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  • Where to From Here?

    Where to From Here?

    Where do you go when you’re done with the world, but the world is not done with you? The blessing of having a lot of life in your years is that you have a lot of life in your years. While others are playing it safe, treating life like the marathon that it is, I’m the one rushing from sprint to sprint knowing that the marathon could end quite unceremoniously at any moment.

    The highs are frequent and exhausting, but so fulfilling. The lows creep up when you pause for a breath between the sprints and you notice that by comparison, you appear a tad crazy to those that are happy to be carried by the trickling current of complacency. Complacency always feels like a threat to me. It threatens to subdue my spirit in favour of a meaningless composure.

    Composure is something that is obviously subjective, but also often misunderstood. For me, composure is a sense of quiet confidence and fulfilment about what I’m aware of, what I’m capable of, and what I want from a given moment. When those three things feel balanced, it becomes very difficult for anyone to disrupt that composed state. Of course this ruffles many feathers at times because sometimes people want you to look like you’re in disarray at the news of their challenges or drama.

    The more grounded I find myself in a moment that demands a reaction, the more rational I find my response to be. For this reason I defend my personal space aggressively from such external interference that threatens to contaminate it with paranoia and entitlement. I found all of this coming to the fore more than ever in recent months, which resulted in me quitting my job in a corporate to finally pursue opportunities that I am passionate about.

    What was important in my decision to quit was whether I was doing it because I felt compelled to, or because I wanted to. I’ve had previous run-ins with big egos in corporate settings that forced me to choose my sanity over my income, and each time my sanity was not for sale. Sanity in this case was not only my grasp on reality, but also my sense of dignity and authenticity. When either was threatened, it brought out a side of me that many found abrasive. The reason they found it abrasive was because they did not share my values and ideals. Before I realised this, I simply assumed them to be dishonest or insincere. Now that I’ve realised this, I simply judge them for not demanding more from themselves, but I refrain from correcting them.

    This shift in engagement principles has been a significant change for me to embrace. When I embraced it, I realised that I was starting to compromise on the core of being me, and instead, I was starting to play the political games that make or break careers in the corporate world. That’s when the decision to exit became easy for me. It was no longer in response to a threat from colleagues, or from fear of being maligned or blamed for things out of my control. Instead, it was a solemn realisation that all the fight and passion that I have in me could be better spent in endeavours that had a chance of influencing the change that I wish to see in the world around me.

    Emerging from a cocoon-like state in a protected environment and facing the world on your own terms is a daunting experience, especially when your responsibilities extend well beyond just your personal well being. I’ve seen so many feel bitterly entrapped in their jobs because of the responsibility that they have towards their families. I’ve also seen the same people grow distant and abrasive and entitled towards their families because of the self-imposed view that they are tied down to a job that they hate simply because they have responsibilities. That made their supposed sacrifices all the more meritorious, and any action or inaction that did not celebrate that sacrifice was seen as ingratitude. I couldn’t allow myself to get into that state.

    Our perception of our options, I’ve discovered, are often informed by our ego. We fill ourselves with self-importance, and then use that self-importance to convince ourselves why we should not take risks. The risk aversion is not always related to the responsibilities that we have. Instead, it is related to our fear of failing at something other than what we are familiar with. When we hate what we’re familiar with, we find reason to defend our decision not to do something decisive about it, and often that defense is based on apportioning blame to others, or to circumstances because once again, it absolves us of the responsibility to act.

    Where to from here? I don’t know. What I do know is that if I fail to recognise the value that I contributed to the corporate world over the last twenty odd years of my life, and if I fail to appreciate the re-usable skills that I acquired in that time, I’ll be looking for another hand-out job offer to keep me sane and relevant. My focus now is therefore on everything that I have proven myself to be capable of, and to find ways to apply that in a meaningful way to pursuits that are anything but conventional, while seeking to fulfil the conventional needs of those that don’t realise they have those needs yet.

    It is a cryptic space, but not any more cryptic than life has been so far. The only reason we don’t recognise how cryptic life has been is because everyone was facing the same growing pains as we were. So there was collective comfort in knowing that we were not incompetent by ourselves. The cynic in me has returned, it seems. But this is a natural disposition that offers me insights into opportunities that would otherwise be hidden by the monotony of being normal. A return to myself is called for, and leaving a toxic environment on my terms was the first decisive step I needed to take to ensure that my life amounts to more than just a regular pay cheque from an unfulfilling job. There is relevance and significance to be earned outside of corporate. And that is where I’m heading with everything that I am.

