Tag: peace

  • Opportune Moments

    Opportune Moments

    Tonight I was reminded of many things. Important things. Calling them things undermines the significance of it, but such is life. It turns the ordinary into elusive extraordinary moments, and turns the defining moments into passing glimpses of what was or what might have been. I was reminded of something I read on the blog of a troubled soul many years ago. It said, quite plainly, that life has been one long longing for a place I’d never been. That’s what tonight reminded me of.

    It reminded me of everything that I cherished and romanticised about, everything that is fragile but resilient, and everything that has felt like it was always meant for someone else. There is a taunting accuracy in driving around with a number plate that reminds me of the divinely ordained destinies that visit us in moments of distraction, and sometimes in moments when we are so deeply immersed in the essence of it that its passing feels akin to the ripping of thorns from the deepest recesses of my gut. But there has always been a glory in being able to experience moments so deeply.

    I look around at the oblivious that flit from moment to moment each time only looking to see if they were noticed or celebrated in that moment, but rarely allowing anything of that moment to affect them in a way that tears away at their defenses. Control is often blamed on the need to be functional or dependable, but it is most often called upon when we would muster the last breath in us to ensure that no one ventures close to the most cherished wounds of our souls. Until moments arise that remind us that control was only ever an illusion. A state that we created by blocking out everything that we could not control, and convinced ourselves that if we believed it hard enough, it would be willed into truth.

    Abandoning control in favour of feeling my humanness is an embrace I savoured a long time ago. I now convey the image of control to others, because what they see is the absence of impact of the fickle ways of others, and assume that it is in fact a control of response on my part. It is not. There is little control that is needed when you recognise the world for the fleeting annoyances that it offers. When a response is not warranted, most interpret it as restraint, simply because such a fickle occasion would have exacted much seething on their part. Not feeling any need to respond requires no control. It simply requires an awareness of the futility that any response will offer.

    Such passion for righting the wrongs that none care much about is easily subdued and eventually abandoned in favour of serving the passion that promises to oil the lamp that shines the light that makes the darkness bearable. There is nothing so bad that there is no good in it. These words have grounded me, and brought me comfort in times of despair by prompting me to recognise that there is more to life than wilting away in the darkness in memory of a past that never blossomed. Life is too short for such indulgences of the ego.

    Everyone talks about how short life is, but never about how short their memory is when it comes to remembering this sobering fact. I recall a movie whose title escapes me, in which Mini Driver screamed at her father after yet another disappointing betrayal of his trust, and complained that he keeps taking her to the top of the mountain only to show her what she can’t have. Perhaps that is what life is about. Dreams and aspirations that drop sparkles on the path for others to find their way, while the road ahead beckons you towards adventure and the promise of all things beautiful. So we willingly drop pieces of the essence of us as we travel along that path, until eventually we are spent. Those of us that are fortunate are met with our final moments at the time that we have exhausted the last shards of what we have to offer the world. The not-so-fortunate find themselves spent before their final breath approaches leaving them scurrying in their twilight moments looking for hope or purpose, finding none, and denying everything that ever tasted like reality, waiting patiently for the taunt of death to finally cease so that death itself may arrive.

    Opportune moments are most often recognised in moments of good fortune. But as always, moments that remind us of the beauty we take for granted, or the companionship that we barely recall are the moments that are most opportune. It defines who we are in provoking the responses of our true selves in its wake, while leaving us bare and vulnerable only to the eyes of those that see beyond the aesthetic. Thankfully they are in short supply so living with such brazenness is possible without attracting the attention of the distracted.

    Tonight, I was reminded that it is not loneliness but isolation that breaks our spirit. Because as they say, you are never alone if you like the one that you are alone with. Isolation is what you feel when you are in a room full of people, all of whom are close to you, but none of whom truly know or appreciate you. Isolation is felt most deeply when you feel the warmth of an embrace so close that it sets your heart racing, but it leaves without being fulfilled leaving your heart breaking.

    There was a time when such expression was reserved for anonymous posts that protected my dignity in the presence of those that have spent much time and effort in trying to prove that some humanity rested within me. Only, the humanity they sought to expose was in fact humiliation they wished to impose. It makes others feel less weak or pathetic when they are able to prove that the strong have moments of weakness just like them. Little do they know that it weakens them even more instead. These are all opportune moments. Moments that define our contribution to the world, and moments that define what we wish to finally accept the world is able to offer us.

