Tag: rage

  • Expecting hope

    Expecting hope

    Expectations are simply hopes with a sense of entitlement.

    The reason for our entitlement to the fulfilment of our hopes are many. Most often, they’re based on what we contributed towards others.

    Sometimes we want that contribution reciprocated because we don’t want to allow others to treat us unfairly, or to take us for granted.

    But sometimes, we hold on to that entitlement because we want the treasures of who we are to be handled with love and gentleness by a specific other.

    Both are based on the hope of what the outcome offers us in happiness and fulfilment. Or even just in achieving a sense of significance.

    Unfortunately, if expectations are not mutually honoured, it becomes a burden for one, and a prison for the other.

    The good news is, both are choices. The burden and the prison. But they weigh us down until we recognise that they’re choices.

    More importantly, until we are willing to let go of the choice to hold on after we’ve exhausted all efforts to achieve its fulfilment, it will continue to feel like a burden or a prison that is imposed, and not one that is chosen.

    Choose wisely…choose consciously.

  • The forgotten village idiot

    The forgotten village idiot

    This essay has been playing on my mind a lot lately.

    Covid-19 has revealed the true nature of many, which only served to reinforce this notion.

    Who puts a smile on the face of the village idiot?

    The saddest part of this essay is that most who read the title thought it to be humorous.

    From my book The Egosystem, it explores our relationship with those who give selflessly, while being forgotten.

    This pandemic has highlighted the forgotten and the taken-for-granted, and it has diminished further the roles of others who are not deemed essential through need, but who maintain the wellbeing and spirit of others through quiet contribution.

    I’ve always considered what this world would feel like if we didn’t label the purpose or the need that we have of others, and instead we were compelled to choose very deliberately each time what it is that we value about another before we are able to obtain benefit from them.

    Would that be the cure for the pandemic of consumerism? Would it finally rid us of our inclination to see people as a means to an end?

    Or is even that an ideal so far fetched that only the most naive would buy into it?

  • Blind rage

    Blind rage

    Sometimes we get so caught up in our anger at the world that we lose sight of the fact that our anger feeds the very same cycles that we’ve grown to despise.

    Don’t get angry.

    If you can influence positive change, do it. If not, walk away.

    Insisting on rage after you’ve realised that you are unable to influence positive change is an indulgence of your ego and not a righteous protest.

    It’s not worth it.

    The rage within often blinds us from the oppression that we impose on others.

    The rage starts to build up after we’ve experienced oppression at the hands of others, but if left unchecked, it eventually clouds our judgement as we seek vengeance from anyone that reminds us of those who treated us badly.

    When you find a reason to rage at every assumed threat, peace becomes elusive and bitterness takes over.

    Find a balance between righting the wrongs and inspiring others to rise above your own experiences, otherwise all you’ll be left with is rage and no fulfilment, nor peace in this lifetime.

  • Ready to Rage

    Ready to Rage

    When tolerance levels are breached, rage is an inevitable next step. It’s like the boundaries of fear that are overcome in moments of desperation when the realisation sets in that remaining true to our current approach, is as meaningless or ineffective as throwing caution to the wind, and demanding what we need, or want. But, in that lies the problem.

    My tolerance levels are defined by me, not anyone else. Each time I give in to the breach of it, to the rage or the demands that bubble beneath the surface of my emotions, I find myself buying into the assumption that in doing so, that final act of desperation where reason has failed me will, in fact, yield the responses that I want, or expect. But that assumption is what is incorrect.

    Assuming that others care enough to honour your needs or requests is an assumption based on entitlement. Or maybe not. Nonetheless, demands only ever result in compliance at best, but rarely, if ever, respect. And thus, I find myself reminding myself that we cannot give what we don’t have. If I lack tolerance, it means that I lack patience, or that I embrace entitlement. It’s a fine line between sanity and pacifism. At which point do we accept and move on, and in the process compromise what we stand for, versus stand our ground and demand a change in behaviour from others?

    Pacifism, or the need to turn the other cheek does nothing to correct the unwelcome behaviour of those that assume that they are entitled, and in the process trample on the rights and dignity of others. The balance must lie somewhere between being driven by the principle of it all, and desiring that they realise the value of upholding such principles.

    That desire is what challenges us in our moments of weakness. Moments when we experience the intensity of the void of not being served as we serve, or appreciated as we appreciate. Moments when our respect is assumed to be expected, and our concern is assumed to be neediness or interference. Those moments test our merits and our resolve in being able to set aside what we need, in favour of what we wish to see realised in the lives of those around us.

    Rage if you must. But remember that rage will only ever allow you to vent in the moment at hand without any benefit for the future. If nothing else, it may reveal the truth of the sentiments of the ones that you hold in high regard, but as always, be sure that when you prompt such a response, you must be ready to embrace the answer.

    Rage if you must. But rage with purpose, and let that purpose be enabled through actions that create rather than destroy the very outcome that you hope to achieve. Let your rage inspire you to act, but not to impose. Let your rage drive you to change that which you despise or find lacking, but don’t let it convince you that you are entitled to a favourable response. Nor are you entitled to righting the wrong that you find problematic.

    Recognise your rage as the source of the intensity of your passion. Then, feed that passion, not the rage. The world is full of raging beasts, each demanding their significance without earning it. Or demanding such significance from those that have no interest in appreciating them. Don’t add to that rage. Replace it with passion, and purpose. Replace it with a conviction in who you are, and not who you demand others to be. The former is the beginning of the path towards peace, and the latter is the path towards hell on earth.

    Let your rage bring peace where imbalance thrives. Let it inspire others to rise with conviction, rather than fight with abandon. Most importantly, let your rage never be unbridled, because in that is the root of losing ourselves to the very same contempt that we hold of those that breed such contempt into this world.

    Be better than that.

  • The Projection of Rage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    [This turned out to be more cryptic than intended]