Tag: hope

  • The Projection of Rage

    There is very little else that enrages me more than the sight of parents that project their insecurities on their children. Parents that feel insecure about where they’re at or how they’re perceived by society and then over compensate by supposedly making sure that their children are not going to be perceived in the same way. The coward’s way of life is to live vicariously through others. That’s safe, risk averse, and effectively protects you from being perceived as a failure. That’s not life. That’s fear.

    But it’s not only parents that project such fears on their children and then raise sheltered or dysfunctional charges. It’s a practice that is almost pervasive these days from governments to organisations to almost every social structure we see. It feels like we’re living in a world where everyone has to defend their claim to significance, and those that feel like they don’t have one, associate themselves with causes that justify their rage at feeling insignificant. Countries that have military might will exact respect through force, or impose their beliefs through occupation, while organisations do the same through developing lethargic hierarchical structures that disempower while holding accountable those without authority.

    Behind all of this aggression lies flawed human beings that lack conviction or sincerity, and therefore leverage the tools and resources at their disposal to make a point that would otherwise go unheard. The climb to the top therefore becomes one of self-enrichment rather than servitude. It is therefore no wonder that those that occupy public office, or positions of ultimate authority, rarely use it for the benefit of the masses, but instead aim to benefit their revered peers instead. It’s a corruption of the soul that leads to a vapid life. A life that feels so empty that the only way to fill it is through the acquisition of trinkets and distractions, and the exercise of authority over subjects that have no means to retaliate or protest.

    The individualistic and narcissistic tendencies of the modern day interpretation of human rights and the rule of democratic law has created a cesspool of moral and ethical degradation that celebrates the implosion of human dignity. We’ve created structures and protocols that pacify our innate conscience so that we are not deprived of sleep at night, but we live the same indignity we impose the moment we find ourselves deprived of the resources we once wielded.

    For governments it’s a coup or a landslide defeat when being removed from power. For organisations, it’s the cheque book holders that dethrone the arrogant heads that no longer serve them well. For society, it’s the leaders that fall from grace when their morally objectionable behaviour that is celebrated in private becomes public. We only seem to be called to account if the common knowledge of our excess indulgence becomes noted by those perceived to be our moral authorities, otherwise turning a blind eye works well because we have much that we wish others would overlook as well.

    We’re a society that resides in glass houses. We lament the erosion of dignity and peace, but refuse to acknowledge our contribution to it. This is not a rant, it’s a lament. We’re so focused on appearances, perceptions, and reputation, that we dare not disappoint the expectations of those that need our fickleness as a yardstick against which to measure their own.

    Society, of which I am a futile member, have become nothing more than a projection of rage on that which we cannot influence, or prevent. We are enslaved, more by our fears of being human than by any system imposed on us. Authenticity is rare. It requires an embrace of who we are, and a conviction in who we want to be. Most are willing to settle for the facade, because the substance appears far too daunting to pursue. The path of least resistance has never been more appealing to the meek than it is now. It is therefore no wonder that we are meek in conviction, and bold in oppression, of ourselves, and those around us.

    [This turned out to be more cryptic than intended]

  • Writer’s Block

    I recently advised someone that when faced with writer’s block, the best remedy is to write about it. Seems counter-intuitive, but it seems to work for me. My problem though is that I don’t recognise myself as a writer. I vent through words, often carefully selected to maintain the level of neutrality needed in my sentiments so as not to offend many close associates that I was bold enough to invite into this blog space. That, and the fact that I would not want this space to be turned into a sensationalist’s whoring for attention. I think it works beneficially for me because it forces me to focus on the issues at hand, rather than taking an easy swipe at soft targets.

    Soft targets, on the other hand, make for an easy solution to writer’s block, if I were a writer, that is. The problem I have with subscribing to that label is that it assumes that I have writing worth sharing, or more importantly, that I do justice to the part. I ramble. A lot. That rambling is often my attempt to make sense of the internal conversations I’m having, while my focus is to articulate it in a way that will make sense to someone witnessing my cycle of insanity, if they were privy to it. So I write the way I think, often without filters, with the exception of the scenario described in the opening paragraph. Whether this is good or bad remains to be seen. But again, it only remains to be seen if it was written for the audience and not primarily for my own sanity.

