Tag: appreciation

  • A Legacy of Beauty

    Reminiscing about childhood is a popular pastime. Idyllic recollections of a life that never truly was is bolstered by time that is kind to us . It allows us to forget the harrowing details as we protect our fragile souls from the harsh reality of life. Those that treated us harshly often became a memory of those who cared, especially when their harshness was all we had access to. We become captives of the weakness of brutes because our submission is the only significance that they may feel in life. I sometimes wonder how many realise that their self-worth is based on their ability to subdue others.

    Time creeps by, as time tends to, while I find the present moment to pale in comparison to my selective recollections of a childhood that never was. Moments of peace that were in fact moments of isolation, and collective laughter that was often exclusive by nature. I speak of this as if it’s my own, but the incomplete smiles around me suggest that it is a shared reality that is often denied.

    As time morphs the pain into beauty it also morphs the beasts into angels. Those that manipulate the vulnerable suddenly appear as the downtrodden when their loss of control is lamented as a betrayal of love or affection. I sit with morbid amazement as I watch kids who are barely teens reminiscing about childhood and the wonderment that went with it as if it’s a long lost part of their lives, and I feel sad. The sadness deepens when I witness how their recollections embellish events to make it more wholesome or inclusive than it really was. The disease of the adults appears to have transcended a generation that used to be symbols of hope. Those symbols of hope are quickly becoming reminders of despair instead.

    The torch bearers have handed over the soot but retained the flames that should have been passed on as generational wisdom to guide the next. The next appear comfortable to accept the association with the soot as a gift of love while not noticing it is the self-love of their captors and not the love of their captors for them. That distorted reality shapes a distorted world that they set out to change, not realising that their efforts to change it merely taint it.

    I looked across the bathroom at the mirror from behind the shower door and suddenly realised how many would see the mirror as foggy while ignoring the steamed door in front of them. Those that are living an assumption of reality would seek to clean the mirror, while those that embrace reality will open the door.

    We all need to believe that our contribution, even if not appreciated, is a wholesome one. When we are deliberately offensive or destructive, we convince ourselves that it is needed to restore balance. When it works out in our favour, we believe we were right, and when it doesn’t, we believe we were wronged. The selective views we nurtured through life in our efforts to establish our significance and self-worth betray us with such subtlety that it leaves us convinced that we’re the misunderstood or unappreciated while everyone else is self-indulgent and ungrateful of our efforts to uplift them. Accountability rarely features for the distracted ones because it erodes the fantasy that has become their reality.

    Our collective subscription to such distraction leaves us sympathetic towards this feeble state in which we find them. If they weren’t echoing our own weaknesses so loudly, perhaps we would be able to see beyond their feigned sincerity and disrupt the fantasy just enough for reality to peep through. But that would rob us of our legacy of beauty that we have to believe is our contribution to this world. Without it, we become that which we despise, so we find kindred souls that are equally tainted so that we are secure in the fact that any effort on their part to expose our weakness will be rendered incredible simply because the kettle cannot call the teapot black. In there lies weakness in numbers.

    [I set out challenging myself to write a post about something beautiful and uplifting. My alternate view of reality insists that I achieved it, because if anyone sees this as dark, they don’t appreciate my beauty that I offer so selflessly to the world. So the darkness must surely be in them and not in me.]

    P.S. If you can understand this ramble, or worse, if you can relate to it, I question your sanity, and pray for your peace.

  • Sincerely Dishonest

    I’ve always believed that dishonesty is the worst sign of disrespect. I just wish I could dismiss it as pure dishonesty that easily. That burden of awareness can really weigh you down at times like this. Being aware of what drives others to be weak enough to be dishonest makes it nearly impossible to shun them.

    The reality behind the dishonesty is that we’re weak enough to believe that the truth of us will repulse those around us, and so we create alternate realities to court the affection of others, forgetting what a dark web it spins for us. I can only imagine how dreary those quiet moments must be when we are faced with the stark contrast between our life and the life we present to others about ourselves. It can only tear away at your self-respect even more, which is the irony of it all because it was that same low self-worth, or lack of respect for your self, that drove you to create that alternate reality in the first place.

    I’ve often looked at scum bags, really low life schmucks that are blatant about their immoral or underhanded behaviour without any concern for the perceptions of others. I wondered as to whether that is a reflection of confidence or a total disregard for acceptance, or perhaps it’s the total abandon of hope in receiving any such affection which makes the entire purpose of their life a protest against the wholesomeness of that which they’ve been denied.

