Tag: distractions

  • Heart Strings

    There are moments that creep up on me that extract memories and yearnings that l barely recalled up to that point. But in a brief moment, those vague recollections suddenly surge forward with an energy that leaves me mute. Playing with my niece tonight rendered one such moment. The sincerity in the laughter of a child is enough to restore peace to this world. At least peace to my world. Ironic then that such peace would also be accompanied by some moving memories as well.

    I found myself recalling poignant moments in my life with my own daughters, both of whom were snatched away at a very tender age. It wasn’t the struggle that followed that left its mark, but instead two completely random moments that were unprompted and almost missed.

    It was a typical night on an atypical weekend when my oldest daughter was with me. It was summer, not winter, unlike so many other poignant moments that somehow defines my life’s collage. She was probably less than three years old. She had the cutest brownish gold curls that wrapped around her face. I put her to bed and continued with my evening before joining her later. I climbed into bed and laid on my side facing her. She turned to me, cupped both her hands on my cheeks and just stared deeply into my eyes. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t smile. She just looked into me and held my stare for a long while before turning over and going to sleep. I can sometimes still feel her tiny hands on my face.

    The other memory that revisited unexpectedly was on a cold winter’s day. My day started early around 2am when I received the news of my ex-wive’s unexpected death in a motor vehicle accident. I travelled to the township where her funeral was to be held hoping to see if my younger daughter was coping with the loss. At that point I was also struggling through legal battles to get access to her, so her only interactions with me in the years leading up to that point were stolen moments I secured when visiting her at her preschool before going to work. So I didn’t know what to expect. But that is just the context, it wasn’t the memory.

    When we sat down to have lunch that day she insisted on sitting next to me. It made me happy to see her still attached to me despite the time apart. We sat there having lunch when a random glance from me caught her looking expectantly up at me. Big bright eyes, the softest smile, but a distinct sense of her reaching out to see if I was noticing her. That was the moment. That look. Seeking inclusion, affirmation, affection, or acceptance. Or maybe all of it. All hidden behind that precarious smile. Her true fragility was revealed when I took her home and saw her frail body in the bath the next morning. Her skin was flaking from her body, and her belly was swollen from a poor diet. But even that sight doesn’t dwarf the memory of that smile. That infectious, strong, but fragile smile. Enough to tug at the heart strings of a brute. Even this one.

    Moments like those cannot be choreographed, but they can be easily missed. Distractions deny us the beauty of those simple moments. Perhaps that would explain my heightened sense of impatience when I find myself prompted towards that which is inconsequential.

  • Remnant of a Raging Fire

    The world was my oyster. I set out oblivious to the confines of its shell. All I saw was the beautiful lustre and the wild ocean that surrounded it. I set out to tame it. To leave my mark. I remember once witnessing a repeated bickering session between my uncle and his wife when I turned to my cousin and said, “We should show them how it should be done.” I was referring to marriage. We were cocky. He is in his second marriage, and me in my fourth.

    Life is easier as an observer. We have all the technology to be professional voyeurs pretending to be philosophers and activists, denying the fact that all we’ve become are armchair critics. But all is not lost. If anything, many surrender to their armchairs because of the heightened sense of self. If nothing else, the social web that we surround ourselves with has provided affirmations of our condition that was impossible just a generation or two ago. My observation of my weaknesses being expressed with passion by faceless bloggers gives me the comfort of knowing that it’s not only me. And if it’s not only me, then it can’t be my fault. There must be something bigger than us that is doing this to us, right?

    My perspective is sometimes tainted by this reality of virtual life. It’s that much easier to get drawn into the cycle of complacency and distractions, because losing sight of my drive to overcome my obstacles is easy when faced with the validation of my weaknesses. I see too many that are fearless and fierce in their defence of the under dog but struggle to hide the hints of their own sense of worthlessness in real life. The connectedness makes it so much easier to fill the gaps of life with the artificial reality of the other life. We now have three domains of life it seems. The real life, the other life, and the afterlife. Depending on your spiritual persuasion of course. It’s the other life that seems to dominate our attention span which leave the real life and afterlife quite neglected.