    Shame is only felt when the opinions of others matter. When those opinions hold no weight at all, vulnerability and hope become companions that walk side by side, with optimism pretending to be the mascot, and reality being the path on which we travel. Incoherent ramblings offer solace and repose, even though after bleeding at the keyboard the gravity of what was not will once again visit a heavy heart.

    Despite all this, I would have life no other way. Living in half measures, even when surrounded by ingrates and mirages, is no life at all. Fortuitous it may be that I was reminded of a quote from Shakespeare just last night. It said, “Life is but a walking shadow that struts and frets its hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” I think he got it right, except for the last part. It signifies everything. That everything only loses its value when we hope for it to be valued by those that don’t recognise the value in us, or sometimes, the value in themselves. Either way, rubbishing the good or chasing the bad is only ever a cry for sympathy. I pray that I will never be met with such weakness in what life remains ahead of me.

  • Choose the Bitter Pill

    Choose the Bitter Pill

    Increasingly I see people entering their later years of life bitter and ridden with chronic ailments. Ailments that are referred to as lifestyle diseases for good reason because it results from poor choices that conflict with our need for balance and harmony. We fiercely protect our right to choose what we want and who we want in our lives, but seldom accept the consequences of such choices because it is easier to blame others than to accept accountability for the outcomes that suddenly oppresses us. Such is the nature of ingratitude. It is seated on a bed of entitlement while complaining bitterly about the demand for action.

    The ungracious heart looks at blessings and reminds itself that it’s of no consequence because of what they can’t have instead. We pine for partners and wealth that seems elusive and discard the good fortune we already have. Our fairy tale expectations of achieving everything or nothing at all, prince or pauper, nobility or peasantry, happily ever after or nothing, drives us to consider contentment to be achievable only in its entirety or not at all. Moderation is a lost art that has opened gaping wounds in society that created spaces for unhealthy indulgences to fill the void left by an absence of human connection.

    Human connection. It sounds idyllic, surreal, even romantic. All of which resonate with aspirational goals that elude the 99% that find themselves trapped in a game defined by the 1%. More accurately, the 1% are defined by the worship of the 99%. Without the loyal adoration of the fools, royalty will never hold significance. And so it is with the way in which we perceive our blessings relative to our burdens. Seeking affirmation before we affirm ourselves leaves us wanting when we have abundance. But abundance is inconsequential if it is not celebrated by those we wish to impress.

    Again, an ungracious heart seeks validation before recognising its own blessings. Realising that we are the architects of our own misery is a realisation that most despise. I’ve been on the receiving end of the most venomous attacks from people that were looking for praise for their martyrdom, because all I could offer them was the realisation that they were self-defeating pessimists instead. Like I’ve said before, the truth is only bitter if you’re not willing to accept it. And that is the bitter pill that we need to learn to swallow.

    If we were to only choose the elixirs that were palatable in our search for good health, we’d have very little health to enjoy. It is the bitter pills, the ones that cause the convulsions or leave the bitter after taste, those are the ones that shock the system into a state of healing. They harbour the changes needed to break the toxic cycles that threaten our peace, or the cycles that keep us grounded in a false reality that served our weakness when being strong was too daunting.

    When we protect ourselves from unpleasant experiences, we prevent ourselves from growth. That stagnation results in unrealistic demands from those around us, while cheating those that come after us of the wisdom they need to avoid the same rut that we courted for most of our lives. Choose the bitter pill, especially when the sweetness of life escapes you. It is the bitter pill that reminds us what sweetness tastes like, not sugary truths that protect us from reality.

  • I Am Enough

    I noticed an affirmation posted in someone’s workspace recently. I’m not one for affirmations, so I usually don’t pay much attention to such things. Psychosomaticism (if there is such a word) works if you’re not aware of where you’re at. Affirmations serve as reminders for what we should not be doing, but seldom, if ever does it serve to confirm why we should not be doing it. Some would tell themselves that they’re at peace with the universe and the universe is full of love, and then they turn on the news and realise that it’s not true. But holding on to the affirmation is the only handhold of sanity that they have, so they repeat the mantra just like Joseph Goebbels said they should. You know, if you repeat a lie often enough, it becomes accepted as truth.

