Tag: reality

  • Distracted Moments

    There are times when the idealistic bull that I see about people’s expectations from their marriages and relationships in general make me want to puke. It goes well beyond just a mild annoyance or a light giggle because it is so pervasive that it makes me wretch. The reason why it has that effect is because it is spewed by those with barely any experience in an unsupervised setting. People that have yet to experience life outside of earshot of their parent’s nurturing stares or comforts of home should really stop short of telling others what they should or shouldn’t tolerate or expect in life or their relationships.

    It’s not a romantic novel waiting to be cracked open, nor is it a fairytale waiting to be lived. Consider this…if the life you’ve been exposed to so far has already made you yearn for such idealistic outcomes, imagine how much more you’ll yearn for when you’ve had that many more experiences behind you which will open your eyes to realities you always thought belonged in someone else’s life?

    Every mistake that you thought you made just once because you’ll know better in future suddenly slaps you with a different glove concealing its cynical lesson that needs to be taught. Every foul-mouthed man or woman that you saw bitterly cursing others or their mere existence suddenly  becomes a point of anxious familiarity rather than a source of pity on a good day. Suddenly they possess the voice that is stifled within you but your cultural subscription prevents you from betraying the facade that is proper.

    Life is not a romantic notion that needs to be pursued. Every single expectation you have will be tested within breaths of you feeling that sense of accomplishment. Accomplishment and fulfilment will be ever elusive because the more you learn, the more you yearn. The greater the detail you notice, the greater the void you see between what you are and what you always wanted to be.

    Servitude, even if embraced with total abandon will not yield the fulfilment you seek. It is like filling that leaking bucket and at times you can fill slightly faster than it leaks, but it always leaks more than the sum of your efforts to fill it. That is how people are. That is how we all are. We only appreciate what is for as long as the sense of comfort it gives is felt by our fickle souls. Once that moment is passed, it quickly fades into a rose coloured yearning for moments to come that we hope will meet the exaggerated memory that we caress of lesser moments that passed.

    The longer the period between what has been and what needs to be, the more intense that slip into the slump of unfulfilled expectations. The very same expectations that we built on the exaggerated recollections of moments that we never fully appreciated while we were mentally distracted by measuring what was being presented against what we presented to others before, or what we believed we deserved in the first place. And so the beauty of the moment is lost, but whose loss is only ever truly grasped in grey moments that finally allow us to be detached from the distractions of that moment for long enough to realise the truth of what we didn’t notice.

    Regret always comes too late. Idealism just ensures that when it arrives, it is accompanied with the tunes of the ballads that stir that longing for what has been so that we are consistently distracted from what is, while stupidly yearning for what will never be.

  • Apparently, it’s my birthday…

    Everyone knows my disdain for such an occasion, yet most still find reason to wish me for it. I’m not sure if that is a testament to their sincerity, or do they just like taunting me. In fact, the latter is probably entirely called for given how often I enjoy taking digs at others about literally anything and everything. My only contention is that this should not be limited to a single day in the year. We forget to celebrate life when we celebrate occasions, but I’ve repeated this so many times over the years that it’s almost starting to sound clichéd to me.

    So if you must, and I say that with absolute affection, then celebrate the advent of the beginning of my torment by meaningfully engaging with me about the things that I am passionate about. Read through my blog and challenge my ideas. Test the veracity of the logic that I proclaim and force me to consider a fresh perspective. Give me a reason to believe that what I am passionate about contributing is in fact a meaningful contribution, and if it’s not, then show me the kindness of making me aware of it so that I may redirect my energies towards that which is more valuable, rather than continuing to ramble about inane philosophical ideals that merely tickle our curiosity but sways none towards a wholesome existence.

    The prompted gift is laced with doubt, but the unexpected gift is smothered in sincerity. Birthdays and other similar occasions that are intended to celebrate our appreciation for those around us simply distract us from their worth the rest of the year. I want to be remembered in a fleeting moment when something that touches you reminds you of me because I may have contributed to that moment of beauty in a way that I might not be aware of. I want to be remembered because when you made that tough decision, you recalled a perspective that I shared with you which empowered you to rise above your struggles and instead saw the opportunity for growth and fulfiment which made my failure meaningful rather than futile.

