Tag: Principles

  • The Silent Statement

    My thoughts are often as complicated to grasp as my writing is to read. I sometimes read through some of my older posts and wonder how anyone could have gotten the point when I struggle to follow the thought process myself. I used to relate it all much more simplistically in the past. It was relatable, not just to me, but to others that it resonated with. It’s not so easy to relate anymore. I find myself slowly receding into silence again. It’s like I’ve come full circle without having completed the journey. The contradiction glares at me while I try to make sense of it all.

    Silence often says more than any vocal statement we make. It’s the language of both lies and compassion. For me, it’s the language of understanding. When I’m inclined to believe that my perspective will most likely be misunderstood or unappreciated, I tend towards silence. It’s my restraint and my statement. It restrains me from verbalising much that will be found offensive, often because of the harsh truth it contains given my poor bedside manner, and it’s my statement because I choose not to engage about something that I believe will not have a meaningful outcome. That’s how I use silence to make my statement.

    Unfortunately there are too many that use it for very different reasons, the most common of which is to avoid being perceived unfavourably. In those moments when the truth is needed for closure, to understand the reasons for betrayal, or to know why the good we put forward was reciprocated with dishonesty or insincerity, silence cuts sharper and deeper than any harsh truths that could have been offered. In those moments the silent one tries desperately to hide their shame while maintaining a facade of arrogance or feigned hurt. Silence, in moments like those, is employed for no reason but to save the betrayer from having to share the truth of their betrayal.

    I think it gets worse when we hold the key to justice but deny the rights of the victims when we choose not to get involved because of the potential repercussions for us. At times when world powers abstain from voting or acting against rogue nations or human scum in order to retain political alliances, their silence does to the victims of those oppressors what the silence of a lover does to their no-longer-beloved. The impact is the same, it’s only the scale that differs.

    Every betrayal destroys a soul, and every soul holds within it an entire world. Each betrayal forces a reinvention of that soul, and each reinvention creates a more brittle soul. Brittle is not necessarily weak. It simply becomes more unpredictable as it gets closer to its limit. Fortunately for most, that limit is significantly more than most because of the reinventions. But when it is reached, the brittle snap that ensues leaves a wake of destruction that can rarely be understood.

    But there’s a more important point I wanted to make about how we use silence for selfish purposes. Perhaps my use of silence is not as noble as I’d like to believe it is. Perhaps just writing this post will provide insights that will disarm me at important moments when others will correctly interpret my silence and take the offence I was hoping to spare them instead. Perhaps there will be none of that because as we’ve seen so often, a shared sin is often overlooked because the collective guilt pacifies our conscience anyway.

    I think we all use silence in this way. I think the silence we maintain at times when we should be outspoken or brutally honest reflects our priorities in that moment. If speaking out will result in an increase of clutter or responsibility beyond what we currently wish to bear, then silence becomes the obvious choice.

    Another incomplete thought process. I know there is a truth in there somewhere…but like life, the essence of it eludes me.

  • Trials of Success

    Too often we consider the hardships of our lives to be the trials we endure. Trials, however, are relative to our perception of what our true goals are in life. In our aspirations to be successful, or more accurately as is true in most cases, to be perceived as successful by others, it’s easy to be distracted into believing that that perception is in fact the goal. If the higher priority is how I’m perceived, and the lesser priority is what convictions I am loyal to, it stands to reason that I will lose sight of my convictions and find myself to be unfulfilled when the taste of success brushes my palate.

    I struggle to speak plainly these days. I think this struggle is related to the audience that I have become aware of. I miss the days when I was able to quietly contemplate the fascination of life without a need to articulate, share it, or worse still, get affirmation for it. The more I exposed my thoughts and philosophies to others, the more I attracted like-minded individuals into my space. At first this offered comfort given my need to be sane. Sanity, for me, was determined by whether or not the logic in my head was relatable to the people that I perceived as having normal and clutter-free lives. Little did I know it was all a mirage.