    The reason this affirmation caught my attention is because it immediately prompted me with a somewhat disturbing question. The affirmation simply read, “I am enough”. The question it prompted was, “At which point did you convince yourself that you were not enough?”

    It’s this dissonance (at the risk of sounding aloof) that confuses me about human nature. We constantly look for reasons to pacify ourselves about our current state, but rarely seek  to actively change that state. It’s as if we have given up our agency (another aloof term) in favour of being nurtured. Not nurtured in a healthy and wholesome way, but rather in the way that a victim needs to be consoled even though they may have been party to the distress that they experienced.

    Each moment that we spend convincing ourselves that we’re out of control, we establish reasons to compensate for that through distractions. Yes, we cannot change what we’re presented with in life. But only to a point. This reminds me of one of my favourite analogies. If you poke a stick into a beehive, don’t complain when you get stung. Similarly, if we choose to be ignorant of these hives of consequences around us, and instead wander naively from one life experience to the next, we should not complain when what we receive is not what we wanted.

    Life becomes complicated and exceedingly overbearing when we feel subjected to the circumstances around us, while refusing to accept our accountability to act in spite of it. Stated more simply, there is no joy to be had from waiting for another to rescue us, while we willingly step into that pit of quicksand.

    Again, the failing of this accelerated pace of development that we’re experiencing as a result of the so-called fourth industrial revolution is that we are spoiled for choice in how to distract ourselves from what is important, or more importantly, from what makes us feel uncomfortable. Change, or accountability (often both) is what causes us to feel uneasy as we lazily observe the world through social media. Social media is not the problem in this case. What we believe we need from it is the important part.

    Problem is, most don’t know what they need, they only know what makes them feel good. It’s like we’re all suddenly Pavlov’s dog waiting for that next ‘like’ or that unread badge count to go up because we’ve replaced human connection with electronic communication. Nothing replaces the energy felt between two humans connecting. It doesn’t have to be a physical connection either. It’s simply a connection of conviction and aspiration. Two people looking in the same direction and believing, with conviction, in the myriad of possibilities waiting to be realised.

    However, one of the most daunting realities these days appears to be trust. The one thing that we once gave without thinking now becomes something we withhold until proven worthy. Connecting over a digital device gives us control over the level of trust we allow, or accept. Those that venture into this domain blindly give trust blindly and are subsequently destroyed when what they said in private becomes the next viral sensation on the internet.

    It all comes back to one simple, but very elusive point. Know yourself. Be mindful. Embrace accountability. They’re all one and the same, even though academics and motivational speakers will have you believe they’re not. When you know who you are, are willing to question why you’re not where you wish you were, and are willing to take accountability for where you’re at, you will know that you are enough because that is how far you chose to push yourself. Anything beyond that point is directly related to the effort you put in towards achieving it, and almost equally, the effort you put into letting go of that which no longer serves your aspirations as a human being.

    Everything else is a distraction. The kind of distractions that leave us needing to convince ourselves that we’re enough, because at some point we didn’t realise that we convinced ourselves that we were lacking for no good reason at all.

  • The Space Between

    The Space Between

    The hole in your heart can only be filled by the companion that knows that it is there. Sometimes we seek companionship in search of one that recognises that gap, but fail to realise that we in fact projected our need on their abilities instead. We flit between the calm and the clutter, the spaces of quiet, and the spaces of revelry and indulgence, sometimes being pulled towards the calm, but most often pulled towards the clutter.

    The clutter holds the promise of accompaniment, which deceptively veils itself with a mask of companionship. A kindred spirit is seen in common needs, more than in common goals. In those needs that resonate between two souls, familiarity is born. Familiarity, especially when it echoes similar pains and wants, creates an electricity that roots us to a point of temporary relief that lacks fulfilment. But that hint of relief, of a longer term repose, draws us in, and we find ourselves willingly sliding down that slope of abdication.

    Impervious to the effects of our inclinations, the taunt of the clutter that promises the calm draws out our demons, and subdues our virtues. Relief morphs into indulgence, and indulgence honours the need for significance. To feel worthy of more than we’ve been able to acquire, companionship drifts into the distance, and the vacuous space that elicits nothing but instant gratification beckons.