    Perhaps the world that I was done with, was in fact not the world at all.

  • The Edge of Being Broken

    The Edge of Being Broken

    Life has a way of beating you down while lifting you up. It’s often a morbid combination of how we perceive the value we wish to add to the lives of others, versus how they perceive that value themselves. As much as we may strive to separate the two, it is impossible to do so. There is nothing that we do that is not influenced by how we want to fit into the world around us, even if just our perception of it.

    I’ve been told that my writing has lost its authenticity over the years because the brutal honesty of expression that once defined my thoughts that bled into my posts has been replaced by a subdued diplomacy that makes it more tolerable for others. Without realising it, that appears to have shaped my interactions in recent years as well. Being more tolerable. I’m often reminded of Plato’s words when he said, “No one is more hated than he who speaks the truth.”

    Truth is most often defined by how we view the world before it is defined by how the world views us. Whether the sky is black or blue is not a matter of truth. That’s simply a matter of fact relative to a construct of reality that is shared by all of us. How we experience that blue or black sky is what defines our truth compared to the truth of another. If I avoid the cold isolation of darkness and only come out during the day, the blue sky will always be welcoming and comforting to me. But if I loathe the light and prefer the shroud of darkness that hides the brutal nature of man, the blue sky will taunt me while the black sky will provide a place of repose. In both instances, my truth is defined by what I need from the world, and not by what the world needs from me.

    What is needed from me is a guessing game that has lasted my entire life without any sign of abatement anytime soon. At times I have chosen to actively contribute towards the lives of others, while at other times I’ve withdrawn from the fatigue of not having my contribution appreciated. At such times I despise our innate nature that demands significance so that we don’t feel inconsequential to those around us. To be consequential, or to make a difference determines the difference between a good night’s rest and insomnia. When we believe our contribution is appreciated we sleep like babies. Let our contribution be ridiculed or dismissed as futile, and sleep escapes us in favour of late night contemplations of how we arrived at such an unappreciated point in our lives.

    Karl Marx got it right when he said that last words are for fools that haven’t said enough. Foolishness sets in when we persist in trying to convince others of our truth when they’ve convinced themselves that we do not have something of value to offer them. Foolishness also sets in when we convince ourselves that our truth is relevant when we give others credit for a level of competence, gratitude, or integrity that they don’t have. That’s when we find ourselves passionately trying to convince others of the merits of our perspectives when they’ve already decided that we’re fools to begin with.

    Perhaps authenticity is lost when I project my experiences of the world as being a collective experience of humanity. The assumption that I am like others is often made to avoid the arrogance of assuming that I am different. Being different is only pleasant if that difference is celebrated by others. The moment it is celebrated by others, it implies that they aspire to the same levels of definition in their contribution to this world, which means that I’m not different to begin with. I’m just more successful at achieving that which others strive to achieve themselves. More importantly, my symptom of being the same is more reflective of my need for inclusion than it is of my need to recognise any uniqueness of offering.

    Last words are only needed when we’re not willing to let go of the perception that others may have of us. For this reason, the one that withdraws from a debate first is more likely to have recognised the limitations of their skills of persuasion or the limitations of their counterpart’s ability to grasp the point that is being made. Either way, it’s an acceptance of what is, rather than a persistent desire of what should be. When we stubbornly believe in achieving value that we know will benefit others, in spite of them not being willing recipients of that value, we define the basis for our struggle in life long before those around us reject our efforts to influence the quality of their lives.

    Reaching breaking point is a combination of investing more in the alleviation of the burdens of others, than what you invested in providing for your own needs first. Living selflessly dictates that you should strive to alleviate the burdens of others before you strive to acquire comforts for yourself. Walking that thin line reminds me of moments from my childhood when I walked on the railings surrounding the park outside our school, balancing precariously as I wobbled from side to side while trying not to fall off, until losing my foothold unexpectedly and landing with my legs apart and my jewels firmly smashed onto the railing itself. For all its glory and trinkets, life is pretty much as simple as walking on that railing. The thrill of striding confidently without slip entices us to keep getting back on the railing after it smashed our jewels for the umpteenth time. Until eventually, the memory of the pain of having smashed jewels between my legs replaces any desire to experience the glory of stepping on the rail to begin with.

