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  • Giving Up

    I think we got it all wrong. I realised this when I considered the fact that it is impossible to die from holding in your own breath. We’re hardwired to survive, or at least to want to survive. Self-preservation has always been the driving force that created both good and evil outcomes in this world, so I find it increasingly curious to note that we get this wrong so often.

    There is an abundance of memes and motivational speakers telling us why we need to persevere. Hope in tomorrow makes the struggles of today worth it, but what happens when that hope does not materialise in a favourable outcome? Do we abandon hope, or do we question what we wanted in the first place?

    I paced around restlessly this weekend quietly observing these thoughts flit through my mind as I saw the reality of it echoed in those around me. Expectations contaminating and embellishing everything while most interpret it so differently. Rights and privileges. Who determines when they’re legitimate and when they’re not? Does a right become self-indulgent when we expect it to be fulfilled, and do we automatically erode the rights of others when we live with such apparently justifiable expectations? The rabbit-hole seemed endless.

    Quite unexpectedly, it dawned on me. Life is about giving up, not about holding on. Knowing what to give up has proven to be infinitely more important in establishing sanity in my life than holding on to dreams or expectations, or insisting on the fulfilment of my rights for that matter. I did not give up on my dreams. No. That is still firmly intact. But it has changed in shape and form consistently over the course of my life.

    I often noticed how my dreams or aspirations were informed by the celebrations of others. That which they celebrated as being significant became my aspirations. I wanted to share their sense of elation, or their sense of belonging, because I didn’t have a definition of my own for that. As time passed, I slowly realised how hollow life is when I followed the crowd, or worse still, when I adopted the goals of others as my own.

    This always created a lot of conflict within me because my base definition of life appears to be quite at odds with those around me. Or so I thought. However, what I have grown to realise is that most are distracted enough to only subscribe to the collective perceptions of success because they have so little knowledge of themselves. That’s the root of it right there. Self-knowledge is a prerequisite for balance, and balance does not always lead to peace. Harmony can be established from such balance, but peace is something considerably more elusive.

    Giving up on failed expectations holds more value than holding on to them at all costs. If the dreams of our lives remain consistent throughout our lives, then I would call into question whether we’ve grown as human beings or not. My views of the world at age 20 cannot be the same as my views of the world at age 30, or even 40. If it is, it suggests a wasted life. It suggests a holding on to past dictates and expectations without an appreciation for the ever transitioning landscape of life that continuously offers new opportunities and beauty with every fresh breath we take, if only we opened our eyes to it all.

    Not every breath is a fresh breath. More often than not we inhale to sustain rather than to live. This becomes ingrained as the only way to live because we’ve celebrated perseverance in such unhealthy ways. We hold on to bad relationships, detrimental mindsets, and toxic environments all the while hoping that our perseverance will pay off, but neglecting to notice how much we’ve discarded of ourselves in the process.

    The courage to give up on what is not good for us is often thwarted by the need to be right. Giving up is a tacit acknowledgement that we got it wrong, but because our egos are so focused on how we’re perceived by others, we would rather stubbornly persevere than to be perceived as a failure because we know that the likelihood of being celebrated as a martyr is significantly higher than the likelihood of being celebrated for being sensible. And we all want to be celebrated.

    That breath we take from fear never reaches the corners of our soul that needs its nourishment more than anything else. Slowly those corners become hardened and dry, eventually decaying and becoming cancerous, as we hide it from the world, but unleash its aggression in moments of intense disappointment or betrayal. We neglect our own nurturing because too often we believe our worth is only equal to the value that others place on it. We fail to see how the ‘others’ are equally contaminated in their self-worth and therefore subscribe to a view that is inherently toxic, while adopting it as a definition of our aspirations in life.

    Giving up on the appeasement of others in the face of conflict with my convictions has left me alone at times, but rarely has it left me sleepless. Seeing the world for what it is becomes that much more difficult when I hold on to expectations and rights that have little probability of ever being fulfilled. The balance I strike therefore becomes a combination of creatively seeking to express myself in a way that fulfils the rights and expectations of those around me, while simultaneously offering me a space to breathe. Half a fresh breath is better than none at all.

