Tag: Life

  • Purposefully Distracted

    The earlier days of my life don’t prompt recollections of clarity and purpose. I can’t recall moments where I had a definite view of what I wanted to become and where I wanted to be at any specific point in my life. Of course, the one prevailing thought at the time was the premonition that death awaited me at the age of 23. Needless to say that premonition was wrong, and each time I experience a decidedly unpleasant moment in my life, I find myself wistfully recalling the comfort I drew from that premonition.

    Beyond that point I found myself unprepared for what lay ahead. Apart from the typical considerations of wanting to be an architect, or something, I pursued whatever opportunities came my way with relative ease and minimal conviction. My naturally competitive spirit drove me to push the boundaries in everything I did, but at no point did I find myself driven towards a higher calling. I merely made the most of what I had access to, and that pretty much sums up my approach to life as well, for a while at least. Eventually, after several severe betrayals, and the sudden realisation of the additional responsibilities that surfaced when I wasn’t paying attention, I found myself compelled to define a path for myself.

    I chose not to. Instead, quite sub-consciously I defined what it was that I did not want. What I wanted was too stifling to commit to. It limited me and defined me in ways that I did not feel comfortable imposing on myself. So instead, I focused on what I didn’t want. That felt liberating. Still does. I found that it allowed me to consider options that would otherwise have conflicted with a carefully crafted path in life. Little wonder then that I find myself restless when among those that have their lives planned to the last detail. They have this idea as to what they want to achieve, by when, and where to after that. It sounds too clinical to be life. Some view that as purpose, I view it as safety. Safety is something I’ve never truly craved. Comfort perhaps, but not safety from the fluidity of life.

    Against that backdrop I found myself observing those around me. Those that fit the mould and ticked the boxes of success. I could never relate, and in weaker moments, those empty boxes that I could never tick were used quite successfully to pummel my spirit further into the dirt. Fortunately those moments never lasted. But each time I emerged from that space it provided me with insight into the constraints of leading a life well planned.

    The plans that I saw unfolding in most people’s lives usually took a path that started off with youthful passion in wanting to change the world. That defined a mission for them that set them on a path to achieve the prerequisites needed in order to influence the segment of the world that they wanted to change. Those prerequisites ticked the right boxes and in turn unlocked opportunities that promised success, recognition, and importantly, wealth. Along with those familiar trappings of success came the distraction. Oh that painful distraction. The one that prompts us to indulge in the trappings as a token of celebration for our efforts to succeed in a world that we despised enough to want to change. Silently, and almost imperceptibly, they grew to define the very same world they set out to change.

    All the while the responsibilities accumulated to the point where the trappings were no longer tokens of success, but instead they had become necessities that were essential for the fulfilment of those responsibilities. Purpose didn’t matter any longer, or if it did, it morphed into a shadow of its former self. And slowly they assimilated without realising it. What once defined their desire to contribute their unique talents to the world now only defined their taste in the trappings that aimed to set them apart from the rest. Discernment replaced purpose. And so the distractions overtook and death became a reality that only happened to everyone else. That is when they lost themselves.

    I see many people almost totally bewildered when their carefully constructed path through life meets a forced detour. What started out as a great idea quickly unravels into empty stares when faced with the coldness that reality offers. At some point we all succumb. We set out with passion, get distracted by our ego, lose sight of what is important, and then shift focus to that which is needed to sustain the distraction while dismissing the passion for purpose as a whimsical desire of youth. We grow old because we undermine that passion for life. We grow weak and meek, and almost despicable when we believe that there is ignorance in youth rather than clarity of purpose. When we hold on to such beliefs of youth, we condition ourselves to accept that its abandonment is in fact maturity, while its embrace is foolhardy.

    I choose to live a foolhardy life. The best part is that it is not a crowded space at all. Unfortunately.

  • 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.

  • Poetic Relevance

    Poetry often belies the age of the poet,

    but always reveals the struggles of the soul.

    What we write of youth,

    applies to old.

    But most would rather resist it,

    Than bear the truth be told.

    I’m in love with life.

    But I hate the world.

  • 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)

  • Life Awaits

    Pleasantries aside,
    Life awaits.
    A release
    waiting to be honoured,
    A being of self
    resisting restraint,
    An expression of the soul
    refusing all rules,
    A delight of indulgence
    to tickle a child.
    Laughter
    Love
    Abandon
    Life awaits.

  • The Gravity of You

    We go through life seeking to be understood, slowly shedding each layer of protection as we grow bolder in our journey towards finding that elusive state of comfort between the fire that rages within, and the composure expressed without. It’s a dance for two often mimicked by one, but the band continues to play, whether you have a partner or not. The show must go on. But in all your shedding and expressing there is a small space that you protect fiercely. A space so well hidden that only the most deliberate of efforts coupled with the most determined of insights is able to unlock. It is that little treasure that defines the gravity of being who we are.