    Thoughts that have threatened to prompt me to write in recent weeks appear to consistently centre around the acquisition of knowledge. I’m caught between the need versus the want of knowing something. I know that one is driven by the ego and the other by sincere curiosity, but the words are so easily interchangeable that it’s difficult to make a definitive observation about it. What I am convinced of though, is the fact that there are times when we demand to know something simply because we feel entitled to the information, or because we wish to use it for ulterior motives. The lesser frequent motivation for acquiring knowledge is because we are genuinely curious and seek to understand, rather than judge. While both have their place, I think there is a significant imbalance leaning towards the former. Given the state we find the world in today, it’s not surprising that most knowledge is acquired for egotistical purposes before anything else.

    Perhaps in that is some hint at what would cause the writer’s among us to block. Perhaps writer’s block is what happens to all of us in different ways, whether we’re writers or not. I think that when we lose sight of purpose, we struggle to find reason. In the absence of reason or purpose, we’re most likely to act in response to an expectation rather than to act towards fulfilling a greater purpose. If we’re fortunate, we realise it soon enough and refocus our efforts which clears the mental block that stifled our progress. If we don’t realise it soon enough, chances are that our ego will succeed in clouding our judgement further, and in our efforts to allay our fears of insignificance or incompetence, we play to the audience and slowly erode any sense of purpose we had in what we set out to do simply because we cannot afford to be seen as lacking.

    The fact that we may be travelling the same path that we set out on does not necessarily mean that we still take joy or benefit from travelling it. I think there’s an important point in there somewhere. I also just realised that writing about my mental block spawned thoughts that were hardly at the forefront of my mind when I started. I guess the trick is to be able to express without judging yourself first, or without considering if what is to be expressed will be seen as wisdom, or whimsical. I generally don’t care much for the opinions of others, although recently I have been distracted by it from time to time. When that distraction reared its head, I found myself floundering in my ability to be decisive which is a very frustrating place to be.

    Re-centering my thought process on what I subscribe to has made the difference between bobbing around aimlessly in the sea of dysfunction around me and setting the current to disrupt that same sea. Disruption is often frowned upon, but usually only by those that lack purpose. Disruption in thought and deed is needed to avoid slipping into a rut of routine while believing we’re part of something great. That something great is usually the energy of the masses that are in that rut with us, while the volume of our collective trudging quickly turns that rut into a trench. The distracted masses then look around and celebrate their time in the trenches as a select few rise to the top and exit the trenches because they became the champions of the dysfunction purely through tenure rather than contribution. It’s the age-old celebration of a struggle. The duration of our struggles is often what defines us, more than our emergence from the same state. It’s the shortest path to pacification of the meek.

    The cynic in me is thriving, which is usually a sign that I need to abate and reflect. Introspection is a good place to be. It’s a pity that it is so often disrupted by a need to act on its fruit, where the absence of such action will leave us being as impotent as the foam on the ocean. Writer’s block be gone.

  • Once I Know Why…

    I find it strange when I encounter people that are convinced that only once they understand why they made the mistakes they’ve made will they be able to move forward in life. Or worse still, why they were treated the way they were, only then will they expect or demand better. The irony in this is so blatant that it’s like not noticing the air you breathe until someone suffocates you. Funny how this thought process is equally suffocating and stifling to those that subscribe to it.

    Why then do we insist on knowing why before we’re willing to take the next step? I mean, we wouldn’t be able to tell that we were treated badly or that we made mistakes unless we knew the opposing truth to it, right? In other words, the moment I know that I want or deserve something better, it means I know what I don’t want. Again a blatantly obvious truth that most miss. So the question then arises as to why it is that we choose not to act on this knowledge?

    Some of it I think stems from a social conditioning that suggests that if you didn’t come up with the answers when you were sent to your room to reflect on your bad behavior, then you remain in the naughty corner until you do. That might work until you reach the age of independent thought, but the moment that age is reached, that excuse or crutch falls away. As usual, to best demonstrate a point we must take it to an extreme, so let’s consider the following scenario.

    If I place my hand on a hot stove, I know I will burn. I also know that in future I don’t want to burn, unless you’re a twisted sadist, in which case your problem is much bigger than this. Actually not, but let’s chat about that another day. Anyway, so it doesn’t make sense for me to continue to place my hand on that hot stove simply because I am not yet fully familiar with the mechanics or chemistry that causes such burn to happen. So in future, I will either use tools or apparel that will prevent me from burning because I still need that hot stove, or I will find a safer means to heat my food, like a microwave perhaps.