    When we refuse to give up, we actually give in. When we refuse to give up, we ultimately abandon the core of who we are, and any purpose or beautiful contribution associated with it, in favour of a contaminated contribution aimed at the appeasement of those that define our self-worth, the net result of which is anything but fulfilling. But the hoards waiting to judge you for holding on to sanity instead of enslavement to their notions of reality will always be a distraction that pulls us away from the path of peace, and instead drags us into the mud-filled ruts that they have accepted as home.

  • A Thousand Thoughts

    The last few weeks have been harrowing but beautiful. It was a combination of everything that is wrong with this world, and everything that could be right. It took me from the depths of despair and despondency to the heights of elation and then left me abandoned somewhere in between, drifting along my meandering path as I tried to make sense of the extremes I had just faced.

    My usual composed nature was too easily disrupted this time around. I found myself feeling deeply what I usually only observe with fair detachment. It was oddly uplifting while simultaneously jarring. However, the truth of it rested somewhat deeper within me.

    I have expended a fair amount of life in the pursuit of understanding the range of emotions that I witness in others, because too often I found myself unmoved while standing beside someone in a moment of devastation. Many would interpret that as insensitivity, when the truth was closer to oblivion. That oblivion was founded in the lack of any reference point against which to relate to what was happening around me. In the absence of not having been a recipient of a full emotional spectrum (for lack of a better phrase) it should be easy to understand why it is that some of it would seem foreign to me. For some reason, this simple logic escapes most people, including me at times.

    There is much that I have heard, learnt, and contemplated about the true impact of environmental and societal influences on our fragile but powerful minds in our formative years. I witness its damaging effects in my daughter who still struggles to subscribe to a code of morality and ethics that should be second nature to her. I also see it reflected in my other daughter who is distracted by a false sense of control while finding comfort in owning a space that is not yet fully formed, and by implication, not hers to own. I observe them as being growing human beings, but I am often reminded that many adults have not completed that cycle either.

    I thought that I was finally succumbing to hopelessness. I receded, allowed the fog to occupy my mind, while I surrendered to the approaching storm without even bracing myself for its impact. Fortunately such cowardice didn’t last long. What felt like a surrender turned out to be tolerance, or more accurately, intolerance. I realised that with all that I was faced with, I set out viewing it as yet another cycle of insanity given how many times I faced it off before, and gave up wanting to prevail in the face of it. That was me defining my tolerance level for the wave of bullshit that was about to hit. At that point, my own words taunted me. Tolerance is not the same as capacity. I realised that I had decided that I had had enough, even though I was capable of handling so much more.

    Emotions are for wimps. It’s a convenient barometer against which to determine the composure of others, but beyond that it lacks appeal for me, except where such emotional charges are harnessed and leveraged for effectiveness, rather than spewed forth from a lack of control, or a fit of self-absorption. I had my moment as a wimp in the sunshine, and I didn’t enjoy it. It was not about control, it was about practicality. The intensity of the emotions that I experienced in those moments allowed me to feel vulnerable, and therefore slightly more human than I am usually considered to be, but it did not offer me any value beyond the perception it created for me.

    I realised that in seeking to understand and be sensitised towards the emotions of others, I unconsciously adopted some of it for myself. I allowed my environment to shape me for those few moments, and it was unnerving. I came close to believing that I had finally gone over the edge, and that the conditioned responses I witnessed in others had suddenly become my choice of expression. Fortunately that resilience that has guided me through my life set in for reasons I have yet to fully comprehend. Perhaps I do comprehend it, but would rather not articulate it from fear of contaminating it.

    Some things are better left unsaid, and some things are better left unexplored. The mystique of life is lost when we seek to define and unravel every wonderment that visits us. Sometimes, to stand in awe is more powerful than to know the answer. Right now, I know that the realisations are far more important than the events themselves. What these weeks have proven is that despite my best efforts in life, there are some things that will follow its own course in spite of me, and there are other things that will follow its own course to spite me. In both instances, if my response is anything but a true reflection of who I am, I will be uprooted and any semblance of sanity will escape me forever.

    The slippery slope of life beckons, but I’m not ready to step down on it yet.