    The point of departure on that journey has to be grounded in faith if ever we are to find a rope on which to hold, as we cling to sanity. Sanity is quickly reduced to a concept of common relativity, while understanding is all that matters. As long as we feel understood, the principles by which we act, or the moral compass that once guided us loses relevance. After all, life is about priorities, and priorities are applied to needs. The greater the need, the more energy and hope we expend in its pursuit.

    There is an abundance of similarly troubled souls. The ones looking for companionship that holds that embrace. The embrace that completes the flimsy grip we have on life, in the absence of which a future state is all that we court, and the present moment becomes nothing more than a means to an end. An end that no one else can relate to. An end that rests only in our hearts, and is seen only by the one in whose hands rests our soul.

    But the clutter distracts and the indulgence beckons when faith waivers. Needs are tethered to the physical form, while peace is not. The physical form demands fulfilment, while the soul demands peace, but as long as we’re living, existing in a physical world, indulgence will always command our attention, and peace will always be elusive, except for those fleeting moments in the beginning. The very beginning of every embrace of a kindred spirit completes us in a moment of deceptive bliss. Sometimes we’re distracted by the clutter in that moment, and while we enjoy that moment intensely, we forget to see it for what it is. And so it is lost, along with the peace, as we draw on the indulgence that feeds our physical state, while the peace is shooed away.

    There is a delicate space between the peace and the clutter. So delicate that the slightest distraction breaks the thread that tethers us to it, causing us to drift aimlessly. Well, not entirely aimlessly. As we drift, our focus again shifts away from the peace, the calm, the tranquil, and instead, we go in search of that fleeting moment that is only ever felt in the most momentary seconds of the initial embrace. And the rest of our lives are spent in pursuit of recreating that one single moment that we experienced when we least expected it, and when we didn’t even realise it was presenting itself.

    The slope steepens as we drift away from it, and our burdens lighten as we see hints of it approaching. It’s a to and fro of warm bodies looking for a spark to create something greater than their individual selves, but find themselves lost in the rift between here and somewhere else.

    The hole in your heart can only ever be filled by the one in whose hands rests your soul. Everything else is a distraction, or a stay of execution. The more calm we experience, the closer we are drawn to the sublime. The more clutter, the more ghastly is the silence that visits our soul.

    [I once wrote without concern for the audience, or even for any concern of the rationality of my thoughts. I wrote because it was a momentary breath that filled my lungs beyond the needs. It’s been a while since I’ve felt my lungs fill with the air that once elated me. Now I write in search of those moments that were created when the distractions were what I described, rather than what I sought to embellish.]

  • Final Moments

    cropped-cropped-cropped-cropped-tumblr_mu79gcdgio1qeoyseo4_128013.jpgI’ve always believed that if we were to live a long and painful life, and in the end, in our last few moments, we experienced the absolute serenity and completeness of everything we sought to experience or achieve in our lifetime, the entirety of the pain and struggles of our lives would be easily forgotten. It would still feel like a complete and beautiful life, because the intensity of the struggles before that point would directly inform the intensity of gratitude and peace we would feel when experiencing it. But only if we live in the present moment. Otherwise we’ll lose that beautiful moment cursing at its late arrival while still yearning for the past to have been different.

    Zaid Ismail

  • Contaminated (Part II)

    We live in times where the inclination to remedy a fall far outweighs any rationale to prevent the fall from happening. We’ll willingly encourage others towards intoxicants or unhealthy distractions, and then form support groups to help them out of that addictive state, while refusing to condemn the bad advice we gave in the first place. Accountability is only celebrated if it doesn’t disrupt the oblivion of the masses. Those that threaten such disruption are spurned for being callous, cruel, or arrogant, often accused of thinking that they’re better than everyone else. In short, we condone that which reflects our own weaknesses not because we believe in its wholesomeness, but because we feel more human in recognising the shared weakness in others. More than this, it makes us feel less inferior when we believe that we share shortcomings with others, rather than falling short of expectation by our solitary selves alone.

