Tag: appreciation

  • Public Service Announcement

    Public Service Announcement

    After the successful release of my first book, I realised that I need to consolidate my online presence. But first, I’d like to express my sincere appreciation for your support and feedback on my blog over the last ten plus years.

    I have recently upgraded to the premium services of WordPress and will be merging all my content from my blog (cynicaljaded.wordpress.com) and my author website (zaidismail.com). My new official domain will be https://zaidismail.com hosted on the WordPress core infrastructure, and all traffic from my old blog address will be redirected to this in future.

    If all goes according to plan, the changes should have no impact on your links to my site, or you ability to access all the old content as well. If you do run into any problems, please drop me a note at info@zaidismail.com and I’ll check it out a.s.a.p.

    I’m already working hard on getting my next book out and look forward to sharing that with you in the new year.

    Have a fantastic holiday and please be safe. The world has gone crazy!

    With gratitude,

    Zaid.

  • Fleeting Thoughts VIII

    Fleeting Thoughts VIII

    When loyalty triumphs over justice, chaos triumphs over peace.

    Peace is elusive when love for the self is preferred over love for others.

    Love for others reflects a generous spirit, while hatred for others reflects an insecure soul.

    Insecurity is founded in ingratitude.

    Ingratitude breeds insincerity in the same way that stagnant water breeds mosquitoes.

    Stagnation spawns insecurity in the same way that success spawns envy.

    Envy is an attribute of an ungrateful heart, while appreciation is its opposing truth.

    The heart left unrestrained knows no ethics, while the mind disconnected from the heart knows no compassion.

    Compassion is practiced more by the broken than it is by the celebrated.

    Being broken is celebrated by those that lack the courage for accountability.

    Accountability is celebrated in others but spurned by the weak.

    Weakness is only so if after exhausting all avenues and resources, we still cannot prevail.

    The will to prevail is inspired by conviction in the value of the outcome.

    Conviction is impossible without purpose, and purpose is impossible to achieve without taking responsibility for its outcome.

    Responsibility is a burden only for those that don’t recognise the blessing of the capacity to give.

    Giving with the expectation of receiving is not benevolent, it is business.

    The business of transacting with emotional investments rarely yields sustainable returns.

    The best currency for emotional investments is the act of paying it forward.

    Paying it forward yields no personal returns if you are at the origin of that payment cycle.

    Emotional investment cycles are self sustaining only if everyone involved subscribes to the same values.

    Value is found in gratitude more than it is found in wallets.

    Wealth holds no peace or comfort if not spent in the upliftment of others.

    Upliftment of others is only possible by one who appreciates their blessings.

    Appreciation for what you have offers more contentment than meditation or solitude ever will.

    Solitude is sought by those disillusioned with the world.

    Disillusionment dictates that all hope must be subdued.

    Hope is fleeting when futility is courted.

    Courting futility is a safe way to avoid ambition.

    Ambition is lacking in one who sees no future.

    Giving up on the future is only possible when we focus on disappointments and dismiss any reality that opposes it.

    Dismissing the good because of the absence of a desired outcome reveals ingratitude more than it does disappointment.

    Disappointment is tempered by gratitude, and gratitude is sustained by hope.

    Expectations is the nemesis of hope because hope disarms entitlement.

    Entitlement is the currency of an ungrateful soul.

  • Build, Maintain, or Destroy

    Build, Maintain, or Destroy

    The choice to improve our state has always appeared to be a default setting for human nature. Just like the baby that learns to crawl before learning to walk and then run, adults also seek constant progress with the aim to achieve more comfort or fulfilment in their lives. The nature of this world is such that everything, including the human body with all its marvelous designs is in a constant state of entropy. In the absence of entropy, no effort would be needed to maintain or to build on what we hold dear or true. 

    The desire to build on what we have reflects an appreciation for it, as well as an appreciation for our ability to create more with the skills and resources to which we have access. If we don’t appreciate it, we undermine its value, and in turn allow it to stagnate or deteriorate. Given the constant state of entropy, such stagnation while coupled with an expectation for things to stay the same reflects an entitlement mindset. A mindset that suggests that we did our part, and it is now someone or everyone else’s turn to do their part. Or we live with the expectation that once something is achieved, it will always be there and we end up taking it for granted. 

    When we take things for granted, it usually deteriorates or disappears completely from our lives. Take people for granted and they’ll find someone else to make them feel appreciated. Take things for granted and we’ll fail to maintain it until it eventually achieves a state of disrepair.  Remember entropy? Inaction on our part allows the destruction to gather pace because anything good requires maintenance. Anything bad can simply be left alone to continue its state of natural degradation. That is why when we want something to fail, we simply withhold our contribution towards its success, or maintenance. 

    But why allow something to deliberately fail if we previously saw value in creating  or maintaining it? I think the answer to that question is simple. We start to see the value of our contribution being more than the value of what we experience or receive in return. Sometimes this results in us abandoning this drain on our life, and at other times we keep holding on because we grow to believe that our contribution may not be as valuable as we thought it was.