    Don’t remember me because the occasion calls for it, remember me because my memory calls for an occasion to be celebrated. I don’t have the promise of eternal life, and you don’t have the promise of eternal time to reciprocate everything that you’re grateful for. So waiting for that moment that is prompted, or waiting for the perfect time, or the perfect gift only depletes that which you promised yourself you would celebrate by not taking it for granted. Life. It’s what happens when we’re waiting for it to happen. It is the journey, not the destination, nor the way points. It is every breath you take, not every breath that is taken from you when the occasion calls for it. The way points are milestones towards death. The way points are our moments of pause when we believe predetermined occasions are a celebration of life. The way points caresses our inclination towards procrastination because we convince ourselves that putting something off until a future date that is predetermined by others is in fact progress and not procrastination.

    Celebrate life with me, and let birthdays be the silent death of mediocrity and distraction, while every breath inspires every step, and every step is forward even if preceded by a fall. Wait for tomorrow only if today is not possible, not because tomorrow is a tag on your calendar.

  • The Purge

    Today was one of those days when I needed to be purged of everything vile that I am compelled to deal with. It was a day in which I was reminded of the stench of betrayal, the slithery undertones of ingratitude, and the arrogance of authority. But in between all this I was faced with the feeble nature of those that are so meek in their convictions that they lose themselves in their need for inclusion amongst those they profess to despise.

    Nothing was purged. Instead, I found myself recollecting thoughts from an earlier time in my life when I realised that what doesn’t kill you only makes you more brittle. I grew a little more brittle today. The intolerance I have towards the unethical was tested again, but in the absence of being financially independent, I found myself restraining my responses rather than being true to my convictions.

    Perhaps a touch of hypocrisy is needed when dealing with hypocrites. Perhaps that notion of hypocrisy is needed to provide some solace from the reality that my faith faltered for long enough to make me a bitch of the system. The very same system that makes academics into sages, and sages into fools, or optional counsel at best. I have much venom in me right now and unless I purge myself of it, I know that it will take its toll. First in physical ailments, but more importantly, in unjustified rage at a system that enslaves while it pretends to be liberating.

    If ever there was a time when good appeared as evil and evil as good, this would be it. Living with conviction is truly like juggling hot coals in my hands. There is no one to step up to take the coals off my hands, but the intensity of the heat is all that I can relate to and so I hold on to it affectionately. It’s all that holds any meaning or value any longer. Insincerity and hypocrisy bear a coldness that threatens to deny me any sense of peace or composure. I find an odd sense of peace in knowing that I didn’t back down in the face of a bully.

    But bullies are so discreet these days. They pretend to be protecting the weak, while they shy away from challenging the strong. Their delegated authority is all that commands any respect or acknowledgement, but until that is removed from the equation, they will hold an air of superiority that only the foolhardy will question. The system has more bitches than it has purpose or beneficiaries. Each rung of the ladder is acquired only through the surrender of a due proportion of your soul.

    Contentment eludes me. Sanity does too. So does the needed purge. I remain unfulfilled and abandoned by so much of this world’s attractions. I’m fortunate. Anything more and I would probably be as complacent and distracted by the trinkets as the masses of hypocrites that pretend to be victims to the system that they sustain. I’m flirting with arrogance, but again I’m reminded of an earlier realisation. If an arrogant one is not treated with arrogance, how will they ever taste the sweetness of humility?

    Of course the mere suggestion of humility implies arrogance, so perhaps humility eludes me too. Perhaps I am as culpable for the system of whores that I so despise, but I pretend to be an unwilling participant that is a victim of circumstance. We’re all better than the ones we despise, aren’t we?

     

  • Don’t Judge Me

    I’ve re-typed this first sentence more times than I care to count, and each time, like this time, I felt the inclination to delete it because it seemed to talk to an audience, rather than a simple expression of what is on my mind. But I can’t keep deleting because it only increases the anxious clutter in my head relative to what needs to be expressed. The fact that I have forgotten how to express my thoughts without considering how I want my words to be received is beyond debate. I’ve got to embrace the whore in me that seeks such attention or engagement, despite my good intentions.

    At some point I convinced myself that sharing my thoughts with a receptive audience would be the only circumstances under which I would find it easy to pour forth my ramblings. I guess that’s what happens when you repeat a lie to yourself for long enough. Eventually, you believe it. I’ve never needed an audience before. The outpouring of thoughts and emotions were entirely for selfish relief and not to garner attention or affirmation of any sort. Somehow, it was more therapeutic that way as well. Again, the feeling of wanting to delete these thoughts is threatening to guide my hand to dump this post in the trash.