    Provide those same scum bags with a teaser of hope in being included in something larger than themselves, and withhold it the moment they edge towards it, and you’re likely to see a level of anger and bitterness that drives them to violence. Violence in such cases is the ultimate form of protest while at the same time being the deepest cry for compassion. But the risk of any such compassion being temporary or unfulfilled is so real based on the past betrayals of their lives that they are more likely to spurn it rather than embrace it, because protecting themselves from loss is better than having and losing again. Or so it seems at the time.

    But I started out writing this post with a very different angle to this that played on my mind. I thought that only the most deliberate of lies must reflect disrespect, because you can’t possibly lie to someone that you claim to respect. While I believe there is truth in that, I also believe that a greater truth lies closer to the fact that it implies that your disrespect for yourself is greater than your respect for that person that you claim to respect, and when that dynamic comes into play, you’d rather sacrifice your standing with that person than reveal the ugly that swims around inside of you. Hence the lie that follows.

    Our response to that determines a number of things about us, not least of which is our commitment to the one that lies. Are we invested in raising their level of self-respect more than we are in gaining our rightful respect and appreciation from them, or is our investment in our rights greater? But it’s not that simple, because at some point the investment may cause a denial of rights to others because we have a limited capacity, both emotionally and materially. So we find ourselves in murky waters feeling contaminated by the murk while also feeling undeniably attached to it. Pulling away to save ourselves spawns the burden of guilt or responsibility that goes with such a decision, while remaining tethered weighs us down because of the lack of sweetness from such an investment. Any sweetness that it may hold is on hold until our investment pays off. If ever. And it’s that gamble that gnaws away at us in the quiet moments when we don’t have the distractions of life to save us from its contemplation.

    I am convinced that the liar holds more self-loathing than any loathing we may hold for them. I also think that we spurn their weakness because it can easily spawn similar weaknesses in us when we find ourselves faced with difficult choices. In those difficult moments, it’s easy to justify a dishonest response because ‘everyone’ else does it, so it is entirely understandable. But such justification only provides some peace as long as we’re convinced of its truthfulness. That’s when we choose to surrender our principles in favour of ease, or we grudgingly hold on while also denying the reality of our weakness. That creates the tension within us that drives us to seek distractions around us, eventually leading to chronic ailments of the heart and the body that robs us of our sanity and self-respect as we grow older.

    My thoughts are almost entirely incoherent this morning, so this is my attempt at seeking sanity among the insane. I guess it’s also entirely possible that scum bags are not really scum after all, and that the true scum bags are the ones that betrayed their trust (probably at an early age) that resulted in their loathing for this world, and anyone that represents the warmth that they’ve been denied.

  • The Ebb and Flow of Harmony

    In every situation there is a provocateur and the provoked. I always fancied myself as the provocateur because more often than not, others lack the courage to disrupt because of the overwhelming need to be liked or celebrated. Popularity drives more actions than purpose ever will. Anyway, I’m sure most can relate to the setting where two strong characters clash because each is attempting to establish their view as being the dominant one. Sometimes this is understandable where both may have valid points around a contentious issue, but most often one is more right than the other, but ego prevents the other from backing down and accepting defeat. Perhaps defeat is too strong a term, because the reality is closer to accepting having learnt something new from someone we hoped would not be in a position to teach us something new because it implies that they knew more than us. Hence the ego kicking in.

    The same plays out constantly in relationships with significant others. I recently became aware of an awkward truth, or perhaps just an awkwardness that defines a large part of my life, and probably yours. Given that I am regularly drawn into contentious situations for reasons that are unimportant at this point, it was always easy for me to assume that it was someone else’s drama that I was compelled to resolve, or at least needed to resolve. While some of that may be true, I’m quite certain that it’s not always true despite what my ego may prompt me to believe. As I took a closer look I grew more aware of this phenomenon, and I’m convinced that in every relationship, and more accurately, in every scenario in every relationship there is one that sets the tone, and the other that harmonises that tone. As an example, if I arrive home in a flustered state after a long slog at the office and just want to be left alone, my wife could either insist that I give my family their dues and pay attention to their needs regardless of my preferences at that point, or she could create a space that doesn’t place those immediate demands on me, while also allowing for a distraction that defuses the tone that I set. In that case, I set the tone, and she harmonises it.