    It’s not about being better than everyone else any more. These days, it’s simply about not being worse. There was a time in human history that I imagine the focus to have been on competing to excel in human endeavours. People would have exerted themselves to achieve noble goals that served as inspiration to others to want to rise up and pursue even greater heights. It’s quite different today. Today, it seems as if we compete to see who is able to dominate through any means possible, where the level of domination is celebrated, without any concern for the means or methods that achieved such domination, except where those means and methods threaten our ability to actively compete.

    I’ve been fascinated by the term ‘fully formed adults’ ever since I first read it a few years ago, but my fascination quickly turns to disgust as I look around and struggle to find specimens that exhibit such qualities. Semi formed adults raise calloused and contaminated children. Children that grow up under semi formed adults face trials and hardships that are entirely avoidable, and fully surmountable, but they often shy away from the challenge of rising above because when they raise their gaze looking for a role model to guide them, they see nothing but more contamination of a society that is full of semi formed adults. It’s therefore little wonder why they themselves succumb to the same cycle.

    Regardless of how harsh our childhood may have been, we all reach a point of independence in life where we are able to feed or break the cycles that raised us. Critical thought is spurned as rebellion and disrespect because semi formed adults lack the skills and self-worth to effectively navigate their way through critical thought processes. The stigma associated with failure is so harsh that even in the face of absolute failure we’ll find a euphemism to describe our sorry state. Anything is better than admitting failure. It’s this same insincere and tainted social setting that continues to lay down a path of strife and distraction for children looking for meaning and purpose in life.

    In the absence of a critical mass of fully formed adults, those that try to break the cycles are placed with a burden that is tenfold relative to the effort that would be needed to raise a balanced and confident child. It’s a constant struggle of trying to convince or influence the child towards a wholesome standard while they are bombarded with the unhealthy standard of the semi formed adults that they’re surrounded with. Isolation from such a malformed society is not an option. When we disengage, we lose the right to judge, criticise, or cry foul.

    We need to stop raising children. We need to start raising adults. This mindset that has contaminated the world in recent centuries that childhood must be enjoyed with abandon so that we can start being adults when we reach a certain age needs to be abandoned. This distinction between childhood and adult life is misguided. It’s not about age, it’s about awareness and accountability. We should expect greater accountability as we progress through the stages of self-awareness and awareness of our surroundings. The same way we expect a child to stop wetting the bed once they have been taught the value of hygiene and the skill of using the toilet, we should continue to hold them to such levels of accountability in action and behaviour as they continue to acquire new skills.

    But adults that had a contaminated childhood often project those regrets on the children under their care. Instead of raising the standard against which they raise their children, they embellish the esteem of the child with gestures that convince them, the adults, that they’re doing a better job than the raising that created the flaws that they despise about themselves.

    The common undertone and theme in society these days is one of demand, but little supply. We’re all demanding to be recognised for the struggles of our lives, and to be judged based on the gravity of those struggles, while remaining entirely oblivious to the fact that we are merely spawning another generation of victims that will take our efforts and raise it further. Their demands will be ever more destructive and selfish, and the erosion of society that we universally lament will continue on its downward spiral until a group of inspired young souls will look upon the generations that came before them with a sense of contempt and disbelief. The inheritance of wholesomeness that should have been passed down will be absent, and in such total absence they may finally resolve to correct the path that they’re on, rather than continuing the toxic cycle in search of affirmations and validations for experiences that hold no sway over the next generation.

    Adults that still place their insecurities and weaknesses before the well being of those that look up to them deserve a special kind of scorn. We all have the ability and the capacity to actively reflect on how we are perceived by others so that we can take steps to embellish our images in ways that would earn us praise. This is regardless of upbringing or value system. It is entirely based on who we wish to view us admiringly, and how we wish to feel about their gaze on us. We therefore cannot argue that such reflection in the betterment of our characters and moral assets is impossible simply because we were raised by a calloused or contaminated society. The resolve and courage exists for us to change the way we live our lives. The motivation however, is lacking, because it is significantly easier to fulfil an expectation of a consumerist society than it is to raise the expectations of the next generation.

    [end rant]

  • Friends for Enemies

    Friends. I’ve always found this to be a quaint notion. Something that offers a sense of endearing companionship while providing a comforting distraction from our isolation in this world. I’m obviously cynical on the subject because I’ve experienced and witnessed true friendship quickly recede when reality became unpalatable. So I wonder if there is really something called true friendship?