    The edge of being broken is finding yourself in a space where you do not wish to participate in the morbidity of human engagement any longer, but are compelled by that same nature to trudge along the unwilling path because not doing so will result in the same demise that engagement threatens to offer. The edge of being broken is defined by being an unwilling participant of a system that defines your quality of life with or without your active participation in such a system. Respite is offered in the form of acceptance of your limitation to influence that system, while subduing your desire to prevail over it.

    What we define as our quality of life is often defined by the level of luxury that we’ve grown accustomed to in life. When we embrace the responsibility of providing the same level of comfort to those around us as our fulfilment of their rights over us, we find the edge of being broken in the realisation that the sacrifices that we may eventually be willing to make for our own levels of comfort will result in an imposition of hardship or discomfort on the same group that we are committed to serve. Their perception of our truth will rarely be aligned with ours, and so the strain of the system bears down when we aim to recalibrate our contribution towards the system while feeling compelled to maintain a level of contribution that appears to be unsustainable.

    We define the system by subscribing to the perspectives that we have of it. We hold on to those perspectives because they also define how we wish to be perceived by others. Ultimately we break ourselves, but in our broken state, we retract from the system that we established and choose to blame it for our demise, when in fact our demise was caused by our unwillingness to let go of the perspectives that chained us. Conviction is the bitch that nips at our heals when we’re trying to walk away from a life that appears to be serving others more than it appears to be serving us.

    [This thought process made a lot more sense in my head. Probably just another fatality of my contaminated perspectives.]

  • Mindfully Distracted

    Mindfully Distracted

    Mindfulness seems to be the next big binge for self help gurus. I don’t consider myself a self help guru by any stretch of the imagination. However, this does not prevent me from being critical about those that claim to guide others towards self improvement when in fact their guidance merely encourages distractions, or coping mechanisms instead. In its most basic form, mindfulness can be described as the ability to observe while suspending judgement or bias. In other words, don’t jump to conclusions just because what you’re observing or witnessing appears to be a familiar sight relative to a previous experience.

    The easy bit of advice would therefore be to suspend judgement and bias. Do that, and suddenly you’re mindful. Right? No. Not so easy. Judgement and bias are innate qualities that guide us through life. Even if we try to be non-judgmental about something, we need a frame of reference as to what being judgemental would be. Once we have that frame of reference, we then consciously choose to subdue parts of it in favour of exploring the possibility that something may be different about what we’re witnessing in that moment. The parts we don’t subdue are the limits of boundaries that we define for what is acceptable in that circumstance. In other words, we encounter a moment of willingness to be informed of something we didn’t previously consider while recognising that some things remain non-negotiable. Take that to the extreme, and it means that we acknowledge that there is a possibility that we may not be fully aware of the circumstances and nuances of what we’re experiencing. This forces us to be more alert and more adaptable because we realise that the outcome is potentially unpredictable, but not necessarily a threat to us.

    However, if we recognise that we may not be fully aware of the circumstances and nuances but have a greater desire to appear to be authoritative or in control, we’re more likely to grow aggressive, defensive, or simply obnoxious about how we deal with the situation at hand, often undermining the rights and feelings of others in the process. This response is grounded in insecurity about how we see ourselves, versus how we want others to perceive us. Unfortunately some people are so entrenched in their beliefs about themselves, that considering that they may be wrong about something completely disrupts their composure, which makes them aggressive, passive aggressive, or evasive. At the root of it all is a desire to be significant in that moment.

    When we desire significance, we adapt our approach towards that which we believe would encourage acceptance and admiration from those we’re interacting with. If we believe we are capable of winning such admiration and respect, our confidence grows and we become more bold and charming in our presentation of our views or the delivery of our message. However, if we doubt our ability to be convincing in that regard, we feel threatened because a show of incompetence may lead to an erosion of significance. If the audience we’re with could meaningfully influence the quality of our life, we’ll restrain the aggression and put more effort into appearing amenable to alternate perspectives. Stated differently, we try not to be offensive in our response because we believe that their acceptance of us is core to our wellbeing. This induces stress which then demands an outlet if not handled well.

    Take the above scenario and change the audience to one that we do not view as being influential on our quality of life, and suddenly our response is very different. Instead of restraining ourselves, we speak our minds, go on the attack to demand significance, and disregard any concerns about how they may view us. Incidentally, we do the same with those that we believe are less likely or unable to reject us if we behave in such an abrasive manner. That could be because of our belief in how reliant they are on us, and therefore would be forced to agree with us. This similar to those times that we felt compelled to be amenable with those characters that we didn’t agree with, but who had authority over us that could significantly affect our quality of life. For example, a boss that could fire us if we spoke openly about what we didn’t like about our job or how they were running things. Of course, sometimes we behave abrasively because the subconscious boundaries that we set for ourselves are being breached.