    Simple analogy, but apparently not so simple to implement. I think the difference between this and life is also simple. We don’t ever have hope that the hot stove will be able to heat our food if kept cool. So we have no expectation of the nature of the stove to change, or the need for heat to be different. So I guess we could either choose to eat cold or uncooked food, which is distinctly unpleasant at most times, or we adapt our approach to get what we want without harming ourselves in the process. Imagine what it would be like if the food thought it was unworthy of being heated when the stove was cold? Or maybe it would taste better if only the stove would heat it without getting so hot? Or maybe the stove could see how beautiful all the little ingredients were that made the food such a wholesome meal and it would heat it more gently and appreciate each grain of salt and each curry leaf for the struggle they went through to get there?

    Seriously though, we get caught in a cycle that causes us to resent ourselves for not being worthy of better, of hoping that the aggressor would be kinder because we can absolutely see with total conviction how capable they are of such kindness and how beautiful they will be in the process, and most importantly, we’re afraid that if we let go, we may not get anything better or at all to replace it.

    It all comes down to self-worth. If we don’t believe we’re worth more, we’ll find reasons to resist making the changes we need to make because we’re unlikely to reach the point when enough is enough. At some point we became convinced that unless we have the answers for the past, we cannot progress into the future. What rubbish! The moment we know better from worse, we can make a choice for better. The moment we allow ourselves to experience better, we’ll automatically realise why worse was not good enough. All we need is to know what is preferred, but not always do we need to know why it is preferred.

    The way forward is really simple, but requires courage. Do the right thing for the right reason at the right time and everything will be just fine. Stop. That conversation you just started in your head about how do you know when it’s the right time, or what the right reason is, etc., just stop it. That is the circular drivel that keeps you grounded in the past. Focus on the present. And that means that you don’t focus on how you’re perceived, because how you’re perceived requires a projection into the future based on your past experiences, which means you are not present. So let’s try again, focus on the present. Yes, the moment in which you are acting or making a decision to act. In that moment know what you’re feeling and know what outcome you desire. If your decision contributes towards that desired outcome, do it. If not, who are you trying to appease, and are they important enough to appease?

    I suspect you just started another internal conversation about what if you see their importance and that you’re hoping that by doing what you think you need to do they may just realise how important they are and therefore it makes it important to appease them…exhausting, isn’t it? It’s a simple process to achieve better, but self-doubt which is spawned by a low self-worth makes it seem impossible.

    You don’t always have to know why. You just have to know why not. Start there. The rest will follow. Let a stove be a stove and stop hoping for it to be something else.

  • Sheltered

    The analytical mind is quite curious. It sets aside emotion and observes objectively that which presents itself before us. The keener the observation, the less emotional it is. The more emotional, the less accurate the assessment. Yet both these dispositions, emotional and analytical, are needed for a wholesome life.

    From personal experience, and my observations of those that I’ve engaged with over the years, it seems that the most analytical are the ones that had the least wholesome upbringing. They were typically the ones that were misunderstood, emotionally isolated, or worse. They generally have unpleasant stories to tell, usually with a snigger and a laugh, as they recount their days of strife at the hands of family members or neighbourhood bullies with a strong cynical undertone. They’re the scarred beauties that have become detached, because attachment is either unfamiliar or holds no appeal.

    In contemplating this scenario, I was initially inclined to believe that the opposing tale must be one of emotional cocooning. To be smothered with love and understanding, while nurturing a healthy, if not over indulgent self-esteem, they’re raised by parents who always made time for their quirks and pains, while leading a moderately successful life of measured luxury and homely warmth. Sounds almost idyllic, if not fairy tale-like. But it does happen, so I know it’s a reality, even though it may not be a reality that I, or others like me, can relate to.

    As my mind wandered through this meandering path the one word that kept whispering in the back of my cynical mind was ‘sheltered’. The more I considered their good fortune, the more I found myself ambivalently envious of their blessings, while equally spurning their sense of entitled protection. It’s a reality that they depend on because it is the frame of reference within which they were raised. My frame of reference is very different though, and if it weren’t for the sobering moments of my life, I would have been hell bent on believing that they were the enemy. The ones that had it easy while judging the rest of us, while we made it through life the hard way, only to be placed second best to their privileged upbringing.