    But, like gravity, not everything we attract is attractive, nor good for us. Space junk and stray rocks pound us at times and leave defining scars to add to the unique tale of who we are. The uniqueness of our tale is not enough to sustain our desire to be unique, to stand out from the crowd. Instead, uniqueness comes with the threat of isolation, and so we set out in search of one similarly damaged or suitably seasoned. It’s an irony that serves us well. The brave struggle to define a space that adds to the collage of this world, while seeking the embrace of one who understands and appreciates the cost of such a colourful contribution. We were built to connect.

    For some that connection is realised in the form of a kindred spirit, or a soulmate. For most, it is the mere idea of the same that gives them enough reason to abandon the search, believing that the familiarity they may have found is in fact the companionship that they sought. Anything more than a compromised pleasure demands a commitment of transparency that most are incapable of. Not from lack of ability but from pure fear. A fear so great that the mere contemplation of such abandon leaves them paralysed with even more fear.

    An abandon of who we are in favour of who we are willing to present to the world has curtailed the dreams of many. The humiliation we suffer at the hands of our own bitter ridicule creates that hoard of pain that we protect so fiercely and often hide so well that we forget that it’s there. The learned behaviours that protect it remain ingrained in our being always ready to be summoned, but the purpose of such defenses is easily forgotten, until we eventually defend on instinct and attack blindly anyone that strikes close to the core that we have chosen to define who we are. But we have forgotten what lies within, and so we loiter through this world pretending to be resolute and principled in our fight for the oppressed or the noble cause of preservation knowing that it resonates with us in some way but never really knowing why. And in this way we find ourselves focused on living a life aimed at leaving a legacy rather than being understood.

    I believe that among the great death bed regrets will be the realisation that we never truly showed the world who we are. It will be a moment of angst that will tear at that core that we hid so well, but even then, with eyes firmly fixed on the inevitable, fear will prevent many from being discovered. The ridicule we heaped on ourselves for what should have been bumps in the road turned them into unassailable mountains and pits of quicksand. Then we associated that ridicule with the mockery of others. To deflect attention away from our own shame we shamed another instead. It was always better to expose our flaws in others so that they would not get a chance to witness the same flaw in us. It’s a flawless strategy, except for the one paying attention.

    The one that is honest with themselves will see their flaws echoed in others, and rather than use it as a point of ridicule and deflection, they draw on it to understand and support. Reverse engineering our shame and disappointment makes us powerful, while neglecting it makes us weak. The gravity of who we are is not defined by the shame we hide within. We can never be defined by that which remains hidden. So in the absence of that full disclosure we remain undiscovered, while ensuring that the image we sell of ourselves is all that will be embraced by those around us. It is unsurprising then that even the boldest embrace often doesn’t fill the void. How can it fill the void when it isn’t allowed to reach it?

    No one will ever know the true gravity of being you. At times, that may be a comfort to you, but when it matters most it will leave you wanting, unfulfilled, and bitter, ailing from unexplained diseases that you’ll dismiss as being a natural end to a difficult life, because there is no shortage of others like you that will seek to validate your weakness. You will draw a superficial comfort from that, but deep inside, in that niche where you stashed your shame, you will feel the roots of your fear take hold one last time as you struggle to take in the air that you took for granted all your life. The gravity of being you will only weigh you down if you choose to be defined by the fickle expectations of those around you. If you were not living up to the expectations of others, you would never have reason to ridicule yourself in the face of their mockery.

  • Peace

    Belying my exterior,
    That serene scene saunters into view of my mind’s eye.
    Driving to a destination that isn’t,
    Until my fuel is spent,
    Effortlessly emerge from the vehicle,
    And continue on foot,
    Until I am spent.
    Finally melding into the sand,
    Without a trace,
    I become one with time.
    Passing you by,
    Unnoticed.
    Finally at peace.