    I once read that if everyone were to throw their problems into a pile for everyone else to see, we’d all reach in to take our own problems back, because the problems of others will seem that much more daunting. Perception is probably the true currency of human engagement. We polarise towards that which appears to reflect our struggles or aspirations, assuming that our perception of the same defines its purity as well. These are the mirages we create for ourselves, especially when we’re so outwardly focused that we forget the ‘why’ that exists internally only.

    It is the same ‘why’ that is lost when we find success in a public setting. Setting out to change the world is a goal we set when we’re not popular because that isolation often gives us a raw view of everything we think is wrong with the world. That perception changes as we begin to access the niceties. The trinkets that feed the ego and extend our spheres of influence, leading us to believe that changing the world is suddenly possible, and not just an angst-driven dream of a teenager. But soon after this realisation dawns the realisation that in order to continue influencing, we need to remain relevant. Unfortunately, that relevance was spawned from the success we enjoyed when our isolated thoughts became mainstream to those around us. That is the fork in the road right there.

    The struggle that I struggle to articulate this morning is that remaining focused on the change I hoped to inspire in the world becomes increasingly difficult as the popularity and its fruit grows. Suddenly I find myself distracted by the subconscious desires I held as a child when I saw the popular kids being smothered with attention and acceptance while I remained the odd one on the outside of the circle peering in. The thirst that went unquenched for so long is suddenly blinding in its fulfillment. It’s akin to that moment when breaking fast on a hot day and taking that first sip of ice cold water. The struggle of the entire day of going without food or water instantly dissipates and is quickly replaced by the intense satisfaction of being able to trace every droplet of relief as it ran through my body fulfilling a need that is so base in its nature, that no amount of success or attention could surpass it at that moment.

    Sad then to note that the innate desires that went unfulfilled can so easily overtake lifelong convictions in a moment of acceptance. Acceptance by the same groups that we once saw as part of the problem. The attention whoring that goes with success is ironical. It’s the rise to fame that in fact becomes our fall from grace. But it’s a fall that only we can recognise internally, but rarely do we allow it to be on show externally.

    I suspect that I have said much without saying anything at all. The struggle to articulate becomes stronger as I find my philosophies embraced. The need to recede echoes louder than ever. I must withdraw from the charade before I become one with the mirage. If this is the angst I feel with such a small dose of popularity, how much more vacuous must be the existence of those that actively court such popularity instead?

  • 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.

     

  • Mental Masturbation

    Walking through the city of London (while attending a conference recently) and observing the locals and tourists alike, I found myself contemplating a lot of truths we take for granted back home. I use the word ‘truth’ lightly in this case because much of how we perceive the world is based on conditioning and indoctrination rather than inherent truths. If we are to assume that the perception of our reality remains to be true for us at least, then let us accept that that is the truth that we all hold ourselves to serve.

    This would beg the question as to how those truths are informed. Hence conditioning and indoctrination. The reason these two points are so important is because very few of us are products of our traditional upbringing these days. Even those traditional upbringings are questionable because of influences that they inherited in centuries or eons passed. And so the waters that provide bouyancy to the truth become muddied even further. But back to London.

    I stood in awe, quite literally, at how many tourists were smitten by the old buildings that hold absolutely no significance in their lives. More than this, I was also flummoxed by the crudity that I saw around me that was being celebrated as dignity. Before you accuse me of elitism, or being judgemental, please refer to the previous paragraph. Growing up as an Indian in South Africa and therefore having been conditioned by the simultaneous brainwashing of an educational system with roots in English colonialism, and the cultural force of apartheid, I was also raised to believe in the superiority of the white race and the radiant historical significance of monuments like the Voortrekker Monument and Big Ben, or the nobility of purpose in the founding occupational forces that landed in the Cape of Good Hope so many centuries ago, or the present occupational force of reverse racism that lands it butt in the butter each day that it takes its seat in parliament. And that’s when it struck me, not for the first time though, that the significance attached to these icons are simply notions that we subscribe to.