    Purpose and grounding cannot be found in a distraction. The shameful truth is that the more connected we are, the less humane we’ve grown. Real tragedies that we witness are easily transformed into notes or likes in the other life. Our desire to be the one to start the trend that others will follow for a few brief moments is that moment in the limelight that we have little hope of achieving in real life. The contamination got worse when those notes and likes started being celebrated in real life. Suddenly my other life gained the validation it needed to be perceived as real rather than as a distraction. So it must be true that my vents, my rants, my passion, and my fearlessness online makes a real difference. It can’t just be a distraction. I am making a difference in real lives. But why then am I still conflicted?

    I think the conflict arises when I leave my other world to dash out for a moment of necessity. There, despite my distraction, is a world over which I yield little influence. There before me is my insignificance staring right back at me. That’s when it occurs to me. In real life I am but a remnant of the fire that rages within. I am misunderstood, and often dismissed as a dreamer, despite those dreams gaining so much subscription in my other life. There is a danger in surrounding ourselves with kindred spirits, and that danger is escalated when the ability to connect with them improves in probability due to the technology that we have to facilitate such polarisation. It polarises us further. Not just socially, but we find ever widening gaps between our sense of self-worth and significance in our other life compared to real life. This shapes our behaviour in ways that will cause much destruction in our lives if we fail to notice the chasm that is forming.

    Living holistically has just become more difficult, despite the additional comfort that we obtain from those that see us without the social stigmas that we can so easily hide in our other life. Living online while existing in real life is a statement of hypocrisy that will leave us uneasy in both. The moment the distractions subside, the realities of each life appear larger than life, and in that, also more daunting. We’ve added a dimension to life that has enriched it, while creating an even greater challenge to be human. Suddenly we’re mostly able to help only those that are reachable online, while those that threaten our personal physical space are denied our indulgence or compassion from fear of them seeing us too clearly.

    Living mindfully is demanded more than ever. Finding congruence between each of my lives has become my new greatest challenge in my efforts to be grounded. My grounding will only ever be manifested in the realisation of being able to apply myself consistently, not just in principle, but in deed, in both my domains of my life, so that my afterlife will not be left wanting. The acid test for me is found in that moment of silence, when I have no technology to distract me, or people to cajole me, and the feeling of consistency or inconsistency descends. When I feel a yearning for one space more than the other, I know that I am a raging fire in one, and merely a remnant in the other. I need to rage in both, or divorce myself from the one that counts less towards my afterlife. But the investment in both is such that I am unwilling to forsake either, and therefore the only option is to ensure that I rage fearlessly in both.

    I often wonder how much more wholesome society would be if we were able to express ourselves in person with the same strength and security that we enjoy through anonymity online. I think it’s possible to achieve this. The equivalent of such anonymity would be the rejection of the opinion of others towards shaping your person. Leave behind the need to feel accepted, but instead nurture the desire to express, and it will result in you attracting those that are similarly impassioned in real life as well. The principles are the same, it’s only the courage that differs.

    (This is an incomplete thought process)

  • The Rabbit Hole of Insecurity

    I’ve always found that there is no shortage of people to advise you on what to do in life, but very few that can show you how. I see people telling each other all the time to be happy, don’t stress, be confident, don’t feel overwhelmed, and so much more, but every single time I’m reminded of how such advice is almost entirely pointless unless the recipient is clearly aware of what they’re doing to get them into that unpleasant state to begin with. But we’re so used to taking comfort from distractions that even now when presented with such empty advice we find comfort in it. Not because the advice is useful, but because it implies that someone cares enough to notice that we’re not in a pleasant space. How fickle.