    I think it’s all about that beautiful old principle about what’s in it for me. More than this, it also relates to our inflated sense of self, and how well the friendship nurtures that self-image. There are memes in abundance regarding the nature of true friends that would point out your shortcomings and not only make you feel good. But there are unfortunately not nearly an abundance of friends who want their shortcomings pointed out.

    One of my favourite sayings in this regard has been attributed to a number of different historical personalities, but its truth remains…well, true. It says that the friend of my enemy is my enemy, which in turn implies that the enemy of my friend is also my enemy. I guess that also means that the friend of my friend is my friend and the enemy of my enemy is also my friend. Anyway, point is, those that hate what we hate find a sense of association with what we value, and vice versa. Most would confine the understanding of this with just the relationship that they maintain with others, but I think it goes beyond that. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that it is more accurate to view this within the context of our characters, and which good or bad traits we recognise as friends or foe.

    Within the above context, suddenly the person that hates my bad traits and looks to encourage me to abandon such traits becomes my friend. However, that assumes that I sincerely want to improve that aspect about myself. It assumes that the bad trait is not something I hold on to as a definition of my self relative to a defence I need to prevail in this world. It assumes that I live with conviction, and that I strive to improve with every day that is offered to me. That’s a grossly inaccurate assumption. I struggle to find people that actively and sincerely seek to better themselves. To recognise their shortcomings and to bravely embrace the changes that are needed to raise the standard of their contribution to this world.

    Most are bent on embracing those struggles or shortcomings that resonate with others, and nothing more. When we show the world how brave we are to face off what everyone else is struggling with, it feeds our ego more than it develops our character. It proclaims that we are bold while others are meek, and in so doing gives us the courage to fight that good fight that defeats so many. And so we prop up our egos and assume that we’re sincere about improving who we are, while in the process convincing the shallow ones that we are indeed striving to improve. Yes, I speak with contempt of such endeavours because it only entrenches the insincerity that has eroded the wholesomeness of society and life in this self-indulgent world.

    The one who reflects, recognises the ugly inside of them, and then simultaneously celebrates the beauty within, is more likely to demonstrate gratitude for their lot in life than the one who only sees the ugly and tries to disguise it as a noble struggle. Those that live their lives out in the social network limelight need the affirmation that is lacking when they look within. They need to see themselves through the lenses of others because their own lenses offer little or no comfort at all. Their enemies become their friends, and robs them of peace and energy as they go through life painstakingly maintaining the defenses that they need to make them feel whole.

    The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The one who recognises the ugly in me and sincerely advises me about it is the one whom I should embrace. Not the one who convinces me that my darkness within is not a bad thing because everyone else has it. Not the one who tries to convince me that my darkness or my handicaps are not so bad because they want me to pull them closer for making me feel better about myself. They are self-serving at my expense, and I am left wanting because of it.

    With friends like these, indeed, who needs enemies. Friends or enemies both offer the opportunity for growth, but only if we are honest in our reflections and introspections about who we really are, and what we stand for. If we’re comfortable glossing over our shortcomings because we’re more inclined to celebrate our few strengths or successes, it will be a short while before we lose our footing and feel the stench of complacency strangle the peace out of our lives because at some point, everyone gets that wake-up call. Everyone has an innate desire to shrug off the yoke that has held them back for so long and to move forward with or without the significant others that pacified them while they carried that yoke around. That’s when relationships are truly forged and defined, or discarded.

    But it requires courage, and it requires conviction, and it requires brutal honesty, all of which are in short supply in a world of instant gratification where friends can be acquired and lifetime companions can be discarded in favour of a synthetic life. The more virtual our reality, the less real our lives will be. But death is not a virtual outcome. It’s not the end of a level or the expiration of a time limit on some game with in-app purchases. Perhaps that should read ‘inept purchases’. That is what we do. We sell our souls in favour of short term gains because we lack the courage to forge ahead into the unknown. We seek the comfort of certainty in the outcomes of our decisions, and therefore make decisions when we can rely on the predictable outcome, rather than making decisions because we uphold the principles that we profess to live by.

    Still think you have friends? In fact, still think you’re capable of being your own best friend? Go on, be honest. I dare you!