    A flag is only a piece of cloth that has a pretty design on it until the ones in power imbue it with a symbolism beyond its innate nature. Those that are subservient will therefore defend this symbolism to the death and lose sight of the truth behind it. And so my mind wandered as I wandered while I noticed the conflicts welling up inside of me. As I walked through St James’ Park I kept thinking ‘Zoo Lake’ in my mind. (The Zoo Lake is the equivalent destination in Johannesburg). Then I walked down the streets of perfectly manicured trees that lined both sides with a beautiful shade of green and I was reminded of the northern suburbs of Johannesburg. And as I continued my travels through the city I kept finding myself drawing parallels between what I experienced in this foreign land and what I have available to me in my own homeland. With one key difference. Access to resources.

    That realisation was accompanied by its own conflicts. On the one hand, we couldn’t compete with the global investors that pump wealth into this region in order to gain more wealth out of it, but on the other, we probably have proportionally equal amounts of wealth being squandered through corruption and incompetence. The difference? While walking through London I got a distinct sense of a collective pride that everyone had in what their country offered. It was in fact nauseating to flip through channel after channel in the hotel room only to see some or other aspect of the English lifestyle being celebrated as superior to anything else. That’s what we lack. Collective pride.

    And so, in the absence of such pride, we turn on each other. We become opportunists looking to get what we can from what is available, with very little focus on giving back. We tolerate corruption by contributing to it, and we condone poor service delivery by squeezing the blood out of our labourers. There is no nation, let alone nation building. We bicker, we complain, we criticise, and we loathe, and the contradiction in this statement does not escape me, which brings me to the title of this post.

    We’re a nation of mental masturbators. Extremely eloquent in defining responses or solutions, but lethargically poor at building unity and serving each other. And I noticed this same tendency building up inside of me as I walked through the streets of London, forming essay after essay in my mind about how we could be even greater if we had access to the same kind of resources, etc. all the while knowing that that is not true. If we had access to more resources than we already have, we’d just take corruption to a greater level, and dish out incompetence in greater portion sizes.

    Watching the madness around Nkhandla and seeing the president laugh mockingly at the same nation he is supposed to be serving, and juxtaposing that against the American president that was dragged through the coals simply for getting a blow job, and it becomes plainly clear that we view illicit sex that others envy as infinitely more detrimental to society than showing the middle finger to the poor and downtrodden, and then speaking of it as if you are above it. That, in my mind, is the worst form of mental masturbation. The ability to speak authoritatively of morals and values when you’re the same scum that sets the standard and consistently raises the bar for such despicable norms, and then still insisting on dignity while robbing the very same people that put you in power of the dignity that they actually pay for.

    Sitting back and decrying our state because of the legacy of apartheid is again, mental masturbation. 21 years. That’s enough time to raise a child, put them through school, followed by university and pretty much obtain a degree, yet we have adults (read ‘idiots’) in power who are supposed to be educated while surrounded by the best advisers of their choice that still think that their downright incompetence and moral corruption is a result of apartheid. No, it’s simply self-loathing greed. Self-loathing because no one with an ounce of self-respect will conduct themselves as despicably as our leaders do. Unfortunately they are the icons that the masses subscribe to. But I recall my initial reaction to Big Ben when I first saw it. I also flipped out my cell phone to take that first pic, with the realisation of its impotence only dawning on me later.

    So I find it difficult, as frustrating as it is, to judge harshly those that continue to vote for the cancer that is eroding the fabric of our nation. It leaves me with one defining realisation. While the non-white in South Africa may not have enjoyed much dignity in the eyes of the ruling elite at the time, we had dignity among ourselves. Now that apartheid is gone, it seems we gave up that dignity in our pursuit of the trinkets that propped up our apartheid masters but sinking one level lower. That lower level that we’ve succumbed to is because at least during apartheid we all took care of our own kind, both the whites and non-whites alike. Now, we’re too selfish and morally depraved to do even that.