    Fickleness is pervasive. But like I always maintain, pervasive ignorance should never be mistaken for collective wisdom. Just because we are able to console each other with vague gestures of compassion or concern does not mean we actually do care. We give more of ourselves when we share the lessons of the weaknesses we hold, or have succumbed to, than when we hand out trinkets of wisdom that merely embellish the façade of composure or success that we wish to present. Because that is exactly what it is. I’ve found that when I grow oblivious to my ego due to a lack of attention over an extended period of time, I quickly develop a deep seated confidence in my overt state as being the real me. What I present to the world I am convinced is in fact what I embrace within. Fortunately something or someone usually comes along to challenge that assumption of mine which leaves me unsettled enough to recede while abandoning my pompous disposition.

    The problem lies in the how. But beyond that, the bigger problem lies in our lack of courage to embrace the reality of how unaccomplished we truly are.  When we accept that we have achieved less than we were able to achieve regardless of our best efforts or greatest reasons for having been hampered in our endeavours, only then will we be truly open to learning more than the average life teaches us. I am constantly reminded about how late in life I am gaining the realisations that would have served me well much earlier in life. At times I dismiss it as being irrelevant because my mishaps and failures groomed me into who I am today, ignoring the arrogance that accompanies such a profession, at other times I wonder how much further along this path I may have been had I started out learning some of those lessons from the mistakes of others instead. That would have set me off on a firmer footing that I could have developed further, as opposed to finding it out for myself. It felt like life wasted away in those moments, but my gut suggested otherwise.

    I look at those that are gluttons in their search for knowledge and devour volumes of the sciences of varying interests achieving a state of professional regurgitation and eloquent verbosity, while struggling to apply even a fraction of the gems of wisdom that were revealed between the covers that they repeatedly cracked open purely focused on ingesting, with very little emphasis on applying. Perhaps what restricts our ability to apply the knowledge we have acquired is not necessarily our inability to grasp its essence as needed, but instead it is our insecurity in our ability to execute what it demands that drives us towards complacency, or more accurately, meekness.

    Insecurity is not only unattractive, it is repulsive. Quite literally as well. I find myself repulsed by those that are chronically insecure because of the burden of expectation and indulgence that they solicit, with very little to offer in return. The insecure polarise towards each other and establish circles of back-slappers that reassure each other about their distractions so that the façade they maintain is strengthened through collective practice. The secure ones are often found in smaller groups, if in groups at all. They are the ones that hold a conviction in their beliefs and perspectives which lend them an insight into the frailties of the former group, which in turn prevents them from seeking the validation of those that appear to prevail.

    The masses are weak. By their very nature they thrive on validation and affirmation. They reciprocate in great measures because the exchange is a self-sustaining cycle. It is possible to go through an entire lifetime needing nothing more, and that is perfectly acceptable, unless you are inclined to change the world in your wake. If you wish to improve the state of your self, and in turn, the state of those around you, being a meek member of the masses is never an option. You will thrive on understanding how you found yourself in that pathetic state that jolted you into action, rather than cringing at the thought of being seen as weak.

    The rabbit hole of insecurity is a deep maze that allows little light in. It sets us on a course of distraction that leaves us oblivious to the destruction or even the injustice that we leave in our wake. Courage is defined by our conviction to act on the values and principles that we subscribe to. Those values and principles can only be sufficiently formulated if we choose to see the world with a critical mind. Blindly following others is a symptom of disease. Not only does it rob you of your agency to act consciously, it denies those around you of the value that you are supposed to contribute in their lives and towards their growth. Insecurity is a convenient exit clause from the harsh reality of life. It is a choice, and nothing less. But because it is probably the most common choice made, we have fooled ourselves into believing that it is in fact human nature. If it were human nature, it would not leave us diseased with fear, ill health, and impotence.

  • Distracted Moments

    There are times when the idealistic bull that I see about people’s expectations from their marriages and relationships in general make me want to puke. It goes well beyond just a mild annoyance or a light giggle because it is so pervasive that it makes me wretch. The reason why it has that effect is because it is spewed by those with barely any experience in an unsupervised setting. People that have yet to experience life outside of earshot of their parent’s nurturing stares or comforts of home should really stop short of telling others what they should or shouldn’t tolerate or expect in life or their relationships.