    I am on the outside as I am on the inside, albeit slightly more composed. But my apparent composition is not an untrue reflection of my true state because despite being conflicted, it is a perpetual confliction rather than a fluctuating one. Therefore, considering the constant, composed is a disposition that easily disguises perpetual perturbation. Perhaps there is no difference.

    My apparent annoyance with my surrounding circumstances is often assumed to be a lack of appreciation for what has been achieved due to my focus on what remains to be achieved instead. I guess that is the judgement that is most often passed by those that celebrate mediocrity. They are the ones that easily judge my restlessness to be inflexible expectations that are supposedly unrealistic, while failing to see how my anxiety escalates at the realisation of how much more I could have achieved instead. It’s the curse of the realisation of death, although many times that realisation escapes me as well. However the more my capability grows, the more I find myself identifying ways in which I should be benefiting others instead of laying lethargically on the couch feeding my brain with interestingly useless information.

    Don’t judge me for my incoherency in this post, or in my life. There are simple things that are daunting for me. My point of reference is very different to most. I walk into a room of unfamiliar faces and my senses are overloaded with the new, and often disruptive energies of people I have never met before. It numbs my conscious mind for the time I am in their presence, until I eventually get a moment to myself when I am able to wade through the muck of their pretences that they maintain simply to avoid being seen.

    People do that as a matter of course. We defend ourselves in front of others but feel no regret or guilt for the unwarranted defence because it is the norm. Society is composed of a necessary insincerity in light of the dishonesty that we’re faced with. But it seems the dishonesty is what warrants the insincerity as a defence mechanism, although the defence is what feeds the dishonesty. I’m exhausted just contemplating this cycle of insanity. I wonder what came first, the need to defend from fear of being vulnerable, or the vulnerability that resulted from a broken promise? Regardless, it is the norm, and living idealistically like I tend to do so often, it is inevitable that I will be faced with recurring disappointments, and just as likely, I will disappoint those that live realistically instead.

    My perspective is no less sane than yours. While mine is fuelled with naivety, yours is fuelled with the distrust that wreaks through this world. I choose to be the stranger to that filth, at least consciously so. However, I’m quite certain that when I’m lacking in mindfulness, I am as much tainted by that wretched stench as much as those whose insecurities and mediocrity I despise.

    My head hurts. It’s a dull familiar ache. One that has no beginning, but promises to only end when the inevitability of death finally provides it with the assurance of reality that it seeks. Until then, it will hurt, I will be distracted, and the chasm between me and the world will only continue to widen, until eventually I step into the abyss created by my own gluttonous appetite for that which others do not see. That is, the truth of me.

  • The Purpose of Life

    When seeking purpose it is almost inevitable that the search will at some point prompt us to confront our most personally held beliefs about religion, spirituality, and faith. Strange though that many times this is equated with purpose despite most people not tying that self-proclaimed purpose to the manner in which they wade through life. Religion and spirituality is often practised and defined as a specific extension of who we are but rarely defines our complete being, which poses a challenge to the claim that religion gives us purpose especially when considered in light of the priorities we tend to focus on in an ordinary day. Those priorities are rarely aligned with that purpose that we convince ourselves is the beacon by which we steer our course through this world.

    It’s even more strange when I observe people turning to sages and scholars to seek guidance as to their (those people’s) purpose which in turn informs their sense of religiosity or spirituality, often without them even realising it. Most often it ends up confirming their subscription to someone else’s purpose rather than them realising their own purpose. I speak of this in the third person because it is something that I can’t ever recall relating to. There was a time in my youth when learning through academic processes about my choice of religion or cultural practices was an expected indulgence in order for me to be a successful part of the system that society constructed around me. However, applying those learnings without question should only last as long as it takes us to achieve a sense of self where deliberate and conscious effort defines our actions rather than habit or indoctrination.

    The problem is that most people rarely move beyond the indoctrinated mindset because of the fear of being excommunicated from the social circles of which they long to be a significant member. However, so deeply is that fear of exclusion ingrained that even suggesting that they follow blindly in order to appease yields the most aggressive responses, sometimes cloaked in excessive overt spirituality. Unless we break away from such conditioning and start reflecting on our individual accountability for the belief system that we subscribe to, we’ll risk living a life devoid of purpose but cleverly disguised by our subservience to someone else’s calling as being purposeful.