    But how does all of this tie into mindfulness? Each time we get a sense of dread or elation, we’re automatically distracted by the assumption we hold of the probability of the outcome, be it negative or positive. Whether we’re proven right or wrong, in that moment, we lose mindfulness and instead assume a disposition relative to a preempted outcome. It’s for this same reason that we sometimes get hit from out of the blue when something is going so well, but without warning, turns sour. At other times, something that we expect to turn out badly goes really well. In both instances, the hints at how things are going may be so subtle that unless we’re open to observing them, they’re easily missed.

    The reality is, we’re human. Our emotional make up is more complex than we could possibly imagine which is why we’re each so unique, even when we try to mimic others. There is always something that sets us apart, sometimes in ways that we like, but often in ways that we don’t. Hence the masses that incline towards fandom rather than defining their own unique path.

    The trick therefore is to find the balance between being mindful to the point of being mechanical, versus being emotionally responsive to the point of being irrational. When we recognise and accept our humanness, we’ll be less inclined towards feeling threatened and instead, we’ll find it easier to be accepting of the humanness of others. Developing a habit of reining ourselves in during those moments of dread or elation will allow us to savour the good moments and learn from the bad, without feeling whimsical or threatened in the process.

    In between all that a creative outlet is needed to allow for the freedom of expression that does not restrain us relative to the views or expectations of others, because if you look back at all you’ve just read, you’ll realise that everything is about how we are perceived or how we want to be perceived by others. That’s why it gets complicated. That’s why we search for soul mates and kindred spirits. Without them, we find ourselves slowly depleting our energy reserves without getting that boost of inspiration because we have a lack of safe spaces for free expression that defines us based on our convictions and desires, rather than on what we believe we are expected to do for others.

    Meditation or prayer is what gives us retrospective pause to realise where on that treadmill of life we find ourselves. Mindfulness is what reduces our need for such deliberate reflection. And sometimes, without realising it, we become distracted in our efforts to be mindful, while allowing moments of excitement, joy, or exasperation to escape us because we are too busy observing the individual components that make up that wholesome experience.

    Welcome to the pit of quick sand we often refer to as the human condition.

  • The Sound of Inevitability 

    The Sound of Inevitability 

    One of my favourite movie scenes is the one in The Matrix where the agent holds down Neo’s head as he has him pinned down to the railway tracks. With the sound of an oncoming train rumbling in the distance, the agent pulls Neo’s head up and says in the coldest, driest, and most deliberate tone, “Hear that Mr Anderson? That’s the sound of inevitability.” The rest is history. But that sound of inevitability always resonates with me.

    The endless jokes about the light at the end of the tunnel need no retelling. It’s not the light that is important, but rather the inevitable nature of the passing of every trial or tribulation that weighs us down. Too often we’re so distracted about the light and whether it is good or bad, that we forget to step out of the way if it’s bad, or embrace it if it’s good. Most end up just feeling overwhelmed, while others entirely miss the opportunity that presented itself because of the fears associated with the assumptions that they made before it even happened. A rare few embrace the light and work it to their advantage.

    That’s the obvious part. The not so obvious part is when we define what we believe is inevitable or needed. I’ve noticed in my own life how many times I’ve set out focusing on establishing some means to an end. That means, be it a car or a house, or some other tool intended for a specific purpose, usually had a huge effort associated with its acquisition. Let’s stick with the house for this example.

    It started out as a need to have a place of my own if I wished to get married and start my own family. Like everything in this world, everything needs maintenance, and so the cycles of maintenance started not long after I moved in. Along with the maintenance my creative side kicked in because I needed to at least get something out of the burden of maintaining the place, and suddenly maintenance turned into a renovation. Then the ego kicked in and soon the space was just too small to achieve what I wanted to achieve. Suddenly I couldn’t entertain as many people as I wanted, nor could I get a quiet space to contemplate the next renovation or upgrade to the house, or to just forget about the house and all its demands. In between, the marriage was neglected and the upkeep of the home became the pivotal point of the relationship. Making ends meet became the focus, and suddenly the tool that was intended to enhance our lives and create a space for us to grow together became a shared burden instead, and created a tension that eventually eroded the very foundation that the house was built on.