    It’s not a romantic novel waiting to be cracked open, nor is it a fairytale waiting to be lived. Consider this…if the life you’ve been exposed to so far has already made you yearn for such idealistic outcomes, imagine how much more you’ll yearn for when you’ve had that many more experiences behind you which will open your eyes to realities you always thought belonged in someone else’s life?

    Every mistake that you thought you made just once because you’ll know better in future suddenly slaps you with a different glove concealing its cynical lesson that needs to be taught. Every foul-mouthed man or woman that you saw bitterly cursing others or their mere existence suddenly  becomes a point of anxious familiarity rather than a source of pity on a good day. Suddenly they possess the voice that is stifled within you but your cultural subscription prevents you from betraying the facade that is proper.

    Life is not a romantic notion that needs to be pursued. Every single expectation you have will be tested within breaths of you feeling that sense of accomplishment. Accomplishment and fulfilment will be ever elusive because the more you learn, the more you yearn. The greater the detail you notice, the greater the void you see between what you are and what you always wanted to be.

    Servitude, even if embraced with total abandon will not yield the fulfilment you seek. It is like filling that leaking bucket and at times you can fill slightly faster than it leaks, but it always leaks more than the sum of your efforts to fill it. That is how people are. That is how we all are. We only appreciate what is for as long as the sense of comfort it gives is felt by our fickle souls. Once that moment is passed, it quickly fades into a rose coloured yearning for moments to come that we hope will meet the exaggerated memory that we caress of lesser moments that passed.

    The longer the period between what has been and what needs to be, the more intense that slip into the slump of unfulfilled expectations. The very same expectations that we built on the exaggerated recollections of moments that we never fully appreciated while we were mentally distracted by measuring what was being presented against what we presented to others before, or what we believed we deserved in the first place. And so the beauty of the moment is lost, but whose loss is only ever truly grasped in grey moments that finally allow us to be detached from the distractions of that moment for long enough to realise the truth of what we didn’t notice.

    Regret always comes too late. Idealism just ensures that when it arrives, it is accompanied with the tunes of the ballads that stir that longing for what has been so that we are consistently distracted from what is, while stupidly yearning for what will never be.

  • Apparently, it’s my birthday…

    Everyone knows my disdain for such an occasion, yet most still find reason to wish me for it. I’m not sure if that is a testament to their sincerity, or do they just like taunting me. In fact, the latter is probably entirely called for given how often I enjoy taking digs at others about literally anything and everything. My only contention is that this should not be limited to a single day in the year. We forget to celebrate life when we celebrate occasions, but I’ve repeated this so many times over the years that it’s almost starting to sound clichéd to me.

    So if you must, and I say that with absolute affection, then celebrate the advent of the beginning of my torment by meaningfully engaging with me about the things that I am passionate about. Read through my blog and challenge my ideas. Test the veracity of the logic that I proclaim and force me to consider a fresh perspective. Give me a reason to believe that what I am passionate about contributing is in fact a meaningful contribution, and if it’s not, then show me the kindness of making me aware of it so that I may redirect my energies towards that which is more valuable, rather than continuing to ramble about inane philosophical ideals that merely tickle our curiosity but sways none towards a wholesome existence.

    The prompted gift is laced with doubt, but the unexpected gift is smothered in sincerity. Birthdays and other similar occasions that are intended to celebrate our appreciation for those around us simply distract us from their worth the rest of the year. I want to be remembered in a fleeting moment when something that touches you reminds you of me because I may have contributed to that moment of beauty in a way that I might not be aware of. I want to be remembered because when you made that tough decision, you recalled a perspective that I shared with you which empowered you to rise above your struggles and instead saw the opportunity for growth and fulfiment which made my failure meaningful rather than futile.

