Tag: choice

  • 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.

  • A Choice Outcome

    On my way to work this morning I passed a student transport service that was broken down at a fairly quiet intersection. Young children aged 7 or 8 milled around on the pavement as the driver attended to the vehicle. As I slowed down I noticed one of the kids staring intently in my direction. Whether he was looking at me or the car is hard to say, but I wondered if that scene for him would prove to be inspirational in some way later on in life. Not inspirational in the typical sense of ‘I want to be like that when I grow up’, but rather in the sense that it represented certain goals for him.

    If I think back to my time in school, I recall similarly poignant moments that defined my perspectives or my priorities. It wasn’t earth shattering moments of ‘Eureka’ but rather unexpected sights or experiences that left their mark. There was a time in school when we were preparing for the official opening of the new school premises that we recently occupied. I was in the 6th grade and normal classes had been disrupted for several weeks already as all the kids were involved in some or other project relating to the building of floats or other decorative items for the event. It was then that I learnt how to cut polystyrene, spray the index tab onto library books in bulk, classify books according to the Dewey Decimal system and so much more. At one point I looked up at my teacher and asked him why it was that we didn’t learn things like this more often instead of sitting in class and studying from books all the time?

    I don’t recall his response, and his response was not defining either. What defined that experience for me was the practical knowledge and skills that I had acquired in such a short space of time as opposed to the endless boring sessions of indulging in theoretical and academic studies of subjects that would barely have any practical value in my life. I think it was then that my mindset shifted from the traditional methods of acquiring knowledge to one that is more experiential by nature. To this day I grow impatient and often abrasive if I find myself compelled to sit with textbooks or drawn out discussions about challenges that need to be resolved, and instead, I often aggressively prompt people in the direction of considering practical options or impacts around what we may be contending with. I think I’ve learnt to temper my impatience with some finesse more recently, although many would still disagree. Nonetheless, it has served me well, and if I had to try to pinpoint a time in my life when such an approach became tangibly attractive enough for me to adopt as my own, it would be that unexpected experience in school that was not shaped by the schooling system at all.

    In a similar light I contemplated the thoughts that may have formed in that kid’s head this morning as he stood there in the cold watching me pass as he waited for the driver to repair the vehicle. With every scene or experience that we endure, we make choices. Some are conscious, but most are not. Most play out in our sub-conscious minds as we shape our characters and lives relative to the circumstances around us. That child could have been looking at me and thinking what a snob I am, while admiring the humility of the driver that made a living from ensuring that he got the kids to school and back safely, and hopefully on time. Whichever of those two perspectives appealed to him at that point, that is what he will find himself sub-consciously polarizing towards as he goes through life.

    I think these choices that we make grounds us in our lives to the defining moments that informed our perspectives. The less mindful we are, the less likely it is that we’ll be able to identify these choices when we’re making them, and therefore the less informed our choices will be. While woefully simplistic as an analogy, it suggests some answers as to why some make destructive choices in life, while others choose more wisely. If anything, it prompts inclinations in us that we can choose to embrace or choose to question. Those that embrace without question are often victims to circumstance. They’re the ones that want to be seen as the brave ones that persevere in spite of their lot in life. They’re the martyrs among us. Always ready to assist even if such assistance enables dependence.

    Then there are those that question before embracing. They’re the ones most often seen as cold and calculated. But it takes both types to make this world an interesting place. The ones most endearing would be those that have a healthy balance between these two extremes. That healthy balance would probably be reflected in those that embrace without question that which is confirmed (to them) to be wholesome, while being pragmatic and realistic before diving into a mess to help a victim. While the choices we can make are endless, I guess the point of this deliberation is that the choices that most often shape our lives the most are rarely the choices we made consciously. I think that’s an important realisation that, if we embrace it, will prompt us to be courageous enough to question why we are the way we are. This is needed if we ever hope to grow beyond just the cycle of evolution that our lives inherently dictate. If we don’t wish for such growth, then perhaps we’re the martyrs we spurn in others?