    But the reality is very different from such a jaundiced view of the differences we share. The shelter they find in the emotional wholesomeness with which they were raised contributes to the compassion that we desperately need in this world. The rest of us, the analytical ones, use that emotional deficit to clearly articulate the problem statements that are so elusive when looking at the world through rose-coloured spectacles. However, if my personal experiences are anything to go by, compassion fatigue sets in easily with those that see the painful cycles repeating themselves, and having the analytical wit to most often accurately pre-empt a distasteful outcome. At times like those, it’s the emotionally grounded beings that see reason to drag us out of despair and continue to fight the good fight.

    But the truth is closer to the reality that both are equally sheltered. Both enjoy the familiarity of their frame of reference that shelters them from the reality of the other. To the emotionally obese, living a cold and detached existence is impossible to contemplate, while the analytical sees the pointless emotional indulgences and sneers at the waste of productive time spent molly-coddling (I hate that phrase!) those that appear too fragile to function without a hug. It’s a despicable envy on both parts that adds beautifully intricate, yet entertaining hues to the panorama of life.

    Unfortunately, there are too many that fail to see what shelters them, and in so doing, find sufficient reason to despise the rest that appear to be unfairly privileged relative to their sombre upbringing. At some point, the choice to accept or deny our own privilege becomes ours, and ours alone. Life is cliched like that. But we’re often so intent on proving that we’re not as common as everyone else, that we exclude ourselves from the very same collective that we belong to, while yearning for acceptance.

  • Models of Harm

    The formative years. It sounds like such an innocent time in our lives when we’re absorbing all these great life experiences that will one day shape our characters as adults. We unwittingly adopt the behavioural tendencies of those around us, including those we later despise and those we hold dear. Sometimes specific moments become etched as defining moments that we never fully understand but can always recall with vivid detail even though it seemed like just a fleeting moment of no consequence at the time. However, most of the time the less pleasant experiences are not etched as memories, but instead as fuel for our defenses that are formed without specific choice on our part.

    As a child, I think it’s perfectly normal to block things out in order to remain resilient. In the absence of any mature coping mechanisms at that early age, forgetfulness and forgiveness, although not conscious choices, serves us well. However, in the process, it shapes our perspectives of the world that either manifests itself as healthy or destructive later on. This, more than the memories that are etched in our minds that we recall with vivid detail, is the real threat to our sanity as adults. The themes that carry through those periods of ‘forgive and forget’ defines our sense of self-worth, but more importantly I believe it defines our belief in what our contribution towards society can be (not will be).

    If we constantly forgave the spiteful, selfish, or abrasive acts of others towards us, we’re inclined to grow up believing that we should expect nothing less, and therefore slip into a victim state of mind. We become subservient and enslaved to the point where the absence of an opportunity to be subservient may result in us growing excessively despondent in the belief that we are not worthy enough for anyone to seek our subservience. In other words, if I don’t find a setting in which I can be of service to a higher authority that I recognise as such (not necessarily a religious or spiritual one), I will most likely feel incomplete, unfulfilled, or even worthless to those around me. Alternately, if those themes are ones of acceptance, praise, and condoning of my actions no matter what, I would be likely to grow up feeling entitled, arrogant, and generally more deserving of attention and affirmation than others. In fact, not just deserving, but needy of it. Of course, these are just two polar opposites of the spectrum. Sometimes, those that are compelled to believe they are victims fiercely resist the thought and grow aggressive or destructive (or both) in their efforts to demand significance while not having the presence of mind to understand why their approach serves as nothing more than a further erosion of their significance to those around them.

    Such inclinations are easily excusable up to a point. That point arrives when we acquire the capacity and skills to reflect on our behaviour consciously, rather than continuing to live spontaneously without thought or consideration for the impact of our actions on others. I believe this to be true for both the subservient and the arrogant. Those that persist with the patterns of behaviour into their adult years under the pretense that that is simply their nature have in fact not progressed much beyond their formative years. They may have acquired new skills and defined more effective strategies in the years that followed, but the underlying motivation and purpose that drives their behaviour remains unconsciously informed. No different to a child throwing a tantrum for something that they want because they have no better judgement to understand why it may be bad for them or those around them.