    This is one simple and often relatable cycle that we go through. The inevitability of the outcome was entirely defined by our actions and decisions, or more accurately, our shifting priorities as we placed material gains ahead of what was initially important. None of that mattered though, because the moment it became contentious, it was no longer about finding a path back to what our starting point was, but instead it became a struggle for significance. Whose needs were taken care of and who was making more compromises. That’s all that mattered.

    Stepping back and taking stock requires more than just an arrest of the ego. It requires a desire to return to a point of sincerity and authenticity in our lives when we were filled with hope about the future, after finding ourselves filled with a longing for the past instead. Arresting the ego becomes easier if we believe that what we stand to gain is more valuable than having to swallow our pride. Swallowing our pride only becomes palatable if we recognise one or both of the following. Holding on to it will turn us into someone that we do not wish to become, because our self worth is more important than the value that others place on us. Or, swallowing our pride holds little risk of ridicule or reminders amongst those that we hold with significance in our hearts.

    While the former is substantially more difficult to achieve because it requires a level of self knowledge and mindfulness that escapes most of us, it is the shortest path to retaining some level of sanity in our lives. The latter, however, as wholesome and embracing as it sounds, means that an important part of who we are is still shaped by how we are accepted by others.

    Not realising the difference or the gravity of either will result in much stress and strife, as we find ourselves hamstrung between what we want for ourselves, versus what others want from us. And that’s an important distinction. Realising that even though others indicate that they want the best for us, their perspectives are often tainted by what their association with us means for them. This realisation has caused me to pause and reflect more than any other realisation in a very long time. Not only does it provide insights into my responses to the expectations of others, but more importantly it provides key insights into my expectations of those around me, including my daughters.

    Inevitability is often a cacophony of silent screams that we feel, but rarely hear. It’s only in the most quiet moments of reflection that it dares to surface and whisper a chilling note that shakes us from our deluded or distracted state, so that we might have yet another chance to course-correct as we trundle down the tracks leading into that tunnel with the inviting bright lights. Inevitability is only guaranteed in one single outcome, that is the final end of your current life. Everything else only remains inevitable as long as we choose to remain stagnant when we should be taking action instead.

  • Seeping Arrogance

    Seeping Arrogance

    No one simply decides to be arrogant, even though the obnoxious nature of some may convince us that such a deliberate decision was taken at some point. Arrogance is one of those under estimated traits that contaminate our character as we progress in our efforts for success in this life. The more correct answers we have for the struggles of others, or for that matter the assistance we are able to render to those less fortunate, or even the spirituality that we manage to garner in our efforts to be detached from worldliness, all lead us a step closer to growing pompous about our achievements or the value that we believe we add to the lives of others.

    Having anything to share is a step towards arrogance, especially if the motivation to share it is forgotten. I find myself grappling with what was once, in the not too distant past, easy concepts and principles to apply in my life. Being patient with those less grounded, or having a kind word to follow some tough love used to be easy. But this year has seen all that and more being taken for granted as I found myself immersed regularly into situations where my willingness to contribute was being abused, and my due rewards were being dismissed or denied. Rewards are not always material in nature. Sometimes it can be as simple as seeing our contribution appreciated, implemented, or shared further. Our egos require such fickle affirmation otherwise it becomes that much more difficult to subdue. 

    At some point, it becomes easy, and understandably so, to justify why endless sacrifice is not a worthy strategy to bring about the change we wish to see around us. A touch of arrogance, or perhaps narcissism is needed to maintain a balance of sanity. That touch relates to the belief that we indeed have something of value to share. Some could argue that this is confidence and generosity of spirit, rather than arrogance, but if we consider that such a notion is based on how we perceive our self worth, then I could easily counter argue that it is a belief that we have regarding our skill or attribute being superior to that of another. Arrogance follows very closely behind such a belief. The difficulty lies in recognising what value we are capable of contributing so that we give back to the society from which we took, versus assuming that the level of success we achieved was exclusively a result of our own efforts. Dismissing both and believing that we have nothing of value to contribute is an exercise in ingratitude, and an unhealthy ego, which in this context would be the antithesis of arrogance but equally destructive. And of course is the leading cause of depression and anxiety. 

    If I look at someone and wish that they were more like me because I think that I’ve achieved something noble or impressive that others will admire, then I’m simply feeding my ego by seeking opportunity to validate the value that I have placed on my own achievements. The more grateful recipients I find for my contributions, the more superior my contribution can be perceived, by others and myself.