  • The Ingratitude of Depression

    During the period in my life when I was diagnosed as being clinically depressed, the thoughts that pervaded my consciousness were always focused on what went wrong, what didn’t work out, why it would be futile to try again, and so on. I felt abused and despondent, let down and betrayed. I looked around for an understanding glance, let alone an embrace, and all I saw were judging eyes and detached hearts. There were some that acted out of obligation, and others that meant well but didn’t have the capacity to contribute meaningfully, and then there was me. Isolated in my thoughts and frustrated at the cycle that kept leaving me on my butt.

    The prescribed medication helped nothing except to give me a locked jaw and a dulled mind. When I emerged from my medicated state my reality remained unaltered, and my options were still bleak. It took a while before I realised that being a victim was a statement of ingratitude. As long as I saw myself as a victim, I discounted my blessings. Any acknowledgement of my blessings was always within the context of how little it mattered in the absence of everything else that I believed I was denied. I despised my state of being, and I was intensely unhappy with the way I was conducting myself.

    Despite it not being a primary concern at the time, I remained aware of the responsibilities that I had towards those around me, although it was focused on the material and physical contributions from my side and little else. Meeting people with a cheerful disposition was optional, and being pleasant when being dutiful would suffice was a state that I seldom chose for myself. My dominant state was one of being occupied with thoughts of my unhappiness with the world, and with those around me that contributed to everything that I was denied. Those that didn’t speak when their words would have made a difference I saw as cowards and hypocrites, and often as opportunists. But even they were beside the point.

    Remaining in a state of depression denied those around me of my non-material contributions that they had a right to. A pleasant environment, a sense of appreciation, a visible gratitude for their presence and contribution in my life, and so much more. It sounds contradictory relative to my complaints, but the truth is that even those that stay out of obligation contribute towards my experiences in ways I mostly only realise much later in life. One story that always comes to mind on this subject is from a workshop facilitator I met very early in my career. I remember him saying that his father was his greatest influence in life. His father used to spend every day all week sitting in his favourite armchair and reading the newspaper without any meaningful engagement with him. It was that persistent sight each day that inspired him to not be like his father. In the absence of that poor example, he may have followed the mainstream and never achieved any great moments.

    But more importantly, it was his choice to take something positive from that experience that made the difference. His father failed him in his right to guidance, a sharing of wisdom, healthy debates and meaningful interactions that would feed a healthy self-esteem, but in the absence of that, he did not allow the actions of his father to define him. He moved on and pursued a greater purpose in spite of his upbringing. And that is what remaining in a state of depression denies us. It denies us the ability to pursue those greater callings, that higher purpose, that vision that seems so beautifully out of reach. In our state of depression, we not only deny the reality of that which we have reason to be grateful for, but we also deny those around us the motivation or reason to be grateful for their lot as well. We will never exist in isolation even when we isolate ourselves. The very nature of our birth tethers us to the human race.

    But there is a rub in all this. As nonsensical as it may sound, neither is happiness nor depression a choice. Instead, they’re both outcomes of pursuing or abandoning a greater purpose respectively. When we lose sight of our purpose, or at least the pursuit of the same, we will find ourselves suppressing our needs for being associated with something greater than our selves, all the while convincing ourselves that we’re incapable or undeserving, only to be faced with the brutal reality of our betrayal while struggling to hold on to the last breaths of our existence.

  • Of all the things we take for granted in life, our power of choice is probably the most abused gift we’ll ever receive.

    Zaid Ismail

  • Choose Dignity

    After exhausting all avenues of treatment, my uncle and his family are now faced with the decision to either leave my aunt in hospital in the hope that something about her condition may change, or take her home and make her as comfortable as possible since any treatment she’s currently receiving can easily be administered at home. Inevitably, the first concern that was raised was how would they (the family) feel should something go horribly wrong if they took her home.

    I think that’s the wrong way to look at this. Similar to death, and I don’t mean to sound insensitive or morbid here, but the real issue is that this is not about the family, it is about the patient. This is not about appeasing the conscience of the family or creating sufficient disclaimers regarding their culpability in the face of a bad outcome, but instead it’s about giving an ailing person the dignity of choice to decide what circumstance she would prefer, especially since she is still lucid and competent enough to make such a decision.

    Consider the alternative. Should things take a turn for the worst, would anyone consider the fact that her last wish to spend time in her own home and depart peacefully was actually ignored because of the selfish (albeit sincere) considerations of those around her? Again, like death, this is about the person that is affected, and not about the effect it has on those around them. It may seem like a cold and cruel position to take, but in our grieving and concern, we often make things about ourselves when in fact it is not.