    The important thing I noticed around this is that both parties set the tone at different points, even though in some relationships one person assumes the dominant role more often, while the other is comfortable to constantly follow their lead and harmonise their lives around that tone that was set. The problem sets in when both want to set the tone, or both want to harmonise. That’s when egos are triggered, and demands for significance play out in cryptic ways that do everything but make plain the real issue at hand.

    The impact of both wanting to set the tone is fairly obvious, but not so for the situation where both wish to harmonise. I’ve found this to take place at times when the usually dominant one feels the fatigue of playing the lead role and suddenly steps back hoping to be led for a change. The other that was comfortable to follow and harmonise up to that point suddenly feels uncomfortable being forced into a lead role, thereby causing them to question their competence in that setting in the relationship. It also causes them to question the value of their contribution up to that point, leading to frayed tempers and subsequent upheaval.

    This may be a simplification of the dynamics that play out in relationships, be they personal or professional, but it’s a theme that is common and from what I’ve seen, consistent. If we assume that we only play one or the other, then we firstly undermine the contribution of the other, and secondly we grow oblivious to the true impact of our contribution to the relationship, both positive and negative.

    While it may be true that some are naturally inclined to take a leading role, I would hazard a guess that there is not a human being alive or dead that never had a need to be led, instead of always shouldering the burden of leading others. There is much comfort that can be obtained from learning and being led, but our egos often tend to prevent us from enjoying such benefits when we convince ourselves that we are expected to know everything or lead in everything. Chances are, those expectations are entirely self-imposed, even if others believe it to be true.

    Harmony is experienced when there is a mutual and willing contribution in equitable parts to a common aspirational goal. In the absence of mutuality, and more importantly willing subscription, the pursuit and the ultimate goal will always be lacking in sweetness. Perhaps this is why so many lead busy lives full of responsibility and activity while still feeling hollow and unfulfilled.

  • Genetic Convenience

    Some are born with a silver spoon in their mouth, while others apparently land with their bum in the butter. But neither promises a good life if you don’t know what to do with good fortune. On the other hand, some say that good things happen to those who wait, but I know that those who wait usually get left behind. Striking a balance is only easy if we know what balance we’re pursuing.

    Fate, as some would like to believe, deals us a hand that we cannot change. Those that have a healthier view of fate are usually not as ill-fated as those who surrender to the outcomes of the choices of others. And so it is with the silver spoon brigade and all the rest that have access to privileges that they did not earn, but inherited instead.

    But what does that mean for those that didn’t inherit such privilege? In fact, is such an inheritance a privilege or a burden? I guess it all depends on how well we know ourselves. And that’s part of the problem of a bountiful inheritance. It provides us with enough to avoid having to look deeper. It raises expectations of entitlement while distracting us from the reality of the privilege that we assume to be rights. We forget, inheritance or not, that rights cannot be bought, only privileges can.

    But that’s a side issue. The real issue goes beyond privilege and inheritance. The real issue cuts much closer to the bone. There’s a popular Afrikaans saying that (roughly translated) means that some people are made and then just left that way. And that is how many people live their lives. It’s so easy to blame our upbringing and our genes for how we turned out in life that you’d swear our power of rational thought and limited free will doesn’t exist.

    When I see someone behaving offensively and others excusing it by saying that that is just their way, I see the hypocrisy oozing out of their pores as they excuse behaviour in some that they would never tolerate in others. Worse still, I see the hypocrisy of crying foul at a degrading social standard that robs us all of our dignity, while we complacently condone the rot in our own circles that directly feeds that degraded state that we hate.

    You’d swear that everyone needs to be hit on the head by a falling apple before they understand the simple logic of cause and effect. If I bribe a cop, I shouldn’t complain when the president steals the wealth of the country for self-enrichment. Similarly, if I overlook the transgressions of those around me, or even my own, and I justify it with flimsy excuses, I should wait patiently for the wheel to turn, because it always does. However, we forget that the same wheel travels through the muck and mire of society and gathers excess as it does, so that by the time it revisits our little corners of delusion, it has a payload equal to the effect of our actions, not the effort of it. In other words, to state it plainly, shit rolls downhill with a snowball effect.

    Justice and harmony is not established in society by an eye for an eye, because the eye of a surgeon is significantly more valuable than that of a labourer. The eye of a surgeon for the hand of a labourer is closer to any concept of justice we may contemplate. And all of this comes back to one simple point. When we go through life feeling entitled because we serve our base desires before we consider the impact of our actions, we shouldn’t complain about the hollow feeling that visits us in those quiet moments when it’s just us, our conscience, and a failing body to keep us company.