    However, the fact that arrogance is largely a perceived trait rather than a practiced one adds its own complexity to the debate. As just one example, I can’t count the number of times when I was perceived and accused of being arrogant simply because I chose to actively resist common wisdom. For me, it was an attempt at convincing others to reconsider something that I believed was flawed even though they believed that it was a widely accepted truth. I felt a need to resist the common thinking because accepting it would not only compromise my principles about not following blindly, but also my desire to improve on almost anything and everything that I encounter. Of course to them, I was simply being argumentative because they assumed that my motivation for such a challenge was driven by a need to be right, or a need to be different.

    This makes me wonder if arrogance is ever truly arrogance in intent, or is it in fact a reflection of the arrogant nature of the one observing the so-called grand behavior? I’ve previously stated that arrogance is a defence mechanism. It’s a tool employed to distract attention away from a weakness or vulnerability, or to demand significance when we feel threatened. But within the context of this discussion, it’s that weakness it vulnerability on the part of the ones passing the judgement of arrogance, or on the part of the one perceived as being arrogant? I’m inclined to believe that it is the former.

    Perhaps arrogance is never one sided? Perhaps it only comes into play when the observer refuses to look beyond the obvious in order to understand what is driving the apparently arrogant behaviour so that we first seek to understand before we judge, rather than assuming that we’re better without even trying? 

  • Conundrums of Care

    Conundrums of Care

    Life creeps up on us. Only teens have yet to recognise this fact because the rest of us that have, are usually distracted by the efforts to hold on to that youth that becomes so elusive the moment we exit that phase of life. Despite the fact that many don’t ever mature beyond that state, being emotionally immature does not in any way stem the tide of entropy that beckons old age.

    Coupled with age is responsibility. Sometimes it is thrust upon us, while other times it is willingly courted. Again, our obliviousness to either process does not in any way prevent the process from being established firmly in our lives. All the obliviousness does is distract us from fulfilling our responsibilities, or at the least, fulfilling those responsibilities with due consideration. As we grow, we acquire new things. With each new thing comes the requirement to maintain or improve.

    I recall moving into my first place after leaving the family home, and I was fixated on having a sparse setting. In my mind, all I envisioned was a space that had wooden floors, a mini high quality sound system in one end of the room, big airy windows letting the sun pour in as the only source of warmth, both temperature and tone, with crisp white walls and a low futon bed to sleep on. That was it. I didn’t have a need for a TV, fancy furnishings, or anything else to express who I was, or what space I wanted to occupy in this world. To me, that defined me sufficiently.

    Then I got married, and the need to make the home more comfortable for more than just me meant additional furnishings, more elaborate items, and colour coordinating embellishments. Even with that change, by most standards, we kept it minimalist, and it worked for us. With marriage comes extended families, and so the furnishings needed to be updated to allow for guests, and to create a welcoming atmosphere in the home. Suddenly, through the gradual evolution of this growth cycle, I went from my sparse setting to what was by comparison, a lot of clutter. Each piece of the clutter carried its own demands for maintenance as it fulfilled its own purpose for being there. Because it had purpose, the maintenance became a responsibility, because in the absence of such maintenance, it became an eyesore, or worse, it detracted from the welcoming atmosphere with which we wanted to greet our guests. That was the state of my life many decades ago.

    Jump ahead a few decades later, a few relationships later, kids of my own, and a growing extended family, and all that was needed then is multiplied tenfold now. With all that maintenance, responsibility, and clutter that accumulated, I found myself needing outlets for creative expression so that my space was not only about welcoming others, but so that it also offered a welcoming repose for me. My hobbies in DIY and other similar exploits welcomed its own clutter, and now I find myself having to set aside time to clear the clutter, create order, and make space for thinking so that I don’t feel overwhelmed when I consider doing anything as part of that creative expression that is needed.

    And then the pause. Sometimes erroneously referred to as a mid-life crisis, even though it doesn’t always hit you at the requisite age of a mid-life crisis. The pause that is needed to reflect on why all of this is needed, or wanted. The pause that is needed to determine what caused me to veer so far off from that original goal of keeping it simple, minimalist, and clinically practical with an abundance of space and a very small dose of maintenance and responsibility. It didn’t take long before the realisation of those self-sustaining cycles dawned on me. I moved from one reality to the next, to the next, until eventually, responding to new realities with the principles and convictions that I maintained dictated that with each opportunity to contribute towards others, I found myself acquiring stuff, trinkets, comforts, and more, all with the objective of striking a balance between purpose, practicality, indulgence, and expression.