  • An Overdue Brain Dump

    I am who I am as a matter of consequence, not design. It is not the independent process of destiny that has defined me, but instead my interaction with it. My choices have allowed me to contribute towards my future rather than passively waiting to see what may come to pass. It is a reality that few share with me. Most are pacifists in their lives, but aggressors in the lives of others. We tend to over compensate for our weaknesses by projecting the reasons for our failures on those around us. At the core, it is this that prompts me to share my thoughts about the failings and successes of my life. However, as I am often reminded, you need a receptive heart to be able to communicate what you truly feel or think. The thoughts flow easier when you have that receptive audience. Otherwise the ramblings remain your own and the words create a veneer of the truth without ever revealing the truth itself.
    When I feel as if this endeavour is pointless, or that it does not add value, or that it is more self-indulgent than it is constructive, that is when I consider if it is a worthwhile use of my time and energy or would it be better for me to apply myself to something that will actually benefit others. To delete or not to delete. That thought crosses my mind often.
    Writing is therefore not my companion. It’s more a plea for sanity to prevail. My sanity to prevail. And when the probability of that happening seems slim or non-existent, I question the rationale behind using this avenue for that plea. It’s not as self-indulgent as it may appear. We all go through life appealing for our sanity to prevail, but we lose sight of exactly that fact. That it is our perception of sanity and not necessarily the sanity that the next person experiences. And so we grow aggressive or despondent in the process, depending on how stubborn or weak we choose to be.
    Gaining the credentials that are worshipped by the masses will make this endeavour significantly easier to pursue. The membership that is supposedly a reflection of intelligence. The token badge that is supposed to be a meaningful measure of our ability to regurgitate what we’re fed in a way that it is expected to be regurgitated, and if we regurgitate it correctly, then we get rewarded. If we apply a measure of independent thought or creativity beyond the predetermined tolerance level, we’re punished. So I don’t care for the credentials, and I’m ambivalent about soliciting the affirmation or validation of those that do have the credentials because the source of those credentials belong to the very system that I am critically opposed to.
    The true ambivalence comes in when I realise that it will be that much more difficult to make any significant progress without their endorsement in some form or another. I spurn that system. I believe it started out with good intent, but has morphed into an elitist club that suggests that you’re incompetent by default unless you have a membership badge that they deem authentic. The tokenism that accompanies it is exactly what I despise. So even though I agree that it will make the path easier, which I have often considered as an option, at this point my conviction on that subject doesn’t allow me to become part of the very system whose legitimacy I am challenging. I know, ambitious, but nonetheless, if I am going to be true to myself, then I need to find another way of being heard.
    Another consideration that often dogs my mind is the need to single out an area of thought leadership or influence and to focus on that rather than being so generalised in the breadth of topics that I tend to delve into. Do I contemplate the human condition, religion, emotions, or spirituality, or do I contemplate the whole?  I do not wish to single out only one area of influence, and I accept that this further adds to the risks of not being heard. But my life’s obsession has been exactly around how all that comes together seamlessly in our lives, and that we become somewhat dysfunctional when we try to pursue or view them individually. It is the whole that I hope to define more critically, and not just one of its components. That is why I deliberately weave in thoughts grounded in religious traditions that demonstrate its practical value beyond just its religious affiliations.
    I do not seek to understand others. They become easy for me to understand as I grow to know myself more intimately. Every observation I make is grounded in my observations of my own experiences, and how I related to the circumstances and challenges that I see others facing. And perhaps in that is the reasons why I needed, and continue to experience so many colourful events of betrayal in my life. It has given me a broader context from which to draw lessons compared to most people I know, or have met. By extrapolating the lessons I’ve learnt in those permutations of life that I experienced, it automatically gives me a knowledge base against which to develop those concepts and extend those principles into a much broader array of life experiences.
    So in short, my understanding of people is based on my innate need to pay attention to the details of my own failures. And perhaps in some small way therein lies the blessings of the challenges of my life. I do not spurn the knowledge that may be contained in individuals that have come through the system of tokenism. I spurn the system itself. So while I am against obtaining a membership badge for purposes of opening doors, I am always happy to expand my knowledge from whichever quarters may spawn it, including that contaminated system that is so blindly celebrated.
    I am by no means sufficient to myself. If I were, I would have no need for receptive hearts, nor will I need to engage with others in order to identify my own flaws in them. Do not try to define me. You will not be successful at such an attempt. I am anomalous. I take pride in my anomalous nature. I do not wish to constrain myself in line with traditional views of how we should be pigeon-holed by society. Despite how often I use the word, my emphasis is not on “I”. My focus instead is on ensuring that I do not give anyone any reason to believe that I am providing them with ‘academically derived’ perspectives, but instead, that I am relating my personal experiences to them and using that as the source against which they may find common ground relative to their own life experiences.
    The ultimate goal of this approach is to prove that each person, if only they are observant enough, carry with them the wisdom and insight that I hope to impart. So if anything, it should be empowering, rather than a distraction towards supposed self-centricity. In addition to that, it is also an admission that I do not believe that I am special beyond the average person, and that I am convinced that every person possesses the same capacity for observation and insight if only they remove the distractions that blind them from these truths.