Tag: experience

  • What Doesn’t Kill You…

    There’s a few quotes that come to mind this morning that I doubt the truth of. One of these is the claim that whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. This is a lie. It is a lie of the worst kind because it sets an expectation that is unrealistic.

    Those experiences that ravage us most doesn’t strengthen us when we survive it, it strengthens our defences. Like Abraham Lincoln said, as adults we grow to expect that things won’t work out the way we want them to. This is not a sign of strength but rather a sign of tampered reality. Each time something hurts, a dream is eroded. What was previously enchanting will suddenly become taunting because holding on to an utopian ideal leaves us feeling naive and incompetent at times.

    Strength doesn’t come from surviving betrayal, or surviving heartache or loss. If that were the case, each betrayal would drive us further from wishing for death rather than closer to it. Strength, for me, has always been an active choice based on hard earned realisations about the nature of people. The only thought that has ever kept me sane throughout the insane morbidity of life has been this:

    Your actions are a reflection of who you are, not who I am

    This single thought has made it possible for me to drag myself out of the doldrums on more occasions than I care to remember. Strength does not come naturally. Weakness does. Being weak, run-down, and listless requires no effort at all. So the next time someone tells me that what doesn’t kill me will only make me stronger, I’ll ask them very politely to pick a finger.

    Some clichés are clichés because people were distracted by the clever use of words rather than the truth embodied within it. The point I really wanted to make in this post was that each time I pick myself up after being knocked down, not only do I have to consciously choose to move beyond it, but lately I’ve realised that every untoward incident in my life has caused me to be that much more sensitive to the innuendos that are often a prelude to my next life’s lesson. Again, the choice to restrain myself from acting pre-emptively under such conditions does not come naturally, but demands a level of mindfulness and conviction that is often not easy to realise.

    It then stands to reason that what doesn’t kill me does not make me stronger. Instead, it informs my tolerance levels relative to my capacity. That tolerance level is what makes me brittle because each time I approach it, I get that much closer to snapping. When I’m not aware of it being breached, I do snap. But when I’m mindful of it I find it easy to compose myself realising that the tolerance level is based on the accumulation of experiences up to that point, and is not specifically the current experience that threatens to tip me over. This is usually the sobering thought that keeps me composed when everyone else is ready to justify why snapping would be understandable.

    What doesn’t kill you doesn’t make you stronger. It simply makes you more brittle.

  • 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?

  • Tainted Perspectives

    Too often I witness people that are weighed down by life not because of the gravity of the situation they face, but because of the perspective that they stubbornly hold on to. That perspective most often feeds an underlying need that they maintain which is often based on expectations that they have from people around them. As I’ve experienced many times before, expectation is the source of much bitterness.

    Life, by design, is a vicious cycle. The only exit is death, but despite this reality being known to any reasonable being, it is the one destination that is most feared and often neglected. We’ve attached a stigma of morbidity to the reality of death even though it is life that deserves it instead. Life is what plagues us every single day, while death only plagues us once. Yet we hold on to life, believing that it is more deserving of indulgence, while ignoring death in which rests our ultimate legacy. However, taking a position on either extreme of this realisation is ill advised because it will leave us wanting.

    We are needy by nature. Through a volatile concoction of our needs, our ego, our fears, and not least of all our expectations, we sometimes find ourselves overwhelmed by the lacking sense of fulfilment because that toxic concoction is most often focused on seeking fulfilment from other beings not less feeble than ourselves. Those tainted perspectives are nurtured by our fears which are a result of yet other tainted perspectives relative to a specific life experience. Just as every experience results in joy or pain, every outcome results in an informed learning experience, or a reason to recoil and protect ourselves from a similar situation in future.

    But where does it all start? When is the seed sown that gives birth to the bitter tree that roots us in fear rather than an embracing passion? I suspect that the answer to that question is really irrelevant the moment we attain an age of self-awareness. As has been said, the beauty of the brain is the fact that it uses itself to analyse itself. For this reason there is nothing that compels us to suffer from the distorted perspectives that we inherited from the toxic environments in which we may have been raised. Unless there is a desire to achieve more, we will always hold on to less. That desire is based entirely on choices we make, but the choices we make are directly related to our frame of reference that we choose for ourselves.

    It sounds complicated, but it really is not. No matter how negatively indoctrinated we may be, we know what makes us feel good versus what makes us feel significant. Unfortunately we seldom take the time to notice the difference. Significance is based on how we are perceived, while feeling good, in simple terms, is based on how we feel about others. If our perspectives are focused on how others feel about us, we will inevitably travel a destructive path that will find us miserable and isolated even if surrounded by a room full of significant others. But, if our perspectives are focused on how we feel about others, we’ll find that we are forced to acknowledge and clarify what we stand for, which in turn will question our points of reference, which in turn will result in an awareness of self and surroundings that would otherwise go unnoticed.

    Our tainted perspectives are only inherited as long as we choose not to exercise our ability to be conscious and mindful of who we are and what we stand for. It is an ability, not a gift, nor a learned skill. It is born from a desire to want to know more, to want to be more, and to want to achieve more than the sum of our inheritance. That desire, I believe, is innate the moment we’re born. That is why the baby goes from laying helpless to crawling, to walking, to running, because without being able to effectively communicate, it is already wired to progress rather than to remain stagnant. It is for this simple reason that those of us that hold on to the past, or that resist growth for fear of failure, most often suffer debilitating diseases later in life because our bodies reach a threshold. That threshold is its ability to remain resilient in the face of the unnatural pressures that we subject it to. Eventually, it succumbs, and then we chase about sympathetically looking for cures for these invaders of our bodies, too timid to admit that it is us that our bodies need to be protected from.