    I know I am not unique in this way. I see it with everyone else around me as well. However, most are so caught up in that self-sustaining cycle that they forget what their point of departure was, and what semi-conscious choices they made along the way to arrive at the point they’re at. By losing sight of it all, it’s easy to slide into a state of simply improving what you have under the guise of wanting to maintain or enhance your quality of life. However, what defines that quality of life often escapes us as we respond to triggers that have grown to define our sense of accomplishment, or more accurately, our self worth. How we are perceived, and how well we navigate the self-sustaining cycle becomes our measure of success, and that is how we lose sight of the ambitions and goals of our youth.

    The pause that enables that realisation is the same pause that either welcomes old age, or prompts us to reconnect with our youthful passions. Most embrace old age, again through a semi-conscious decision that hides the realities that go with such a choice. Those realities include giving up control, giving up independence, and often most importantly, giving up a passion for life. There is a distinct difference between growing old gracefully, and aging. Most of us age, as we are expected to do so by society. We actively plan to have no purpose by seeing retirement as a final achievement that defines our fulfilment of our promises to those around us. That’s when the entitlement sets in, and the passion and purpose fades.

    But none of this was the original intent of this post. Instead, what triggered this post was a discussion with a mutually afflicted individual grappling with the conundrum of caring for a parent that was caught between desiring independence, recognising their dependence, and resisting the reality of both. In contemplating how our parents arrived at this point in life, I pondered over the above cycles and phases of life that we go through as we find our lives taking a shape of their own, and obligation or commitment, or perhaps even neediness guides us to become so entrenched in the cycle, that eventually the cycle defines our purpose in life, rather than being an enabler for a greater purpose.

    When that happens, the cycle eventually discards us the moment we choose to exit from it. That is when we grow into a state of dependence while not wanting to be a burden. Not because we are a burden, but because we still desire to be at the helm of the cycle, rather than a recipient of it. But even that doesn’t adequately define the troubled state that we find ourselves in at that point in life.

    I always picture life as a baton that we carry until we have to pass it on. Each time we pass it on, we are presented with a new baton that we carry for the next part of the journey. As long as we perceive those points of exchange positively, like moving from being an unemployed youth to an employed adult, to a married adult, to a professional married adult, and so on, we embrace each exchange of the baton because we believe that it defines progress and success. What we fail to notice is that each time we do this, the focus is on how we are perceived relative to the definitions of success to which we collectively subscribe. That not only defines our perceptions of how others see us, it also defines our perceptions of ourselves. Hence the scourge of depression these days. Ingratitude is the only natural outcome of such an unhealthy perspective.

    What that means when we reach old age is that the definitions of true success would have eluded us for so long, that when we are faced with the opportunity of achieving the greater goals in life, we’ll find ourselves receding in the belief that our ability to contribute in kind and no longer in cash means that we are no longer of value to those around us. This is when we find ourselves wanting to be a part of the lives of our offspring or our extended families, but restraining ourselves from such participation because we don’t want to impose in what should be their personal space. Not wanting to impose leaves us feeling like a burden, even though such imposition may be desired by those around us. It gets even more complicated when we realise that those two extremes are the only points of reference we have any longer. That is, to be included, or to remain excluded for what we perceive to be the benefit of others. Neither is healthy.

    Our consideration should never be about whether or not we should impose or be imposed upon. It should be about value. The value we contribute with our presence, and the value we get from the presence of others. That value must never be measured monetary or materialistic goals. Instead, it is the value of wisdom and compassion that we impart in those relationships that become invaluable in guiding the next generations through the self-sustaining cycle that will drown them if they don’t have a model of wholesomeness towards which to aspire.

    And that, in essence, is the crux of our existence. When we become so fixated on material contributions to the comforts and well-being of those around us, we lose sight of the fact that our sincere guidance and good counsel is infinitely more important to inspire others to rise above the drudgery of a materialistic and consumerist way of life. Giving meaning to the self-sustaining cycle in a way that does not feed its materialistic definitions of success is the greatest gift we could ever impart to anyone, be they family or strangers. We deny others the value of such wisdom when we retract from not wanting to be a burden, or we impose from wanting to be significant, because both motivations are centred in the misconception of self-preservation rather than wholesome contribution.

    The ugly truth is that we only adopt such a view of our inclusion in the lives of those we assume we are burdening when we begin to believe that we are burdensome. We become burdensome when we stop serving a purpose greater than the fulfilment of our own needs, and instead, seek to have our needs fulfilled by others. This conundrum becomes ever more complex when we contemplate the egos that are at play, both from the aged that wish not to be a burden, and from the young ones that consider them a burden when the expression of gratitude is not forthcoming because the need to feel fulfilled in taking care of the elders in our families feeds our own need for purpose and validation in our lives.