    There is a point in all this rambling even though it may not seem so yet. What I’m struggling to articulate is really the crux of why we feel dis-ease in our lives as we find ourselves struggling to achieve things that come naturally to others. We sometimes struggle in our roles in society, or family, often caught between knowing that what we’re doing is wrong, but also not knowing why we are not inclined to do it right. It’s this angst that is often masqueraded as anger or arrogance accompanied by a healthy dose of obstinacy, but sometimes is also manifested in behavioural patterns that go against our nature. It’s a struggle that every one of us lives with to varying degrees of intensity, and I’ve found that those that are most mindful of those early influences in their lives are the ones that are most at peace with these struggles. That doesn’t mean that the struggle ever abates, but simply that it occupies less space in their sub-conscious mind than most of us.

    But there is another important side to this state of reflection and conscious choice. What we often fail to do is separate the role models from the destructive actions. We fail to see their demons and therefore feel trapped in knowing that we disapprove of their actions but feel that such disapproval may be a rejection of them. When they are parents or siblings, or other loved ones in our lives, that tension becomes extremely disruptive to our state of mind. So perhaps the most important part of forgiving and forgetting is not necessarily looking beyond the actions only, but also being able to recognise the role that someone played in our lives while discounting the behavioural associations with them?

    In order to discount those associations I would need to have a frame of reference against which to validate my choice instead. Right there is the origin of such angst. Too many insist on an absolutist approach to all this. We either accept the role of our parents as being definitive, or as being irrelevant. Very few make a healthy choice of determining which were their parents’ demons versus their deliberate efforts. We inadvertently create a model around which to shape our lives without realising its significant parts that in fact operate independent of each other, and in doing so, we adopt the same flawed frame of reference that drove them to unsuccessfully struggle with their demons as they tried to lay the foundations for our lives.

    These models of harm were not imposed on us. We created it from the assumptions we continued to make as we grew older. Chances are, when we lack the ability to look critically but compassionately at those around us, we probably lack the ability to reflect critically but compassionately about ourselves. When that happens, we are likely to subscribe to labels and norms that we don’t fully understand but nonetheless do so because it offers affirmation, validation, or at the least, an excuse as to why we may not be able to fulfill the ideals of the roles that we would want to fulfill instead. It gives us that excuse to say that we can’t control our choices because there is proof that there are others that are similarly afflicted, and therefore it can’t be an affliction, but instead it must simply be a norm that goes against the norm.

    There is strength in numbers. And it’s the strength in the numbers of those we polarise towards that will determine which themes we adopt for our lives. If I surround myself with successful but unethical sales people in my quest to become a successful salesman, I will quickly find reason to justify the unethical behaviour that feeds my success. But in order to do this, I would need to completely discount the ethical points of reference that may have informed my ethics up to that point. If I cannot successfully demonise those points of reference, I will forever be conflicted and will experience dis-ease throughout my career’s successes, even though that may not be visible to those around me.

    We’re all sales people. We’re all offering a product of ourselves to those around us, and depending on how desperately we want to make that sale, we’ll compromise our core values in order to receive the acceptance we desire. How readily we compromise, including what we choose as being our core values, is directly influenced by the models of harm that we formulated as we worked our way through life. Again, a moment of reflection therefore becomes more beneficial than 80 years of prayer.

     

  • The Folly of Love (Part 2)

    The previous post of the same title always felt incomplete, and most probably so will this one. There is another side to this concept of love that is almost entirely absent in our lives. Apart from the sincerity of gestures and goodwill towards each other, there is a bond that is established with each giving of ourselves that goes unnoticed. It escapes us because we have no expectations of it growing into anything more. Sometimes we even restrain ourselves actively from giving more because we are averse to the responsibility that goes with such a contribution. There is a beauty, a grounding, or maybe more accurately a homeliness in being able to connect with another human soul. It is accompanied by a sense of belonging and acceptance. But it is often short lived, if felt at all. I think love extends to every human interaction.

    I’ve found that with each interaction that I share with another, especially when those interactions continue over an extended period of time, and the more familiar I become with the struggles and aspirations of the next person, the more likely I am to fall in love with their being. We always talk about giving of ourselves as an act of love, but I think surrendering our defenses is equally indulgent. To surrender requires trust, and trust reflects more of the person that is trusting than the one who is trusted. It is grounded in a sincerity to contribute or receive that which would otherwise not be possible to bring into being. That sincerity is fed by a desire, or more accurately a need to connect in order to feel significant.