    Our choices or decisions must be based on truths or observations that we have realised in our own lives. It always amazes me to see how easily taken we are by the ramblings of scientists or scholars that define theories and dogma that relies on faith and cannot be proven in this lifetime, but again we fight jealously to defend the indoctrination that we subscribe to while believing that its propagation is our higher calling in life. This applies to both theists and atheists alike. We push ideas and philosophies down each other’s throats insisting that the opposing party is misguided or lacking in intelligence while forgetting that our assumption of intelligence is in fact arrogance, which if considered within the grand scheme of just the observable reality confirms our stupidity instead. I mean, how can we possibly assume a level of arrogance about these belief systems when we’re mere subjects of it rather than designers?

    The problem I have with theists and atheists alike (for the most part) is that they do nothing more than deconstruct each others arguments without providing anything of substance in return. Theories are not substance, they’re only assumptions based on other assumptions that have been accepted to be reasonable assumptions, but nonetheless remain as nothing more than assumptions. So if we are to assume that atheists are correct, then there’s no point in the circular debates or discussions because our lives will only amount to that which our imagination allows it to as long as we’re breathing, since nothing comes after this life. And if that is indeed true, isn’t it a waste of an atheist’s life for them to try to convince others of this ‘truth’ that they believe they have uncovered if it all amounts to nothing once we’re dead? The average theists’ view is just as problematic because they try to convince the atheist that their belief based entirely on faith is a concrete belief because the scriptures say it is so, but often fail dismally when being asked to practically demonstrate the reality of what they profess to be the truth.

    Our legacies serve only to feed our egos. Nothing we leave behind is of any worth to us once we die if the atheist’s view of the world is anything to go by. So again, I ask, if there is no purpose to life except what we construct for ourselves, and then surround ourselves with like-minded individuals that serve only to prop up our egos because of the inherent effect of affirmation, why then should atheists be bothered with whether or not theists believe them, or for that matter, believe in an unseen god? Similarly, why should a theist become obsessed with the belief system of an atheist if they have no physical proof to offer? So where does the truth lie regarding whose definition of the purpose of life is in fact true?

    For the atheists, by their very own philosophy regarding the nothingness that comes after death, any attempt to convince anyone else of why atheists are correct would be a waste of life given how finite life is. However, for the theist, their belief in the after life defines their purpose and conviction in wanting to improve the lots of others and to see others subscribe to a set of values and principles that they believe will hold them in good stead when they believe it will matter most. i.e. on the Day of Judgement. So strictly speaking, if we compare the indoctrination of the one against the other, atheists generally tend to be living the agenda of the theists by insisting on propagating a belief system that holds no value for the disbeliever (so to speak) since by atheistic standards, the theist will amount to nought once they’re dead.

    So perhaps it is time for both sides to realise this and instead of trying to convince each other of the merits of their belief systems, their focus should be on realising the value of their belief systems in a practical manner in their lives so that the demonstration of such benefits may serve as a consolation for the lack of hard evidence regarding who is right. Perhaps through our internalised focus of who we are and what we subscribe to, and the resultant dictate that we should be true to that conviction in everything we say and do, we will convince others of the veracity of our claims to be on the path of truth or intelligence.

    The purpose of life therefore lies not in what is professed, nor in what is dictated or indoctrinated, nor in rituals or in irreverence but rather in what is realised to be of meaning beyond the selfish accomplishments of our own existence. In fact, I would hazard to go as far as saying that even if the theist strives to selfishly achieve the goals of their afterlife independent of their contribution to society, such a goal will remain elusive after death because of the neglect of their duties and the rights of those around them.

    So in choosing my purpose in life, I have found myself inclined to reflect and observe rather than to dictate or indoctrinate, and in so doing, I’ve chosen those ways and philosophies that align with what I believe to be a logical outcome to this life. Even the casual observer can see that true justice does not exist in this lifetime. Even an eye for an eye does not yield true justice because the loss of an eye for a singer does not bear as much consequences as the loss of an eye for a scientist. It is exactly such relativity that dictates that the human need for justice cannot ever be fulfilled in this world. Considering this reality, for me, it therefore stands to reason that justice is only possible under the informed judgement of the One that created this system of cause and effect. If no true justice is possible in this world, and there was no consequence to this life except for those rewards or difficulties we earned in this lifetime, then what could possibly keep us obliged to respect the rights of another? In fact, on what authority would we then define those rights, or respect it? If such authority is established in society as a whole, who then establishes the authority for the imposition of those rights and responsibilities on the one that refuses to subscribe to society’s ideals?