    We’re still hopeful for a positive outcome, but I wish people would start looking at this from her perspective rather than how it affects everyone else around her.

  • You could double the number of synaptic connections in a very simple neurocircuit as a result of experience and learning. The reason for that was that long-term memory alters the expression of genes in nerve cells, which is the cause of the growth of new synaptic connections. When you see that at the cellular level, you realize that the brain can change because of experience. It gives you a different feeling about how nature and nurture interact. They are not separate processes.

    Eric R. Kandel, Nobel Prize-winning neuroscientist.

    A Quest to Understand How Memory Works.

    (via storyseldomtold)

    The fact that the brain changes because of experience, as I’ve mentioned in several of my previous posts on the subject, to me, confirms that our study of chemical imbalances to prove the prevalence of psychological disorders is focusing on the symptoms rather than the root cause. But it’s easier to be a victim to chemicals than a master of your thoughts. 

  • Question: Depression

    cynicallyjade:

    thefemaleedward:

    People who think depression is a choice, take a second to think. How would it feel to wake up and not having the emotional strength to face people? To think that time is just passing by with no real reason? To feel so alone even when you are sitting…

    Unfortunately you’ve missed the entire point of my post. Having been ‘diagnosed’ with depression before, I’m hardly what you could label as someone that is insensitive to people that are depressed. If I said that depression is all in your mind and that you’re simply missing the point of life, then by all means accuse me of insensitivity. But if you read carefully, you’ll note that I challenge the common perspective on what depression is rather than dismissing the fact that it exists. So to reiterate my point, depression is a symptom and not an illness. The root cause of depression lies in our choices based on our expectations of others and life in general. Change your choices and your expectations and the symptom of depression will dissipate without any direct effort required. Trying to deal with depression is like asking an exhausted person not to feel tired. That’s simply ridiculous. Instead, you would ask them to exercise more, eat healthier and most obviously get more rest. Exhaustion would therefore be the symptoms of poor lifestyle choices, wouldn’t it?

    White teethed teens: cynicallyjade: thefemaleedward: People who think depression is a…

  • Fate and Free Will

    I often see posts of people questioning why the Almighty does not answer their prayers. Then there are atheists that believe that if God existed, we would not have so much evil and cruelty in this world because a benevolent god would never allow that to happen. All that this proves is that we have a power of choice and reason that we are able to apply in our lives to inform our choices, because it is this same power of choice and reason informed by our intellect that confirms that we are free thinking beings. By extension, this confirms the indisputable fact that we have a limited free will. Limited because anyone that has lived a single day of conscious being knows that we cannot control everything around us, hence our need to determine the difference between that which we can change, and that which we can’t. So we pursue the acquisition of wisdom that would help us identify the difference. At least that’s what we should be doing if we’re self-aware.

    Bearing the above in mind, why then would it be reasonable to expect the Almighty’s intervention in every unsavoury experience of our lives where we may lack the courage or resources to set aright that which is wrong? Are not the bad choices of some the test of character of others? Or do we believe that everyone should be good and wholesome and no one should slight anyone else, because then we’ll finally have peace on earth and all will be right with the world? But then, again, I ask you, what would be the purpose of our existence? 

    If not to exercise our power of reason and choice towards acquiring good in our lives, then what? If there was no bad, what would we need to strive for? Something that I’ve been more aware of recently is that anything bad requires no restraint at all. If you want to damage, destroy or eliminate something, it’s not restraint that is needed, but in fact a healthy dose of indulgence. But anything good that we wish to achieve or acquire requires restraint in ways that we rarely imagine when committing to a noble goal. 

    So it seems that sitting back and feeling like a victim waiting for the world to treat you right is a fool’s endeavour that will never come to pass. We need to be conscious in our efforts to oppress the oppressors. If not, if we cower in the face of a challenge and believe that we’re not worthy, we lose any right to claim fulfilment in a life fraught with suffering and challenges. Evil is not an incarnation of its own. It simply manifests itself in the absence of good. Therefore, it’s not evil that exists, but rather good that ceases to. And given that effort is required to uphold good, there can be no overcoming of evil unless we apply ourselves to a course that is destined to realise that which we seek in our own lives.