    The moment we start doubting the value of our contribution, or in turn our worthiness of receiving such appreciation for it, the self-doubt starts creeping in and we start edging towards destruction. Destruction of the self before we destroy something external to us is usually the sequence in which it plays out. A healthy self-esteem never wants to be associated with destruction unless such destruction is believed to be necessary to destroy something that we believe is bad for us. 

    By the same token, an unhealthy self-esteem  will result in us wanting to destroy even valuable things because the destruction of good reflects the self-deprecation that we feel in that moment. When we grow to take for granted our value and abilities to contribute towards wholesome outcomes, we are more inclined to destroy than to build.

    And that is how we sway from building, to maintaining, to destroying, without stopping to realise that each state simply reflects our level of gratitude for who we are, and what we have. Instead, we find it easier to be distracted by the actions or behaviours of others in using their negative responses to justify our choice to give up on creating something good, so that we don’t have to look within and realise that we gave up on ourselves in the process. 

    Therefore, gratitude is expressed in a growth mindset, entitlement is reflected in a fixed mindset, and destruction is reflected in a toxic mindset. Each of which is a choice that we make based on what we choose to believe is true about who we are, and what we are capable of. 

  • The Burden of Choice

    The Burden of Choice

    Choice is that horrible thing we despise when something doesn’t work out in our favour, but it’s a right we jealously defend when things go our way. Right there is the crux of balance, but balance will remain elusive if we don’t recognise the choices that we made. That is not as basic as it sounds. 

    One human trait that is available in abundance is the trait of obliviousness. Not only are we often oblivious to the impact we have on others, we are equally oblivious to the choices that we make in the process. Not being aware of the impact we have is sometimes a result of being so internally focused on our needs or flaws that we don’t expect to have any meaningful impact on anyone else. 

    When we are so distracted by that internal focus, it is easy to assume that we are simply following the rabbit hole of our thoughts without recognising the decisions we make each time we arrive at a fork in the tunnels. Roads have daylight to warm us during the day, and stars at night to guide us. No, this is a much more daunting journey than that. We rarely travel by daylight or by moonlight when our focus is so intensely internal. That is when we are most oblivious which is quite ironical given that it is exactly such introspection that we hope to make us more aware of who we are and what our contribution to this world might be. 

    And thus we trundle along through those tunnels, bumping into others, sometimes torchbearers on that path, assuming that they are only there for the same reason that we are, but ignoring the fact that they have the same needs as we do. We all just express our needs differently. Right there, in that moment, with that assumption, a choice is made. A choice to engage, to trust, to assume good, or to withdraw and assume that there is no good to be achieved, or that there is no familiarity or comfort to be taken. Those are the choices that we grow oblivious to when we become so intensely focused on our journey that we lose sight of those travelling the same journey, or perhaps having travelled it already.

    In the process of living so selfishly, despite our best intentions, we discard exactly what we may be in search of, and then lament not finding it. Sometimes we are reminded of such choices but grow defensive at the thought of being responsible for our own misery. Surely my sincere pursuit of happiness and enlightenment cannot be the cause of my own misery? Why didn’t someone make me aware of it? Why didn’t someone say something? Why couldn’t they just understand what I was going through? Even if all those questions are answered in the affirmative. it does not change the reality of the fact that it was choices, well-meaning but sometimes destructive choices that we make sincerely and with conviction that isolates the very blessing that we set out to acquire. 

    Lighthouses and travellers. The irony of this is that no one is ever only one of the two for any extended period of time. The dance of life leads us to switch roles without even realising that we are. When a lighthouse is needed, we immediately assume the position because of our desire to breathe life into that which we find wholesome, or beautiful, but just as quickly we become travellers looking to draw pleasure from that same beauty and appreciate the calming presence of the lighthouse.

    If only life was static and predictable. It never is. And the dance between lighthouses and travellers remain a fluid exchange of choices that we make in that moment. The more mindfully we choose, the greater the impact of our choices on our lives. The more oblivious we are with the choices that we make the greater the impact on the lives of others. 

    In that lies the burden of choice. We are not only accountable for the choices we recognise. That is an easy accountability to accept. It is accepting accountability for the choices that we did not intend to make that determines our authenticity and often, it determines the quality of the relationships that contribute towards the joy and comfort that we experience in life. Neglect these out of fear of being accountable for causing harm or pain, and you will find yourself troubled by consequences that seemingly have no good reason to happen to a good person. And that, I believe is one of the reasons why bad things happen to good people.

    P. S. I think it’s human to be oblivious simply because of the scale of distractions that we are exposed to all the time. Therefore, it is in becoming aware (after the fact) of the unintended harm that tests whether our ego is driven towards humility and accountability, or arrogance and deniability.

  • Opportune Moments

    Opportune Moments

    Tonight I was reminded of many things. Important things. Calling them things undermines the significance of it, but such is life. It turns the ordinary into elusive extraordinary moments, and turns the defining moments into passing glimpses of what was or what might have been. I was reminded of something I read on the blog of a troubled soul many years ago. It said, quite plainly, that life has been one long longing for a place I’d never been. That’s what tonight reminded me of.