    It therefore stands to reason that in the absence of such a higher authority my right to murder or plunder must be respected just as much as another’s right to protect and maintain. This creates an impossible situation and fails to answer the most basic need of being human and that is to be treated fairly and to be maintained in a dignified manner. If we were to assume that that were just an evolution of societal standards, it would result in each of us being aggressors on anyone that disagrees because the imposition of our will through self-proclaimed authority will be the only means through which such a ‘natural’ order could be maintained. This seems illogical on all levels, and it is through such and similar reflections that I have arrived at my choice of purpose in life, as well as my subscription to a belief system that aligns with such observations and aspirations. But that is my purpose that I have chosen for myself. The moment I choose to impose that on someone else under the guise of wanting them to be guided correctly, I merely feed my ego and betray any higher purpose that I may profess to be serving.

    For this reason, if nothing else, there can be no compulsion in religion. By extension, there can be no dictate of purpose either. We must seek to consciously choose our values in life, and if the belief systems that claim to be divinely inspired are indeed so, then it stands to reason that such introspection and observation will lead one to be aligned with such a belief system and compulsion for compliance will never be needed, nor justified.

     

  • From Virtual to Reality

    I launched a new forum at the office this week. It’s called the Thought Leadership Forum. I know, it sounds clichéd, and it probably is. But that is the extent of the cliché. I’ve often felt frustrated at the lack of real life engagement about the many ideas and philosophies that I debate at length with myself on my blog wondering if any of it has any real  life value. How much of it is simply idealism that entertains or encourages from time to time, versus how much of it holds practical value in helping others to rise above the lethargy that has become the hallmark of many lives these days?

    So I decided to be bold (perhaps recklessly stupid instead) and opened up the debate to more than 60 of my colleagues at the office. It was daunting to even consider this but over the last year and a bit I’ve been experimenting with sharing my blog with various people around me. People that often seem to want advice or even just to engage about topics that I am obviously passionate about. At first I felt a sense of trepidation which didn’t last any longer than it took for me to realise that their validation was of no consequence to me. There was always the risk that they would ridicule my ramblings, but strangely enough most have lost interest in a very short space of time. Some have commented vaguely on the content and the topics but none have engaged meaningfully about anything that they read.

    That in itself provided an insight into my fears and assumptions, as well as their sincerity about wanting to truly challenge the stereotypes that they’re often prone to whining about. I focused on the former since I’ve realised that trying to convince people to take themselves seriously is a futile effort. People only ever take themselves seriously after they’re faced with a grave challenge in their life that forces them to question their significance to those around them, and more importantly, when they’re forced to face the truth of what they claim to stand for. It takes a defining moment of sublime struggle to cause us to question our purpose or our understanding of ourselves. At moments like that we realise what dreams we were holding on to but rarely, if ever, nurtured.

    And so I set out to start the debate in the first session of the Thought Leadership Forum that I launched and was pleasantly surprised at both the turnout and the level of engagement. It’s early days, and there is nothing to suggest that this initiative might even survive beyond its second session, but the fact that I was able to force people to stop and reconsider their long held perspectives about common issues that we often take for granted on a daily basis is a really good thing. It was encouraging to see how many were confident enough to make statements about what they believed were universal truths, only to stop and give a nervous giggle when it was challenged because they realised that they didn’t necessarily consider it from that perspective before.

    Perhaps, selfishly, I needed to take this blog from virtual reality to reality in order to test the water about my personal beliefs and its relevance to the average human being. Perhaps this is my way of determining whether or not there is merit in writing that book after all, or if my thoughts and ideas are simply pedestrian by nature and instead of causing people to sit up and listen, it may instead cure their insomnia. Perhaps this is the beginning of a new chapter in my life where I aspire to influence people in reality rather than to continue to hide behind the comfort offered by the nuances of virtuality.

    People are strange. Sometimes, almost as strange as I know them to be.

  • Manufactured Threat

    I often stare in awe at people that have the energy to maintain their guard for an extended period of time, often their entire adult life, without appearing drained. They are often unassuming and enthusiastic about life, rarely missing an opportunity to make mention of the many wonderful experiences they’re having every other day. But if you look really closely, there is a quiet lie that accents every word and every gesture. A quiet lie that reveals the pain and the incompleteness of the existence that they pretend is so idyllic. It doesn’t require a trained eye or a special skill to see it. It just requires that you pay attention.