    [This post is deliberately vague, more so than my other posts, because I think the emotional tides that I surfed are more important than the events that I dealt with. The events come and go and change shape and form more often than the tide comes in, so to focus on that is foolhardy. It always made more sense for me to focus on the internal promptings I faced in the experience at hand, and that has kept me on an even keel when all about me were in rough waters. The challenge with such a perspective is that it lifts my emotional baseline above most around me. That baseline is the point at which my emotional disposition shifts compared to others when faced with the same circumstance. At times, it could imply that I am cold and insensitive in the face of loss when sadness should be expressed. At other times it could be that I would be fascinated with something seemingly mundane, while others look on unimpressed. The offset is awkward, but it creates opportunity for much mockery, and this is turning into a post within a post, so I should abandon this thought process before it becomes totally incomprehensible.]

  • Reverse Osmosis

    I’ve witnessed, often, how it is that two people start out being unique characters, but as time passes, they slowly merge into one, just with two bodies. At times this feeds the romantic notions of love where two become one, but at times it symbolises the surrender of one in favour of the other. Neither is bad, as long as it is a willing surrender rather than a surrender of hope.

    The debates about what to look for in a partner will forever remain unfinished, but the one thing that stands true regardless of the approach, is that the adoption by one of the other’s mannerisms or preferences is generally a good indicator as to who is the more dominant personality in the relationship. It also indicates who is more smitten with the other.

    I once heard that the one who loves less is the one who controls the relationship. At first I thought it was true, but I’m not so sure anymore. The depth of love, if measured on superficial expressions of endearment, will never reflect the impact on the wholesomeness of the relationship itself. Overt acts of commitment cannot be used as a yardstick either because it doesn’t divulge the motivation for such acts. But the point is not about being able to measure it, it’s about the net effect on each person involved in the relationship.

    The relationship where both partners are on the same level of emotional maturity, coupled with a similar level of self-esteem is extremely rare. Setting those rare cases aside, I look at the norm and notice a consistent trend. The relationships that last demonstrate a visible level of compromise, while those that don’t are usually considered a failure because of either or both partners being inflexible, or defining a limit of flexibility that they’re not willing to cross. It’s easy to view the inflexible ones as selfish, but that assumes that flexibility is always healthy. It’s not.

    Flexibility, like liberalism, can be unhealthy when you get to a point of compromising your core principles in favour of an ideal that you do not subscribe to. The repercussions of standing up for your principles may be so dire that you choose to begrudgingly compromise instead. As long as that compromise is a grudge compromise, it creates a tension that demands compromises in other areas as well. For example, if I were to compromise on something that I feel strongly about, it would automatically taint my interactions in other areas because my rose-coloured spectacles are suddenly opaque and no longer looking as romantic as they once did. The person at the core of the reason for my compromise suddenly symbolises my struggle rather than my happiness. So it stands to reason that any subsequent interactions that flirt with the core principle that I compromised will be strained or terse to avoid the core issue from blowing out of proportion.

    Reverse osmosis then sets in. Sometimes slowly, sometimes without you even realising it. In this case, the osmosis is the adoption by the stronger character of the traits of the weaker character in order for that crucial balance to be struck. Without that balance, the fidelity of the relationship falls into question. So the one more committed to the longer term outcomes may find themselves compromising more, while the one more smitten will probably see that as a token of love and assume that they’re on the right track to begin with. Such are the delusions of those that lack self-awareness.

    Life is about a set of difficult choices. The more polarised we are in our views relative to those around us, the greater the volume of difficult choices we find ourselves faced with. The less we compromise in our desire to hold on to our individuality, the more isolated we become. Isolation goes against the natural inclination of being human, and it’s in the face of such isolation that we bend and sway towards that that we otherwise would have shunned. That’s when reverse osmosis weakens us, but ironically tends to strengthen the social structure around us. However, a self-defeating social structure gives way to stronger ones. It’s like a cycle that plays out on different scales but with similar principles and outcomes.

    Consider the above within the context of the weaker character adopting the traits of the stronger one instead. Consider the social structures that are spawned from such osmosis and the impact that would have when it comes up against the weaker social structures. In that way we find the slow but decisive erosion of one cultural norm in favour of another. Similarly, the alteration of the culture and value system enshrined in a relationship morphs as we give way to needs in our moments of weakness, when the larger-than-life principles that we once stood for are abandoned to maintain the peace.