    Don’t remember me because the occasion calls for it, remember me because my memory calls for an occasion to be celebrated. I don’t have the promise of eternal life, and you don’t have the promise of eternal time to reciprocate everything that you’re grateful for. So waiting for that moment that is prompted, or waiting for the perfect time, or the perfect gift only depletes that which you promised yourself you would celebrate by not taking it for granted. Life. It’s what happens when we’re waiting for it to happen. It is the journey, not the destination, nor the way points. It is every breath you take, not every breath that is taken from you when the occasion calls for it. The way points are milestones towards death. The way points are our moments of pause when we believe predetermined occasions are a celebration of life. The way points caresses our inclination towards procrastination because we convince ourselves that putting something off until a future date that is predetermined by others is in fact progress and not procrastination.

    Celebrate life with me, and let birthdays be the silent death of mediocrity and distraction, while every breath inspires every step, and every step is forward even if preceded by a fall. Wait for tomorrow only if today is not possible, not because tomorrow is a tag on your calendar.

  • The Distraction

    There are apparently books written about how to form habits, how to break habits, how to do things smarter, and so on, but I have yet to see anyone connect the dots between habits, efficiency, and life. Not just life as in a pleasant or interesting existence, but life as in the limited time we have on this earth. That clock that starts counting down from it’s first tick to your last breath. That’s the life that we need to connect to these habits that we unwittingly adopt in our lives as we try to figure things out.

    Some consciously form habits out of mundane tasks to reduce the mundanity, while others do so out of compulsion in their desire for order or routine, or more accurately, predictability. Neither appeals to me. For me, my habits are constantly evolving because doing the same thing in the same way for any extended period of time gnaws at my sub-conscious forcing me to wonder if I’m beginning to stagnate or not. For me, establishing routine or forming a habit lasts only as long as it takes me to find an easier or less complicated way to do it. In other words, I’m lazy.

    I’m too lazy to do in five steps what I can do in two steps. This is what I believe drives me to want to create order out of chaos, or to want to introduce efficiencies even in places where good enough is good enough. While it is tiring at times to find myself constantly distracted by wasteful efforts, I’ve recently realised that the more efficiency I create in the unavoidable mundane activities, the more life I have available for growth, or experiencing new indulgences, and so much more. And that is the connection that I believe we miss.

    We miss the point of how much life we’re wasting while taking the time and effort to do in five steps what could be done in two. Sure, if  there are other joys or benefits obtained from the long winded approach while achieving the outcome, then find six steps to do something that would take two. I guess I do that when I go on holiday. I’d much rather take the scenic route than to get there as quickly as possible. However, the peace and tranquility, and the beauty that I am able to enjoy when I take that scenic route is what makes my appreciation of the destination that much more enduring.

    So perhaps that is really the point that I’ve been trying to articulate. I guess it ties in with being purposeful in everything that you do. If there is no purpose, then you’re on auto-pilot and you may as well cash in your chips instead of stealing oxygen that could be put to better use by someone else. Of course such a callous view is easily dismissed at the thought of your mundane routine providing others with comfort in the predictability that you bring into their lives. The sceptic in me screams blue murder at the thought of it because I’m loathe to believe that such predictability is truly comforting. It’s limiting, maybe assuring, or possibly even remotely encouraging or aspirational, but certainly not inspiring. Damn, I guess even that point could be dismissed by the fact that sometimes the negative outlooks of others inspire us to be the opposite.

    So I guess we are the vicious cycle, aren’t we? Every annoying habit, every curious quirk, and every inspired moment feeds the cycle that feeds itself, and in turn feeds our curiosity or complacency. That’s all good at a macro level, but hardly encouraging at an individual level because it implies that the stagnation of some is necessary to inspire others. I would hate to realise later in life that my inspiration stemmed from those that achieved too little rather than from those that achieved much. I would therefore rather be distracted by the aspirational sights rather than the depressing ones.