    I look at the smile on people’s faces and most are incomplete. They laugh a lot, and smile even more, but their smile rarely reaches their eyes. Their eyes assume the position needed to complete the gesture, but it lacks the sparkle and the enchanting energy that is exuded when it truly reflects a pleased heart, or a content soul. The mystery of what creates the silent lie often escapes even them because its source is so well hidden that it’s like that trinket that is put away safely because it’s too fragile to handle only to never be found again until some upheaval or significant event causes us to dig into a part of our closet that was always left untouched while waiting for the right moment to arrive. That’s when we’re reminded of the darkness that descended for a while, but was hastily ushered away to prevent prying eyes from noticing the vulnerability that it revealed. But somehow, when that trinket is finally rediscovered, the scars that were too raw to touch or caress may have assumed a charm of their own over the years which finally made it bearable to observe them in a new light while even appreciating them for the characteristic quirks that gave us that endearing trait that we previously would have despised.

    Scars of the soul are as visible as scars of the skin, if not more so but only if you’re paying attention. When we truly seek to engage with another, we’ll see in their eyes what their mouths and bodies refuse to reveal. Their eyes are incapable of lying. Conviction can only be faked if the pretender has convinced themselves of the lie that is being presented. Only then might the eyes conceal it even if only momentarily. And so we go through life protecting ourselves from events that should only have defined a moment in our life, but we nurtured it to define our world instead. In the process of this self-deceit we commit the next greatest harm against ourselves. We create a manufactured threat that convinces us that the defences that belonged to a single moment are necessary for our preservation. But the hurt of the moment was cherished more than the strength we had to survive it, which caused it to grow and fester in our being, while our strength lost its true purpose and instead became a means to maintain a façade that protected us from ourselves while believing that we needed to protect ourselves from the world.

    There is a time in our life when even after all this deception has ravaged us that we will establish a trusted handhold that threatens to draw us out of our fortress. It is at that time that we face the daunting decision to give trust a chance, or to continue with the deception. Most choose the deception and achieve mediocre goals in life that may even seem significant relative to others. Mediocrity is easily seen as greatness if the benchmark is a soul that is damaged more than your own. So we choose our points of reference carefully in order to maintain the deception, all the while convincing ourselves that there is a real threat that we face. A threat that we never expect others to understand because we fail to see the manufactured threats of others while we’re distracted by our own, instead of paying attention.

    Occasionally someone will come along to nudge you out of the stupor. Alas, we’ll likely not notice because attention to the present moment will be dwarfed by our need to protect ourselves.

  • Filled to the Brim

    Given my recent overload of pressure and work at the office, I found myself facing the realisation of what determines my capacity to deal with what is thrown at me each day. I found myself having conversations in my head about how I’ve had enough, how I’m not willing to put up with the crap any longer, and how this is all pointless. However, I couldn’t fend off this nagging feeling that that was just me setting limitations for myself. I was determining when it was enough, often long before it really was.

    There is a physical limitation that is also breached at some point which results in physical fatigue or exhaustion that simply makes it near impossible to function effectively. But the more I considered all this, the more I realised that I was setting a limitation for myself long before I arrived at that point of true physical exhaustion. It reminded me of a study by Dr Tim Noakes that confirms that our brain tells us that we’re tired long before we reach a state of being physically fatigued even though we are capable of much more. That poses a significant challenge to the perspectives that I’ve held on to for so long. I always assumed that being able to read my physical symptoms would be the surest way to make informed decisions about my emotional well being, but it turns out that it’s not as straight forward as that.

    And so I contemplated my current frustration with the on-going seemingly endless cycle of pressure that we’ve been under for more than a month now, and each time I felt like indulging myself with the defeatist proclamation of ‘I’ve had enough’, I knew that I was still capable of dealing with more. Funny how my attitude determined when enough was enough rather than any real physical or emotional constraints I was faced with. Through this painful exercise of working with some of the most amazingly inept resources I’ve ever had to contend with in my career, it has become obvious that what I am capable of is far from what I am tolerant of.

    I guess the focus needs to shift towards improving my tolerance and therefore my abilities to navigate around issues that challenge my tolerance levels, rather than to constantly focus on subject matter competence and relationship building. However, I suspect that this is really just scratching the surface of a bigger issue that lies beneath, that being the issue of self-worth, confidence, and emotional intelligence, each of which have a myriad of supporting issues as well. Yet again, a vicious cycle emerges. What remains clear though is the fact that I determine my capacity long before anyone else is able to push me beyond my own limits. This cup is far from full, although at times it serves my purposes to present myself as having reached a threshold that is reasonable to be considered a limitation of wits and patience for any reasonable person.

    Even in that there is little comfort, because in so doing, I am reminded that I am merely comparing myself to the mediocre, rather than striving to exceed such levels of complacency.