    Maintaining the peace has never been the true objective of such abandonment of ideals and principles. I think the true objective is closer to not having the capacity or the inclination to continue the good fight, because the bigger ideals that we thought we were serving for the greater good appear to be futile when the greater good abandons our efforts to serve it.

    [I started out writing this post to articulate my thoughts on how individuals regress in unhealthy relationships, but it seems my train of thought was significantly distracted. Perhaps I’ll attempt such a post at another time. This is therefore another addition to my pile of incomplete thought processes.]

  • Dystopia

    In those moments when purpose is blurred and distractions appeal, life passes by almost unnoticed. It feels like the hamster in the wheel, spinning away and amused at how fast it can go, then looking over and seeing everything that still needs to get done, stepping off for a few brief moments, and suddenly starts wondering what would make the wheel turn faster.

    The wheel that turns is not the wheel that moves us forward. It’s usually the wheel that runs us down and provides some relief from the illusion of stagnation. Or is it the illusion of progress. Ground hog day holds much truth in it, and I’ve often thought of life as being ground hog day. I see myself waking up each morning trying to do things better than I did it the day before. As the days accumulate so too does the list of things I try to do better. Each time I try something that feels new, it turns out to be mostly a combination of many things old. But the new experiences and feelings that accompany the effort provides the needed distraction to keep me interested.

    Trade in that wheel for a tail, or maybe a car, and suddenly I find myself chasing my tail while spinning that wheel in a more luxurious setting. Of course none of this makes any sense because if it did, it wouldn’t be dystopia, would it? Utopia doesn’t exist. We know this to be true, so it stands to reason that dystopia is reality, is it not? According to our friend Google, dystopia is an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one. Let’s consider that to be true for a moment and see what it implies for our sanity.

    Everything is as bad or as good as we perceive it to be. We choose to either see the good in it, or we choose to see the bad. Those choices are informed by our experiences and how those experiences made us feel. The more inclined we are to believe that we are able to influence the outcomes, the more likely it is that we will perceive those things as good, and vice versa. But at the core of all this still lies the fact that what is, is, and what we see is what we impose of our perspectives on what is. Make sense yet?

    Let’s consider it slightly differently. We tend to view life in a polarised manner, almost binary in nature. Things are either good or bad. Nothing is ever neutral. More accurately, we never feel truly neutral about something because if prompted to choose between good or bad, we will choose either one. I don’t know of anyone that absolutely fights for their right to be neutral, nor am I certain that that is even possible.

    So back to our perceptions and how we impose that on the situation at hand. If someone argues that the world is turning into a hell hole, someone else could easily argue that there is hope, while another could argue that it’s in fact already a hell hole, while a fourth could argue that it was a hell hole at some point in history and that we’re already improving it as we progress. Every single one of these perspectives could be successfully defended, but by definition, not all could be correct. Unless we consider each within their own context,  in which case each will be equally true.

    So what’s the point? I think it has something to do with who decides what is good or what is bad. Then we look at who has the majority vote, and that prevails as the accepted standard. Anyone that opposes the standard is considered bad even if their perspective is inherently good, but that good cannot be measured as good because the standard against which it is being measured is bad, but is deemed to be good. And so it goes until eventually we realise that dystopia or utopia are simply makings of our own minds. The blue pill, or the red one? It doesn’t matter, does it?

    I don’t think it does. I think that the context that we choose for our perspectives will always define our reality. That reality will never be the true reality, because true reality can only ever be gauged independent of subjective observations, which means that any social standard or system of governance is based on the oppression of the minority and the celebration of normalcy. Therefore, even in upholding justice in such a system, given that justice would be defined against the social standards that have been adopted by the majority, then such justice could very well be injustice, but will not be recognised as such because the accepted authority has defined it to be good.

    This transcends even divine laws within the context of this lifetime because our judgement against the divine laws will only take place in a reality completely detached from this one. That day of reckoning will be independent of our influence, and therefore will be immune to our perceptions. It will simply be.