    The most fundamental source of inspiration that we receive is appreciation, or gratitude. It affirms our ability to make a significant contribution which indirectly validates our sense of purpose. Appreciation is an expression of love, but not just an appreciation of beauty. Instead, it is any form of appreciation that extends beyond the superficial. However, the intent (which can be argued is similar if not the same as sincerity) will either taint or embellish the expression of appreciation. It is in that moment that we find reason to fall in love, or to be repulsed.

    The cynic in me compels me to acknowledge that every act is an expression of love. However, that expression is not always aimed at the other. If we look closely enough, we will always be able to determine whether the lover is immersed in a love for themselves, or a love for that which they pursue or indulge in. Even in the most despicable form of aggression or cruelty there is a love that is present for that which drives us to the point of such powerful expression. This ramble is losing its focus and its meaning, and perhaps in that is the confirmation that any contemplation of love is indeed a folly.

    But the lingering thought that remains to be expressed is what affects me most profoundly. It is not the act of falling in love that demands the most of our senses but rather the gutting of love that does. In that moment of betrayal when the one whose being you have grown to love retracts or deliberately withholds their expression of love to you, it is in that moment that the realisation of the love that was shared is most often felt. Until that point it is most often taken for granted, if noticed at all.

    I fall in love with the human spirit more times than I care to admit. And I scare many who are afraid to even consider that love may exist under such circumstances. Given the rarity of true compassion in the world, it is easy for an innocent show of concern or affection to be misconstrued for lust or inappropriate attention rather than love. This moral decay is not only robbing us of a wholesome living experience, it is robbing us of the ability to express sincerity without fear of being unfairly judged or entirely ridiculed.

  • Undefined

    The events of my life have confirmed the sometimes unpleasant truth that I am anomalous by nature. It is not an active choice that I made, nor a deliberate rebellion against those I view as fickle and uninspiring. Instead, it is a natural disposition that I have learnt to embrace. Unlike most other personal dispositions that we may grow to embrace, this one does not yield greater acceptance by society. In fact, it further entrenches the divide between the known and predictable, and the unknown and anomalous.

    By design, the weak seek security and predictability. It is a necessary constraint that we willingly establish for ourselves in order to feel competent. Yes, competent. The less unknown variables, the less skill we need to navigate our way through unknown territory. The more we appear to be in control, the more competent we feel, and the greater our self-esteem, albeit based on a fickle truth. It is for this reason that we pursue a life of definition.

    Definition dictates boundaries and a need for compliance. In the absence of compliance we automatically feel empowered to act or respond to those that do not toe the line. By extension, we compartmentalise and label in order to establish predictability, because with predictability comes control, and with control comes confidence, if not arrogance. It is therefore no surprise that I find myself at odds with such rigid structures and practices that feed the establishments that stifle us.

    Being anomalous is therefore the proverbial red flag to the bull that is society. Society is shaped by the rebels, but sustained by the meek. It requires that the majority comply in order to remain functional, failing which anarchy will follow. But such anarchy is only inevitable if the emphasis on definition remains the norm. What if we had a society where everyone was anomalous? It would automatically dictate that everyone would be more skilled in the art of unpredictability, meaning that each encounter will result in a richer experience. rather than a predictable outcome.

    Predictability will be limited only to that which was experienced before, but would no longer be employed to ensure comfort and composure. In fact, if society were to be less predictable and more anomalous, routine would become the enemy, and growth would be stifled (as it already is) under rigid social norms. The greatest challenge then of being anomalous is to find the means to express yourself to an audience that has a frame of reference that denies your existence by design. At face value, we may then be inclined to adapt our approach to avoid such rejection. We will therefore find ways to fit in with the system that has been established to ensure compliance with the greater inclination, rather than the lesser inspiration.

    Inspiration is what the anomalous seek. To be inspired to act rather than to act out of obligation. To find that inspiration in the smile of a stranger, or better yet, in the smile of the eyes of a kindred spirit. The euphoria that accompanies such an existence will steel any sincere soul against surrendering in favour of acceptance, because acceptance, especially in totality, is akin to incarceration. When we act out of obligation or compulsion, we rarely realise the benefits from the endeavour, whereas acting out of conviction that is inspired by purpose or belief in a greater boon establishes a reward system that is independent of people, of society, of the fickleness that drives the masses.