    We reap what we sow. Simple logic. But not so simple that we get what we give. We don’t. Because this world, as ruled by man, only provides respite and a hint of harmony. Justice is not possible because most don’t appreciate the true gravity of it. Genetic inheritance is what shapes our character in our childhood, but living consciously is what shapes our being when we’re adults. Unfortunately, too many only outgrow their growing pains, but rarely outgrow their childish brains.

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • 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]

  • In a World of Worries

    I often wonder why it seems so difficult to write about the good of the day, as opposed to how easy it is to rant about the bad. Sitting in my corner of the cave, with a window facing the gurgling water from the pond just outside, I’m often focused on the mental fatigue that draws me to that corner while hardly noticing the calming effect of that water and the usual cool breeze that accompanies it.

    The moments taken to calm the soul are often forgotten in our distraction from the beauty that calms it. I wonder if the ability to notice the blessing that lifts the burden, rather than sighing at the lifting of the burden reflects the balance with which we meet the day? Are we so focused on what bears down on us that we’ve stopped noticing what makes the struggle worth struggling?

    Just trying to shift the focus in writing this post demands more presence of mind than usual. It’s easier to bleed at the keyboard than it is to spill beautiful petals of hope and resilience without the scorn or the rhetoric that accompanies a cynic’s tale no matter how often betrayed. So easily I find myself drawn into the darkness that offers some quiet. The absence of light is not always daunting if the darkness provides reprieve from the demands of the world.

    Every curious detail observed in the light by one driven to act demands attention, while every response holds within it the promise of joy or fulfilment. That joy or fulfilment is almost always incomplete if its essence is appreciated by too few. If the purpose of life is to serve a greater good, then what becomes of the fulfilment of that purpose when the greater good rejects such servitude?

    Cryptic thoughts are as exhausting as its interpretation. Speaking plainly is an art lost to me while being deliberately vaguely cryptic comes naturally in a world where such sincerity is most often misconstrued as an attack on the ego, rather than appreciated at the value of the beautiful face that it offers.

    I’ve seen too often how a good gesture is deliberately distorted so that the recipient is relieved of any compulsion to reciprocate. Those we wish to indulge, or we hope would indulge us, are the ones with whom even bad gestures we’d aim to distort into good ones. Seeing good in the ones we court is easy. It doesn’t require an investment in anything other than what we wish to receive, except where what we wish to gain is fulfilled within, and does not require validation from without. Achieving a state of composure in the face of ingratitude is the greatest gift in a world of worries. It saves us from feeling enslaved by the affirmations of others, while liberating us to enjoy the cryptic details that eludes most everyone else.

    Just last week I quoted Einstein to someone. If we can’t explain it simply enough, then we don’t understand it well enough. Perhaps this is telling of my grasp of this world. My struggle to articulate my thoughts reflects the challenges I face in trying to understand the multitudes of why, but comfort is offered when I consider that most shy away from the challenge even before reaching this point.

    The inclination to pacify myself relative to the lacking conviction of others threatens to prompt me into a similar space of complacency as those I despise. Perhaps I despise them so much because I am acutely aware of how even now, with this deliberate attempt to express the beauty of the world around me, I find myself consistently drawn towards emphasising everything that’s wrong with it.

    I walked on the lawn with bare feet the other day. For a moment my senses were teased and I felt grounded. I gazed around the garden and looked past the sprouting indigenous trees, and instead noticed the chores left unfinished, or new ones that begged for my attention. I walked on and paid little attention to them because the lawn felt so good beneath my feet. In that moment I knew that even the reality of this world and all its worries could not rob me of the fascination of that moment. But no sooner had that thought occurred that I found myself robbing myself of that which the world was unable to take from me.

    I know there’s an important point in all this rambling. Perhaps just that knowledge will make this worth sharing, even if the clarity of that point continues to elude me. Everything has an opposing truth, so perhaps this world of worries is simply the wrong side of the coin that too many are distracted by. If the first step towards success lies in acknowledgement, then perhaps this is the glimmer of hope that the realisation of the other side of this coin is the beginning of turning it over.

    [There appears to be no comfortable nor logical point at which I feel ready to end this post, so perhaps it is best left unfinished…for now]