    Of course not everyone believes in the day of reckoning beyond this lifetime, in which case, if the above argument holds true, it’s all an entire waste of time, and a massive oppression on all involved the moment we try to establish any social order or code of morality or any standard for that matter. Individual freedoms are automatically eroded, and in fact suppressed, the moment we choose order over free expression. Defining any constraints becomes an injustice, and the hope of any true remuneration for our toils and struggles is completely null and void, unless we’re left to act with impunity. But even that won’t work, because the moment we are left to act with impunity, we automatically impose our expression on others, in which case we suppress their expression, assuming we’re the more dominant, or else ours will be suppressed if we’re not the more dominant. Either way, justice in averted and balance, true balance is impossible.

    Dystopia. In the absence of a higher order that we collectively serve, dystopia is all that is possible. But to each their own. Welcome. Don’t make yourself comfortable. This doesn’t last very long even if you insist on inaction, because entropy is your best friend, time is a superficial construct, and balance is based entirely on a combination of perception and subscription by the collective, which inherently cannot be trusted for consistency. I guess that’s a sneak peek into the dystopia of my mind. It’s an exhausting place to be.

  • No More Than Me

    The above thought has morphed in meaning for me over recent months. I used to think of it within the context of kids with prince or princess syndrome and recall how we were never raised to consider ourselves to be anything more than we were. We were always smacked in line when we got ahead of ourselves, and we were always reminded that we weren’t the most important people in the world either. Sometimes that felt grounding, and at times it felt as if something was lacking from my childhood. But neither one of those inclinations of interpretation defined me. It simply was a truth of my life that I reflected on from time to time.

    More recently, I find myself veering towards seeing it as a validation of my contribution. It reminds me that all I am capable of giving is all I will ever be capable of giving, and in reflecting on this more deeply, it seems to be a definition that can easily ground me. Of course, the nagging danger of complacency rings true with it as well, which means that its definition of me remains qualified and not absolute.

    Strolling through the surf today, I was visited with a familiar feeling that I experienced too seldom in my life. It was that feeling I got on occasions when I felt like I was truly taking care of me. While I’ve seen the need to serve others as being a legitimate calling of mine in life, I have become acutely aware at times of my neglect of my own needs in the process. Not in a self indulgent way, but simply taking care of the vessel that I leverage in my desire to serve. I remember one winter afternoon many years ago, I walked some distance from my car and felt the icy highveld wind of Johannesburg stinging my cheeks. I wore a knitted polar neck jersey, and a comfortably padded jacket. It felt as if it hugged me and for a very fleeting moment, I felt taken care of. It was a strange sensation then, and an even stranger realisation now. But it was a simple fleeting moment like that that made me aware of the type of care that I deserved from myself for myself.

    Due consideration and reasonable investment. Not over indulgence or extravagance. The former defines the value I place on myself while the latter defines the value I place on myself over others. It was a fine line that I’ve seen too many cross, and my revulsion at their behaviour always taunted me when I even approached that limit. How I see myself is most likely a distant cry from the way others see me. Their reflections of me only hold sway if their credibility commands respect. Like me, the credibility of most comes into question, especially when viewed through ill-informed lenses.

    Knowing this to be true, I dwell very little on how others see me. I acknowledge their right to an opinion, and the need to express that opinion, but if it stops at being an opinion without substance, it stops being important to me even before they’ve completed expressing it.

    No more than me. That idea dictates that in knowing the truth of it, I need to know the truth of me. It will anyways be an incomplete truth, but like it is with life, all endeavors for perfection will remain incomplete. However, just because the goal itself cannot be fully attained does not mean that there is no merit in its pursuit. And so I continue the journey of discovering me, while being careful not to over indulge or under invest in the process.

  • Troubled Peace

    Maintaining composure, and by extension, achieving a sense of peace can often be difficult in spite of my best efforts because of the persistent gnawing of those intent on using me to express their rage at the world. Their world is often so constrained in perspective, that my small contribution to it becomes its defining experience. A failed relationship or missed expectation is all it takes to consume some to the point of total obsession. And it seems there is no shortage of destructively obsessive souls these days.

