towards the light, we find the light threatening and instead we turn back to take comfort in the darkness because that is what our eyes have grown accustomed to. Wandering through the maze becomes a life long statement of the struggle of a life less lived, because in that maze there is no shortage of companions that view such valiant efforts to prevail in the darkness as being acts of courage and strength of the human spirit. Contending with self-imposed burdens that resonate with equally troubled souls offers more comfort and inclusion than pursuing a life of purpose that sets us apart from the crowd.

    Everyone wants to be celebrated, and revered, but only a few are willing to exit that maze and embrace a new enlightened reality. It is for this reason that the bulk of human effort is spent in mastering the game rules that others have defined, rather than forging our own new path through this world. Emancipation comes when we see ourselves for who we are, and not for how others have defined us to be. It arrives without pomp and splendour, or festive celebrations. It arrives quietly in moments when we seek it, but expect it to appear in a form that we desire it to be. Emancipation is that flicker of hope that we choose to grasp when stepping back is easier. It is that light that threatens to kill the being that we fought to protect all our lives, while demanding that we embrace vulnerability with the promise of growth and inspiration.

    Emancipation is achieved when we see more value in what we desire than the value that the familiarity of the past offers instead. Courage is therefore the sibling of cowardliness, because both appear to be valiant efforts of a brave soul, but the former is an obstinate challenge to complacency, while the latter embellishes fear with loud statements of rebellion.

  • Saturation Point

    Saturation Point

    There is a price to be paid for believing in people before they give you reason to believe in them. That price extracts a toll that demands your contribution during the days when they see little reason to believe in themselves. It often results from years of betrayal or failed expectations, until eventually the way the world treated them became the definition of how they viewed themselves, and how they viewed you.

    I’ve witnessed first hand how some rise to the challenge simply because they know that there is someone that believes that they can, while others recede and don’t even try because they know that there is no one that cares about the outcome either way. This resonates with me personally as well. I dropped out of school because no one noticed that I was uninterested and barely in school for a large portion of the year in the eleventh grade. So dropping out in the twelfth grade was an easy decision that went unchallenged. I didn’t particularly find it liberating or depressing. It just was that way, and at the time, the consequences were irrelevant. All that mattered was that no one noticed, so I had no reason to care either.

    But that only lasted to a point. The complacency and lack of ambition annoyed me. It annoyed me because it felt like there was something missing. Something beyond the token of having completed school, or needing a job others would respect. That something was a need to be consequential. To make a difference.

    Going with the flow never directed the flow. It only ever gave force to something already in motion. Sometimes, like dropping out of school, it felt irrelevant. Whether I was in or out didn’t matter, because the decision I had taken wasn’t a decision that mattered. I therefore gave up on the pursuit of something that seemed inconsequential because the effort to sustain something that I did not see any value in felt burdensome rather than purposeful.

    Entering the job market in a menial role also didn’t matter. It was a means to an end. Career goals were not foremost in my mind and I had no intention of changing the world. I simply needed to sustain my basic needs and contribute to those around me within the limited expectations that they had of me. It worked, and human attachment didn’t feature at all.

    That set the tone for things to come. At least it did until I realised that I always found a way to improve what I was doing even if improvement was not required. It wasn’t about reinvention, or fixing something that wasn’t broken. It was the excitement of realising that the little I had could do more than was originally intended. Whether it was a subconscious scream for purpose, or merely a frustration at seeing opportunities being wasted when someone could benefit instead, it drove me to constantly improve things without there being reward or recognition attached to it.

    Without realising it, that became my overwhelming passion and ultimately defined what I saw as purpose in life. At the time, I did not see it as passion or purpose. It was simply who I was, and still am. But that’s how I perceive it (and me) to be. Anyone not party to that journey of mine simply sees a restless soul that is never satisfied or content with what he has before him. I guess such a view has merit, but it’s the same type of merit that suggests that planting a tree whose shade you will not live to enjoy is a fruitless exercise. Such thinking causes the child to be oblivious to the comforting shade of a tree. When that child discovers the comfort of the shade later in life, they then find themselves compelled to plant a tree whose shade they will never live to enjoy, so that another lifetime is not wasted in acquiring such comfort.

    The energy to sustain such a drive for purpose in life is only acquired when the belief in the value it creates is held with conviction. That conviction fades when there is a constant barrage of critiques questioning the motives behind the contribution, rather than appreciating its outcomes or sharing its convictions. Eventually the conviction dulls and is replaced by the weightiness of ingratitude. That is the point at which caring becomes optional and servitude becomes obligatory.

    We all have physical constraints and self imposed tolerances. We reach the saturation point of tolerance long before our capacity to contribute has been depleted. It’s easy to lose the essence of who you are in your service to others. A life invested in the upliftment of others often results in an under investment of the self. Like it has been so eloquently stated before, you cannot pour from an empty cup. What’s worse is that the cups that were filled by your investment are rarely willing to look back to see how empty yours had become in filling them.

    Reaching saturation point means that the investment in what you saw as purpose starts to weigh you down more than the fulfilment of seeing its fruition lifts you up. It sets in when the contribution is constantly paid forward, but seldom is anything paid back.

    [This is an incomplete and rather cryptic thought process, the value of which will escape most, and add yet another weight to the burden of investing in others. Perhaps it is an investment that was never intended to yield returns in this lifetime. Perhaps not.]