  • Finding Balance (Part 2)

    I need to step back from my life in order to regain an objective view (if that’s possible) of whether or not I am investing my time, energy, and resources as effectively as possible. Recently I’ve been contemplating how easily distracting it is to be coping well while losing sight of the fact that in coping we end up reacting, rather than owning.

    Life happens based on what we perceive as being a priority. As we invest in those priorities, be they people or material outcomes, they increase or decrease in value for us. When we find ourselves enjoying success in any of them, we invest more. If we find a sense of fulfilment or joy in them, we invest more. Eventually, we focus on the success and the outcomes and how that makes us feel, while forgetting to question whether or not the investment is still in line with our original purpose for making the investment. In other words, we end up investing in our ego as the priority, with the original objective becoming a secondary concern.

    It’s this cycle that I’m weary of. I pause for brief moments at times, and sometimes I’m caused to pause by health or other events, and in that brief moment I notice how little of my life is firmly in hand. Not from a controlling perspective, but from a deliberate investment perspective. How much of what I do am I doing because it is what I intended or needed to do, versus how much of it is purely because I am responding out of obligation or habit?

    Part of the challenge of surrounding yourself with people that either don’t know you as well as they need to (often through no fault of their own but because of how inaccessible certain parts of us are) is that we have less sources of objective but meaningful criticism. This is exacerbated when we find ourselves surrounded by those that are at a life stage that we may have passed, or because they respect or admire us so much that they see no fault. When this becomes the make up of our social circles, be it significant others or professional acquaintances, we risk becoming heroes in our own minds.

    The balance that eludes me is that despite being significantly productive by average standards, I am nagged with thoughts that I am not achieving nearly as much as I am capable of doing. The clutter, the noise, the distractions, and even the productive moments are so loosely strung together that the thread is almost invisible. Gaining visibility of that thread that pulls it all together will allow me to determine if its my own thread, or am I just a bead on someone else’s necklace? [That’s a weird analogy but I’m going to leave it there for now].

    I need my own string of pearls. Costume jewellery (or junk jewellery as I prefer to call it) is far too easy to acquire and model into designs that are sparkly in appearance but lacking in true value. I need to ensure that the design of my life is in line with my understanding of the higher purpose that I profess to serve. Living responsively pacifies the yearning for movement in life, but it does little for the need for purpose. It’s for this reason that we sometimes find ourselves swamped with responsibility and inclusion, with no shortage of social contribution or familial relations, yet feel empty or unfulfilled.

    More than being appreciated, I think we each have a deeper desire for leaving a legacy. That legacy is not materialistic in nature. Materialism satisfies the ego, not the spirit. The legacy has to testify to the improvement of the quality of life of others, or else our existence remains a commodity, or entirely inconsequential. Being inconsequential tears away at souls more often than we realise. It comes disguised as lacking in influence, or waiting for love, or even hoping for specific outcomes that are beyond our realistic reach. When our will to acquire that which remains elusive eventually fades, that’s when the feelings of being inconsequential set in; followed promptly by depression, self-loathing, lack of motivation, and often self-harm (not always with a blade either).

    To avoid these pitfalls, I need to take time to step back, to observe and to account for the way in which my life is being expended. I see it as a traditional scale with the weight of my contribution to others on one side, and my extraction of benefit or personal gain on the other. The former must always be heavier, but never so heavy that it bottoms out. If it bottoms out, it means that I have failed to show due appreciation for myself, and for the abilities I have to contribute towards others. It means that I’ve become a martyr rather than a champion, or a pawn rather than a participant. And if the latter is weighed down, it means that I have become self-indulgent, quite possibly seeing others with contempt, ungrateful for what I have or receive, and a liability rather than an asset to society.

    The quiet moments are needed for this to re-form to a shape that is wholesome and beneficial without detracting from the reality of my life. The outcome cannot be a dreamy one. It cannot be so superficial or esoteric that it offers little to no tangible value to those around me, or me. Instead, it must be substantial enough to encourage a recalibration of those areas of my life that are excessive in nature, or investment. It must provide a semblance of solace, and a tone that harmonises, without detracting from the responsibility that I have to act under circumstances that are not of my choosing nor of my preference.

    Finding that balance, in many ways, embellishes the purpose of life. In fact, without it, there can be no purpose worth pursuing.