    One of the most persistent struggles of my life has been rooted in the requirement to dismiss the insistence of others that I am responsible for their woes without dismissing the reality of any rights they may have over me. It’s a difficult balance of trying to remain responsible and true to my convictions, while not finding understandable reason to simply walk away in search of peace.

    I can see good reason why many abandon the rights of others, not because they have no inclination to fulfil it, but simply because those that have rights are often prone to demanding it more than they are to fulfilling the opposing responsibility that accompanies such rights. One of the most important things I’ve learnt about rights is that it is always paired with a responsibility on our part. So demanding rights, for example from the state, without being a responsible citizen in return, makes the sustainability of maintaining those rights untenable. There has to be a balance.

    Balance, however, is usually absent in those that demand as opposed to those that offer. In other words, the demanders are the ones that operate from a position of expectation and entitlement, while those who offer are the ones that usually expect little in return. It’s no wonder then that the hand that gives is superior to the hand that receives (all debates about sincerity of intent aside).

    My troubled peace is found in moments when I’ve made peace with what has gone before, accepted the accountability of the outcome and my contribution to it, but continue to be consistently harassed by demands to compensate in cash or kind on a scale that far outweighs the impact of the outcome or my contribution. I realise that this post is probably cryptic to the point of being meaningless, so to state it plainly, those that place demands on others are often malicious enough to only be satisfied if such demands are fulfilled with visible duress on the part of the giver failing which the sweetness of revenge remains unfulfilled.

    The point I’m struggling to make is simply this. The smaller our world, the greater the impact of small actions by others, while the greater our world, the less impact the actions of individuals will have on it. This is most evident in those relationships where we make someone the purpose of our existence to the point where any disappointment becomes earth shattering. Consider this within the context of a failed relationship, and then consider the motivation that one has to exact revenge. It quickly becomes plainly clear how some sell their lives in favour of avenging a defeat that was their own making to begin with while blaming the ‘world’ for their sorry state.

    It truly is a sorry state, because not only is it a wasted life on the part of the one that is riddled with hatred and revenge, but more importantly it wastes away the lives of those who are making a sincere effort to grow beyond their failings because the puny minded cannot bear to see others progress beyond their own limitations.

    A troubled peace is found when only one party is focused on peace while the other is focused on getting even. A troubled peace is found when we indulge others out of goodwill, while assuming the best of their intentions, only to learn that their motivation was selfishly driven to begin with. A troubled peace, in the absence of others, is found when we’re at odds with ourselves. A troubled peace is what drives a restless soul to move forward, while it anchors a complacent soul in the past constantly waiting for the world to lift them out of their misery.

  • To Leave a Legacy

    I awoke this morning, looked at the sky, and felt the grey rain clouds descend through the skylight slowly dulling my senses. It was a good dulling. The kind that mutes out the noise and sets in the calm that prompts the mind to wander to spaces not often visited. This morning that space happened to be the contemplation of a legacy.

    As I laid in bed wondering what my legacy would be, I wondered if it was important to me. Is the desire to be remembered an indulgence of the ego, or the need for affirmation of a life well served? The cynic in me tugged at my conscience as I realised that even the need for affirmation, regardless of how well intentioned, talks to the ego more than to servitude.

    If servitude is a natural consequence, regardless of intent, is a legacy then not inevitable? As my mind spiralled down the rabbit hole I saw the patterns forming and the relationships unfolding. The distractions of how we contemplate being perceived versus how we’re perceived while contemplating it. But I avoided restraining or deliberately guiding my thoughts. Instead, I observed it as it took a shape and form of its own, similar to an out of body experience. It’s the only liberation I can afford these days.

    The questions kept tumbling out of that grey space, demanding answers, but only finding a mild curiosity in its place. I looked at the landscape before me, the beginnings of a desire to articulate a legacy, and smiled a small smile as it dawned on me. To be or not to be is not the question, instead it’s the inevitable outcome of a life lived, or not lived.

    My legacy will be my legacy regardless of how I choose to shape it, or define it. Contemplating it proves to be yet another distraction from living it. Living it, however, suggests that I have a sense of conviction in what is important to me, which if true, would mean that such contemplation would be unnecessary since my call to action rings loud and clear in my head.