    It reminded me of everything that I cherished and romanticised about, everything that is fragile but resilient, and everything that has felt like it was always meant for someone else. There is a taunting accuracy in driving around with a number plate that reminds me of the divinely ordained destinies that visit us in moments of distraction, and sometimes in moments when we are so deeply immersed in the essence of it that its passing feels akin to the ripping of thorns from the deepest recesses of my gut. But there has always been a glory in being able to experience moments so deeply.

    I look around at the oblivious that flit from moment to moment each time only looking to see if they were noticed or celebrated in that moment, but rarely allowing anything of that moment to affect them in a way that tears away at their defenses. Control is often blamed on the need to be functional or dependable, but it is most often called upon when we would muster the last breath in us to ensure that no one ventures close to the most cherished wounds of our souls. Until moments arise that remind us that control was only ever an illusion. A state that we created by blocking out everything that we could not control, and convinced ourselves that if we believed it hard enough, it would be willed into truth.

    Abandoning control in favour of feeling my humanness is an embrace I savoured a long time ago. I now convey the image of control to others, because what they see is the absence of impact of the fickle ways of others, and assume that it is in fact a control of response on my part. It is not. There is little control that is needed when you recognise the world for the fleeting annoyances that it offers. When a response is not warranted, most interpret it as restraint, simply because such a fickle occasion would have exacted much seething on their part. Not feeling any need to respond requires no control. It simply requires an awareness of the futility that any response will offer.

    Such passion for righting the wrongs that none care much about is easily subdued and eventually abandoned in favour of serving the passion that promises to oil the lamp that shines the light that makes the darkness bearable. There is nothing so bad that there is no good in it. These words have grounded me, and brought me comfort in times of despair by prompting me to recognise that there is more to life than wilting away in the darkness in memory of a past that never blossomed. Life is too short for such indulgences of the ego.

    Everyone talks about how short life is, but never about how short their memory is when it comes to remembering this sobering fact. I recall a movie whose title escapes me, in which Mini Driver screamed at her father after yet another disappointing betrayal of his trust, and complained that he keeps taking her to the top of the mountain only to show her what she can’t have. Perhaps that is what life is about. Dreams and aspirations that drop sparkles on the path for others to find their way, while the road ahead beckons you towards adventure and the promise of all things beautiful. So we willingly drop pieces of the essence of us as we travel along that path, until eventually we are spent. Those of us that are fortunate are met with our final moments at the time that we have exhausted the last shards of what we have to offer the world. The not-so-fortunate find themselves spent before their final breath approaches leaving them scurrying in their twilight moments looking for hope or purpose, finding none, and denying everything that ever tasted like reality, waiting patiently for the taunt of death to finally cease so that death itself may arrive.

    Opportune moments are most often recognised in moments of good fortune. But as always, moments that remind us of the beauty we take for granted, or the companionship that we barely recall are the moments that are most opportune. It defines who we are in provoking the responses of our true selves in its wake, while leaving us bare and vulnerable only to the eyes of those that see beyond the aesthetic. Thankfully they are in short supply so living with such brazenness is possible without attracting the attention of the distracted.

    Tonight, I was reminded that it is not loneliness but isolation that breaks our spirit. Because as they say, you are never alone if you like the one that you are alone with. Isolation is what you feel when you are in a room full of people, all of whom are close to you, but none of whom truly know or appreciate you. Isolation is felt most deeply when you feel the warmth of an embrace so close that it sets your heart racing, but it leaves without being fulfilled leaving your heart breaking.

    There was a time when such expression was reserved for anonymous posts that protected my dignity in the presence of those that have spent much time and effort in trying to prove that some humanity rested within me. Only, the humanity they sought to expose was in fact humiliation they wished to impose. It makes others feel less weak or pathetic when they are able to prove that the strong have moments of weakness just like them. Little do they know that it weakens them even more instead. These are all opportune moments. Moments that define our contribution to the world, and moments that define what we wish to finally accept the world is able to offer us.

    Shame is only felt when the opinions of others matter. When those opinions hold no weight at all, vulnerability and hope become companions that walk side by side, with optimism pretending to be the mascot, and reality being the path on which we travel. Incoherent ramblings offer solace and repose, even though after bleeding at the keyboard the gravity of what was not will once again visit a heavy heart.

    Despite all this, I would have life no other way. Living in half measures, even when surrounded by ingrates and mirages, is no life at all. Fortuitous it may be that I was reminded of a quote from Shakespeare just last night. It said, “Life is but a walking shadow that struts and frets its hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” I think he got it right, except for the last part. It signifies everything. That everything only loses its value when we hope for it to be valued by those that don’t recognise the value in us, or sometimes, the value in themselves. Either way, rubbishing the good or chasing the bad is only ever a cry for sympathy. I pray that I will never be met with such weakness in what life remains ahead of me.

  • Choose the Bitter Pill

    Choose the Bitter Pill

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Authentic Toxicity

    Authentic Toxicity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Reciprocation

    Reciprocation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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