    To therefore remain undefined is a blessing. It allows for the fluidity of spontaneity to embellish the relationship and the life experience, while being spared the decay of compliance. By extension, an undefined relationship holds the promise of greater depth and breadth than one that fills the pages of romance novels. Perhaps, like with most things, there is a balance. Perhaps that balance also hints of hypocrisy, but it’s a hypocrisy that is pervasive, and therefore embraced. In our consumption from society, compliance is required, but in our contribution, being anomalous will yield more growth and value than blind following ever will.

  • The Hazard of Conviction

    The risk of living your life with conviction is falling in love too easily. Stop. Not every statement of love is about needy bonds between two people. No. Love is more wholesome when it is considered within the context of giving of yourself without restraint just so that you can experience the joy of such abandon, even if it is discarded or goes unnoticed. The aftermath of such rejection is what primes us for our next encounter. Sometimes it builds walls so high and tough that we lose any conviction in living with conviction. But sometimes, it strips us of any pride we may have had in holding on to the delusion of being in control, and as a result we find ourselves actively pursuing the ideal that got away.

    Despite my disillusionment at those that live life focused on pleasing or appeasing others, I can’t despise them for it because I know that those same weaknesses exist within me. I may not succumb to it as often these days, but I’ve had my bouts of indulgence that left me questioning my significance and my sanity. But this is not about self-doubt, it’s about conviction. Those that lack conviction demonstrate an absence of love or passion in what they do, and it shows. We are drawn to that which resonates with our convictions, be they values, principles, or even aspirations. We are repulsed by those that create noise or disturbance around these core issues of our serenity, sometimes overtly, but often as a natural dislike that cannot be easily explained.

    I find it easier to engage meaningfully with someone that holds contradictory views to my own when they express such views with conviction and sincerity, as opposed to the whimsical agreement I receive from many that are too afraid to offend me. We need receptive hearts before we find the words to express the message that stirs within us. People with conviction are often those receptive hearts we need, while people without it tend to sway with the fads and the fickleness of the times, leaving very little room for inspiration, but much for consumerism. Given how distracted society is these days, it’s safe to assume that the distracted are many, while the convicted are few. When the convicted challenge the distractions, they are purged from society under the guise of maintaining the peace. (I suspect that many will struggle to see the ‘convicted’ as one with conviction, as opposed to a common criminal, which ironically contradicts the fact that the one without conviction is in fact the thief of the peace in our lives).

    Choosing to live with conviction is choosing a path laden with heartache and disappointment, occasionally peppered with a glint of beauty from those that have experienced enough betrayal and disappointment to learn to be true to themselves. But those moments of beauty cannot be traded for anything less, because everything else only feeds the desire to embrace that beauty. It is akin to achieving the realisation of something, which once realised, cannot be un-realised. The absence of conviction makes it that much more difficult to recover from betrayal, because when we lack a sense of who we are and what we stand for, we are more likely to court the affirmation of others for the sake of affirmation, rather than finding comfort in being grounded in our focus on a higher purpose.

    There are too many of us that are trying to live someone else’s dream, while believing that it is in fact our own. We’re afraid to scratch beneath the surface, or disrupt the system, while we celebrate the disruptive ones. We find a calling behind a rebel, but spurn rebels amongst us. We contradict ourselves regularly, but are oblivious to such contradiction because it is in balance with society. We allow society to define us while we despise ourselves for being defined. We want to be unique individuals, just like everyone else, and the saddest irony is that most don’t get the irony in that.

    I have fallen in and out of love with people in brief moments of random encounters. Some have held my love for longer, while others took it for granted because they were distracted by affirmation too soon. Seeing the gold in the eyes of one that feels a sudden and unexpected elation at truly grasping a moment of beauty in their own lives is priceless. It is what drives me to be uncompromising and tenacious in my effort to unlock more of it in everything around me. Those that lack such conviction find me impossible to deal with, but those that have it experience moments of revelation that reveals the beauty beneath the cesspool of society.

    I am at odds with society, and I love it. I never wanted to fit in, although at times I desired acceptance. But conformity was never an option. I pray that I will meet others with an equal conviction in my lifetime, not just fleeting glimpses of them, but a true embrace of souls that will provide a distant echo of the peace that lies beyond.