    So any criticism of the moral decay that we see around us is nothing more than mental masturbation from a nation that has sold its soul in favour of the aspirations of its apartheid masters. Ubuntu? Did I hear someone mention Ubuntu? Don’t make me laugh. We’ve lost even that simple truth and traded it in for individual enrichment.

  • 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.

  • The Rabbit Hole of Insecurity

    I’ve always found that there is no shortage of people to advise you on what to do in life, but very few that can show you how. I see people telling each other all the time to be happy, don’t stress, be confident, don’t feel overwhelmed, and so much more, but every single time I’m reminded of how such advice is almost entirely pointless unless the recipient is clearly aware of what they’re doing to get them into that unpleasant state to begin with. But we’re so used to taking comfort from distractions that even now when presented with such empty advice we find comfort in it. Not because the advice is useful, but because it implies that someone cares enough to notice that we’re not in a pleasant space. How fickle.

    Fickleness is pervasive. But like I always maintain, pervasive ignorance should never be mistaken for collective wisdom. Just because we are able to console each other with vague gestures of compassion or concern does not mean we actually do care. We give more of ourselves when we share the lessons of the weaknesses we hold, or have succumbed to, than when we hand out trinkets of wisdom that merely embellish the façade of composure or success that we wish to present. Because that is exactly what it is. I’ve found that when I grow oblivious to my ego due to a lack of attention over an extended period of time, I quickly develop a deep seated confidence in my overt state as being the real me. What I present to the world I am convinced is in fact what I embrace within. Fortunately something or someone usually comes along to challenge that assumption of mine which leaves me unsettled enough to recede while abandoning my pompous disposition.

    The problem lies in the how. But beyond that, the bigger problem lies in our lack of courage to embrace the reality of how unaccomplished we truly are.  When we accept that we have achieved less than we were able to achieve regardless of our best efforts or greatest reasons for having been hampered in our endeavours, only then will we be truly open to learning more than the average life teaches us. I am constantly reminded about how late in life I am gaining the realisations that would have served me well much earlier in life. At times I dismiss it as being irrelevant because my mishaps and failures groomed me into who I am today, ignoring the arrogance that accompanies such a profession, at other times I wonder how much further along this path I may have been had I started out learning some of those lessons from the mistakes of others instead. That would have set me off on a firmer footing that I could have developed further, as opposed to finding it out for myself. It felt like life wasted away in those moments, but my gut suggested otherwise.

    I look at those that are gluttons in their search for knowledge and devour volumes of the sciences of varying interests achieving a state of professional regurgitation and eloquent verbosity, while struggling to apply even a fraction of the gems of wisdom that were revealed between the covers that they repeatedly cracked open purely focused on ingesting, with very little emphasis on applying. Perhaps what restricts our ability to apply the knowledge we have acquired is not necessarily our inability to grasp its essence as needed, but instead it is our insecurity in our ability to execute what it demands that drives us towards complacency, or more accurately, meekness.

    Insecurity is not only unattractive, it is repulsive. Quite literally as well. I find myself repulsed by those that are chronically insecure because of the burden of expectation and indulgence that they solicit, with very little to offer in return. The insecure polarise towards each other and establish circles of back-slappers that reassure each other about their distractions so that the façade they maintain is strengthened through collective practice. The secure ones are often found in smaller groups, if in groups at all. They are the ones that hold a conviction in their beliefs and perspectives which lend them an insight into the frailties of the former group, which in turn prevents them from seeking the validation of those that appear to prevail.

    The masses are weak. By their very nature they thrive on validation and affirmation. They reciprocate in great measures because the exchange is a self-sustaining cycle. It is possible to go through an entire lifetime needing nothing more, and that is perfectly acceptable, unless you are inclined to change the world in your wake. If you wish to improve the state of your self, and in turn, the state of those around you, being a meek member of the masses is never an option. You will thrive on understanding how you found yourself in that pathetic state that jolted you into action, rather than cringing at the thought of being seen as weak.