    [This has been a very difficult and complex thought process to articulate. Perhaps that is why it has silenced my writing for so long. The bleeding of thoughts at the keyboard has been plagued by blood clots of distraction in recent months. I need to exit the toxic cycle that I find myself in. Convictions to fulfill responsibilities and rights can sometimes deny you the presence of mind to fulfill the greater purpose that contributes more value than the carrying of burdensome responsibilities ever could. And so the rabbit hole of yet another thought process beckons.]

  • I Am Enough

    I noticed an affirmation posted in someone’s workspace recently. I’m not one for affirmations, so I usually don’t pay much attention to such things. Psychosomaticism (if there is such a word) works if you’re not aware of where you’re at. Affirmations serve as reminders for what we should not be doing, but seldom, if ever does it serve to confirm why we should not be doing it. Some would tell themselves that they’re at peace with the universe and the universe is full of love, and then they turn on the news and realise that it’s not true. But holding on to the affirmation is the only handhold of sanity that they have, so they repeat the mantra just like Joseph Goebbels said they should. You know, if you repeat a lie often enough, it becomes accepted as truth.

    The reason this affirmation caught my attention is because it immediately prompted me with a somewhat disturbing question. The affirmation simply read, “I am enough”. The question it prompted was, “At which point did you convince yourself that you were not enough?”

    It’s this dissonance (at the risk of sounding aloof) that confuses me about human nature. We constantly look for reasons to pacify ourselves about our current state, but rarely seek  to actively change that state. It’s as if we have given up our agency (another aloof term) in favour of being nurtured. Not nurtured in a healthy and wholesome way, but rather in the way that a victim needs to be consoled even though they may have been party to the distress that they experienced.

    Each moment that we spend convincing ourselves that we’re out of control, we establish reasons to compensate for that through distractions. Yes, we cannot change what we’re presented with in life. But only to a point. This reminds me of one of my favourite analogies. If you poke a stick into a beehive, don’t complain when you get stung. Similarly, if we choose to be ignorant of these hives of consequences around us, and instead wander naively from one life experience to the next, we should not complain when what we receive is not what we wanted.

    Life becomes complicated and exceedingly overbearing when we feel subjected to the circumstances around us, while refusing to accept our accountability to act in spite of it. Stated more simply, there is no joy to be had from waiting for another to rescue us, while we willingly step into that pit of quicksand.

    Again, the failing of this accelerated pace of development that we’re experiencing as a result of the so-called fourth industrial revolution is that we are spoiled for choice in how to distract ourselves from what is important, or more importantly, from what makes us feel uncomfortable. Change, or accountability (often both) is what causes us to feel uneasy as we lazily observe the world through social media. Social media is not the problem in this case. What we believe we need from it is the important part.

    Problem is, most don’t know what they need, they only know what makes them feel good. It’s like we’re all suddenly Pavlov’s dog waiting for that next ‘like’ or that unread badge count to go up because we’ve replaced human connection with electronic communication. Nothing replaces the energy felt between two humans connecting. It doesn’t have to be a physical connection either. It’s simply a connection of conviction and aspiration. Two people looking in the same direction and believing, with conviction, in the myriad of possibilities waiting to be realised.

    However, one of the most daunting realities these days appears to be trust. The one thing that we once gave without thinking now becomes something we withhold until proven worthy. Connecting over a digital device gives us control over the level of trust we allow, or accept. Those that venture into this domain blindly give trust blindly and are subsequently destroyed when what they said in private becomes the next viral sensation on the internet.

    It all comes back to one simple, but very elusive point. Know yourself. Be mindful. Embrace accountability. They’re all one and the same, even though academics and motivational speakers will have you believe they’re not. When you know who you are, are willing to question why you’re not where you wish you were, and are willing to take accountability for where you’re at, you will know that you are enough because that is how far you chose to push yourself. Anything beyond that point is directly related to the effort you put in towards achieving it, and almost equally, the effort you put into letting go of that which no longer serves your aspirations as a human being.

    Everything else is a distraction. The kind of distractions that leave us needing to convince ourselves that we’re enough, because at some point we didn’t realise that we convinced ourselves that we were lacking for no good reason at all.

  • The Psychosomatic Life 

    The Psychosomatic Life 

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    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]