    When that call is muffled or worse, silenced, I find myself contemplating more than living. At times like that I’m not failing my legacy, because my legacy cannot be betrayed. It can only be defined. Just by being, whether I choose to actively contribute or not, my legacy will be known for my contribution or my lack thereof. The fact that I am borne from a mother and not through mist means that I cannot pass through this world being unknown. Therefore, it is not possible to live a life without interruption or contribution.

    How I disrupt or contribute defines the quality of my life, and the essence of my legacy. I can go through life demanding to be known, or I can live eagerly seeking to know. Answers come to those who seek it sincerely, but I’ve rarely seen fulfilment reach those who demand it. So it makes sense to invest in curiosity as a means to inform my actions, rather than demand a reciprocation that is almost always lacking.

    Quite unexpectedly, I found myself reminded once again that this world is built for respite, not justice. My legacy therefore is not one to hold me in good stead in this world, but is intended to treat me well in the next. The paradox of life is therefore the need to serve those that directly distract us from our true purpose while maintaining a steady course to achieve it in spite of such a colourful distraction.

    Early morning thoughts can be therapeutically taxing, and what should be the calm before the day often turns out to be the storm before the distractions instead. Life is waiting to be lived. To be, that is the only sane choice for me.

  • Dancing in the Rain

    Walking through a curio shop, I saw a frame proclaiming that life is not about avoiding the storm, but rather about learning to dance in the rain. That sounds profound, and childishly innocent. But as life wears on, we grow to realise that it’s even more important to choose carefully which storms we dance in.

    It seems there’s a time for everything, and I guess in our youth, the rebellion we embrace drives us to live in protest of convention and oppression. However, when lacking in informed wisdom, oppression appears in many forms, including discipline and respect. Under such circumstances, the oppressors are those who leave us to wander without this informed wisdom while believing that our discovery of the world on our own terms yields wholesome adults. More importantly, it pacifies the ego of those adults that believe that they’re being kind and gentle because being the adult is too onerous for a fickle ego.

    Consider the above in a broader context and suddenly we have some answers regarding the hoardes of wayward teens that lack in self respect and discipline while struggling to figure out why life treats them harshly. In fact, the number of adults that suffer from debilitating depression and other mental hangups are on the increase as well. (Pile on the hate, I’m used to it).

    I look around me and see an ever increasing range of health support systems than ever before. The more we progress with medical sciences the less we progress with humanity. It’s no coincidence that by design, the medical sciences are also accompanied by a philosophy that focuses on the individual and not the society. We diagnose the symptoms of an individual and we prescribe treatments that are almost entirely individualistic in nature. It’s a self-serving cycle that is extremely lucrative, and therefore unlikely to be broken anytime soon. Albeit a simplistic overview, it provides us with a point of departure that leads down the path towards the erosion of individual accountability, as well as social cohesion.

    The cycle goes something like this. Our health is rarely associated with what we don’t get from those around us. However, what we don’t get is proportional to what we don’t give. But when we grow up not knowing what to give, we also grow up not knowing what to get. The result is a symptomatic response to life, not dissimilar to modern medical sciences, which drives us to demand instant gratification before wholesome balance, leaving us physically spent, emotionally bankrupt, and socially isolated despite having friends lists that stretch to utopia and beyond.

    And it all starts with the adult that refuses to be. The one that lives vicariously through their children. Who seeks to avenge the oppression of their childhood by swearing not to enslave another with the rigour of discipline or the burden of self respect, because in the absence of the two, we can do as we please, live without limits, and grow old ungracefully, with a healthy dose of bitterness and ingratitude not knowing why the empty spaces remained empty, and the home lacked homeliness. That’s not a rant, it’s a reality that most are loathe to acknowledge, because of the indictment it holds against us.

    Some storms are more important than others. It’s usually not the ones we choose for ourselves, but the ones we choose for others that impacts our lives the most. Wholesomeness is lost when we lose sight of the whole and replace it with a focus on the self. Homes are broken, kindred spirits are abused, and worse still, spiritual grounding is discarded. No wonder we constantly seek fulfilment through retail therapy more than we do from silence.

    [Yes, this is my projection of reality on the world. At least I have one to project]