    Alas, it seems that even in contemplating these distractions I have been distracted from the point of this post to begin with. The point I set out to make is simply this. If we pursue life aggressively in the desire to want to live as much of it as possible, we’ll probably find ourselves reducing the effort and energy expensed against the necessary, while our pursuit of efficiency and the elimination of redundancy in everything we do will become the focus of our life which in turn will spawn benefits for those around us in ways we never considered. Unfortunately, there is a negative stigma associated with a restless soul because the complacent and lethargic nature of the masses finds itself at odds with such an existence.

    With that in mind, I choose to be anomalous. I choose to be the anomaly that distracts others enough to make them question what may be wrong with me, which inevitably leads to them contemplating what is truly right with them. (This post still seems to fail at making a meaningful point.)

  • Elusive

    Indulgence in distractions is a worldly pastime because it’s desperately needed. Reality, for the aware, will always be excruciatingly burdensome. Despite my most enthusiastic efforts to convince myself that the reality behind the burdens is in fact the truth, and that the burdens are in fact the distractions, I keep finding myself sobered up by the reality that I’m wrong.

    Living idealistically while trying to remain grounded in reality is exhausting. Being the optimist around a bunch of defeatists is exhausting. People are exhausting. And so is life. There is a natural inclination for people to employ their innate ability of osmosis to drain the life blood out of those that they polarise towards in times of trouble, while reciprocating with nothing more than a meaningless token gesture or a materialistic gift. Most people live on credit, but they’re so focused on their material debts that they fail to realise that their contribution towards the upliftment of those around them falls far short of what they take, which leaves the real debt unsettled.

    The good life, in this world, seems to be acquired when our volume of distractions exceed the reality of our responsibility. It’s no wonder then that the sense of fulfilment or completeness that we all seek is so elusive. That’s the thing with distractions. If you focus on sustaining them for long enough they begin to appear as essentials, while the truth that they were used to dumb down assumes the status of an unrealistic expectation. I guess that makes reality elusive as well.

    It’s not surprising then that life is as complicated as it appears to be. But in that there is a rub as well. If the majority is convinced that this life of distractions is in fact reality, the minority that realise the fallacy of it all will find themselves at odds with the prevailing logic, which regardless of its flaws, will significantly influence the level of peace and harmony experienced by the grounded ones. In that lies the gravest choice because the realisation of something can never be undone. We can never un-realise a truth that we subscribe to. The only way to truly change our grasp on reality would be to find meaningful evidence that convinces us that such a realisation was wrong to begin with, or perhaps insufficiently informed.

    In the absence of finding such relief, the burden of reality as we perceive it to be will never subside even if we successfully distract ourselves from it for most of our lives. I believe that the moment of clarity we experience before death finally overcomes us will be the moment when all distractions will finally be rendered impotent and the reality of our lives, our excuses, and our failings will suddenly grip our souls. That final wretched embrace will leave us yearning for the life that we always wished was over while romanticising death, but the romance of death will give way to the unalterable reality of its finality. Such finality will not spawn peace or comfort for the soul that was distracted during their life.

    I am convinced that there is an important point in all this rambling, although even that seems to elude me right now. Perhaps it’s the fact that my struggle has always been pitted in striking a balance between encouraging the wholesome balance of reality and harmony while finding it necessary to spurn the actions of those that detract from such a goal. One of my death bed regrets will inevitably be my inability to demonstrate the sincerity and intention behind my actions, which is easily hidden by my intolerance for obliviousness.

  • Question – The Distracted Ummah

    eatandbeawesome answered your question: The Distracted Ummah

    i think the most appropriate way to approach this is to bring about a change in one’s own life, which in turn will affect those around us.

    I agree with you completely. The danger is trying to find a balance between this individual piety that seems to be preached by the conservatives, whilst maintaining a balanced and responsible view of our accountability towards our families and communities. Being grounded and self-conscious but knowing when to speak out against what is wrong. It gets even more difficult when we see our elders and contemporary scholars also towing the sectarian lines and the abrasive condescension. 

    Alhamdulillah, it seems we definitely live in a time when holding onto Iman is like juggling hot coals on our hands.