Tag: pride

  • Take stock, and reconnect

    Take stock, and reconnect

    Stepping back and taking stock requires more than just an arrest of the ego.

    It requires a desire to return to a point of sincerity and authenticity in our lives when we were filled with hope about the future, after finding ourselves filled with a longing for the past instead.

    Arresting the ego becomes easier if we believe that what we stand to gain is more valuable than having to swallow our pride.

    But sometimes, pride is all that defines us.

    If you find yourself in that space, know that you’ve abandoned your true self in favour of how you wish to be perceived by others.

    Sometimes, pride pushes us to follow through on a bad decision because it sucks to give our enemies something to mock us about.

    You know what sucks more?

    Living a crappy life because you didn’t want to give your enemies a single moment to mock a bad decision.

    Own Your Shit. Own Your Life.

  • Conviction

    I always assumed that the key driver that prevented people from making the changes in their lives that they knew needed to be made was a lack of courage. That lack of courage I always assumed to be the result of fear to embrace the new while giving up the comfort zone or the dysfunction that we’ve grown to cope with. But after an interesting discussion with an undefined acquaintance yesterday I realised that there may be another dynamic to all this that I failed to notice. That dynamic is the issue of pride. Pride is what keeps most of us stuck in ways that we know are sub-optimal in our lives, but we stubbornly persist in our ways because backing down is so strongly associated with failure.

    I think in that lies the key to understanding the influence that pride has on our convictions. Convictions, I’ve always believed, is a reflection of priorities. That which we place more emphasis on will receive a greater investment of energy, while everything else will fall in line behind that. So if the way we’re perceived by others is a higher priority than the way we find contentment in our personal space, then it stands to reason that we will nurture those behaviours that sustain that perception rather than make the adjustments that will give us peace. Say hello to chronic ailments and mental disorders. But I’ll leave that rant for another time.

    The cycle doesn’t start/stop there because the question then arises as to what it is that influences the priorities that we choose for ourselves? The fact that these priorities are a result of an evolutionary process as we grow and is most often not a distinctive thought process that we experience consciously implies that we’re mostly unaware of these priorities that drive us. I guess in this case priorities are pretty much the choices we make in life. When those choices are well-informed, they serve us well. When they’re not, they drive us towards nurturing perceptions rather than substance.

    The underlying drivers that prompt us to make these choices are our beliefs in our ability to be successful in the choices we make. More simply stated, if we are confident we’ll be successful, we’ll be more inclined to pursue the change or the improvement. But if we doubt our ability to reach that goal, we’ll compensate by finding distractions or excuses as to why it’s not possible or important for us to pursue it. That’s where that pride factor comes in. The more proud we are, the less likely we’ll be to expose ourselves to situations where failure is a real possibility. The only time we pursue such ‘risky’ endeavours is if we believe that the repercussions of not doing so would be more severe than the repercussions of failure, which brings us back to the issue of priorities.

    If it’s more important for me to maintain the façade I created about the perception of success that I think others hold of me, I will sacrifice relationships or rights that others have over me, because fulfilling those rights or maintaining those relationships is not as important to me as being perceived as a success. Success in this case is not limited to material targets or wealth, but can also relate to simple things like being seen as independent, aloof, or righteous, to name a few examples.

    Taking all this back to the opening thoughts, the correlation between the perception of failure if we back down, versus the pride of not wanting to be seen as a failure explains why it is that even in the face of overwhelming odds, we sometimes hold on to behaviours that we know are detrimental to our wellbeing. When the motivation to move forward is greater than the motivation to maintain the façade, that is when conviction will triumph over cowardice. However, I guess if we really wanted to, we could argue that conviction in maintaining the façade is what drives that behaviour as well, so it may be safe to say that conviction can be misguided if pride steps into the equation. And pride, as we know, is a result of focusing on what others think of us rather than being true to what we think of ourselves.

    Perhaps conviction is more accurately associated with the latter, as in how we perceive ourselves? Pride prevents honesty in that introspection process because if we perceive ourselves through the eyes of others, we immediately curtail perspectives that may uncover flaws that we know will detract from that perception. This thought process is exhausting. I think that’s a pretty accurate reflection of why most people avoid it, and as a result, why we have so few that act with meaningful conviction and so many that behave like attention whores or victims to society. I suspect there isn’t much difference between the two.

  • The Art of Insincerity

    One of the most common observations that people share about me is that they know where they stand with me. I’m the one that usually speaks everyone else’s mind for them when they lack the courage to be bold. I don’t do this deliberately, I do it out of frustration. That frustration stems from the realisation that whining in private never changes what irks us in public.

    Initially my inclination to speak out is based on a belief that those that are silent are in fact oppressed in some form or another. It’s a belief that drives me to be convinced that if given a shoulder to lean on, or a support structure from which to draw strength, people will inherently find more reason to be true to themselves, and in so doing, act with greater conviction in the face of obstacles, or oppression. Such idealism has never served me well.

    The reality is closer to people wanting to be liked more than they care about fighting any good fight. Popularity is what drives us more than conviction. Perhaps this is why leaders are despised in the making, but revered in office. We judge harshly those that push for change when such change disrupts our own comfort zones, but feel no qualms about indulging in the benefits of the new realities created by the same people we once despised, often even proudly claiming affiliation with the struggle that brought about the much needed change.

    Glory hunters. That’s all we are. To be associated with that which is perceived as popular or meritorious by those we idolise is what drives our conviction. Pride of association. It’s a powerful tool to influence the masses. But it comes at a price. The price we pay for it is the isolation we feel when we realise that we’re simply the pawns of the masses in the run up to the turning of the tide.

    The art of insincerity is best displayed in that final phase of a tough project when all the naysayers suddenly rally around being fully supportive as if they were by your side all along, drooling with the anticipation of sharing in the glory of the achievement that everyone thought you insane to pursue in the first place. That’s when the ambivalence sets in because despite the obvious hypocrisy, you need them to appreciate the benefits of the endeavour, because without those very same consumers, the outcome will be redundant no matter how brilliant the solution.

    This is true in both work and life. The fact that we still have good reason to differentiate between the two is sad, but that is a topic for another day’s ramblings. So it seems the art of insincerity is a reciprocal one. It’s one of the times when holding fast to higher principles will erode the value of the outcome. Sanity can only be salvaged through the adjustment of our expectations. If we expect sincerity, we’ll be distracted from our purpose. But that demands a reciprocation of insincerity, because if we don’t have an expectation of sincerity, then by default we accept that demanding less than what we would ideally want is in itself insincere relative to our convictions. In so doing, we too will master the art of insincerity that we so vehemently despise in others.

    I guess the test of life might lie in being a better hypocrite than the next. I think we call that political correctness, no?

  • 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.