    The rabbit hole of insecurity is a deep maze that allows little light in. It sets us on a course of distraction that leaves us oblivious to the destruction or even the injustice that we leave in our wake. Courage is defined by our conviction to act on the values and principles that we subscribe to. Those values and principles can only be sufficiently formulated if we choose to see the world with a critical mind. Blindly following others is a symptom of disease. Not only does it rob you of your agency to act consciously, it denies those around you of the value that you are supposed to contribute in their lives and towards their growth. Insecurity is a convenient exit clause from the harsh reality of life. It is a choice, and nothing less. But because it is probably the most common choice made, we have fooled ourselves into believing that it is in fact human nature. If it were human nature, it would not leave us diseased with fear, ill health, and impotence.

  • The Ingratitude of Depression

    During the period in my life when I was diagnosed as being clinically depressed, the thoughts that pervaded my consciousness were always focused on what went wrong, what didn’t work out, why it would be futile to try again, and so on. I felt abused and despondent, let down and betrayed. I looked around for an understanding glance, let alone an embrace, and all I saw were judging eyes and detached hearts. There were some that acted out of obligation, and others that meant well but didn’t have the capacity to contribute meaningfully, and then there was me. Isolated in my thoughts and frustrated at the cycle that kept leaving me on my butt.

    The prescribed medication helped nothing except to give me a locked jaw and a dulled mind. When I emerged from my medicated state my reality remained unaltered, and my options were still bleak. It took a while before I realised that being a victim was a statement of ingratitude. As long as I saw myself as a victim, I discounted my blessings. Any acknowledgement of my blessings was always within the context of how little it mattered in the absence of everything else that I believed I was denied. I despised my state of being, and I was intensely unhappy with the way I was conducting myself.

    Despite it not being a primary concern at the time, I remained aware of the responsibilities that I had towards those around me, although it was focused on the material and physical contributions from my side and little else. Meeting people with a cheerful disposition was optional, and being pleasant when being dutiful would suffice was a state that I seldom chose for myself. My dominant state was one of being occupied with thoughts of my unhappiness with the world, and with those around me that contributed to everything that I was denied. Those that didn’t speak when their words would have made a difference I saw as cowards and hypocrites, and often as opportunists. But even they were beside the point.

    Remaining in a state of depression denied those around me of my non-material contributions that they had a right to. A pleasant environment, a sense of appreciation, a visible gratitude for their presence and contribution in my life, and so much more. It sounds contradictory relative to my complaints, but the truth is that even those that stay out of obligation contribute towards my experiences in ways I mostly only realise much later in life. One story that always comes to mind on this subject is from a workshop facilitator I met very early in my career. I remember him saying that his father was his greatest influence in life. His father used to spend every day all week sitting in his favourite armchair and reading the newspaper without any meaningful engagement with him. It was that persistent sight each day that inspired him to not be like his father. In the absence of that poor example, he may have followed the mainstream and never achieved any great moments.

    But more importantly, it was his choice to take something positive from that experience that made the difference. His father failed him in his right to guidance, a sharing of wisdom, healthy debates and meaningful interactions that would feed a healthy self-esteem, but in the absence of that, he did not allow the actions of his father to define him. He moved on and pursued a greater purpose in spite of his upbringing. And that is what remaining in a state of depression denies us. It denies us the ability to pursue those greater callings, that higher purpose, that vision that seems so beautifully out of reach. In our state of depression, we not only deny the reality of that which we have reason to be grateful for, but we also deny those around us the motivation or reason to be grateful for their lot as well. We will never exist in isolation even when we isolate ourselves. The very nature of our birth tethers us to the human race.

    But there is a rub in all this. As nonsensical as it may sound, neither is happiness nor depression a choice. Instead, they’re both outcomes of pursuing or abandoning a greater purpose respectively. When we lose sight of our purpose, or at least the pursuit of the same, we will find ourselves suppressing our needs for being associated with something greater than our selves, all the while convincing ourselves that we’re incapable or undeserving, only to be faced with the brutal reality of our betrayal while struggling to hold on to the last breaths of our existence.

  • 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.