Tag: sincerity

  • The one who loves less…

    I once heard that the one who loves less is the one that controls the relationship. It sounds pretty obvious at face value, but it assumes that the expression of love is as obvious as well. It also assumes that the interpretation of control is in fact control and not influence. It assumes a lot. But with most satisfied to think in the shallow end of the emotional pool only, it’s no wonder that such proclamations gain unchallenged veracity.

    Love is never monolithic in its expression. A bunch of flowers for one may be an endearing gesture, while for another it could be superficial or fake. Some prefer to see conviction in a personal gesture or investment of time and effort, while others need the flowers to believe that they were remembered at a time when they weren’t present. Whether one form of expression is better than the other is not the point. The fact that it translates into a gesture that reflects intent, and in turn, is appreciated for what it was intended to convey is significantly more important.

    Intent, therefore, is what counts. Intent, therefore, also demands sincerity. A gesture is only a gesture towards acquiring a specific desired outcome if that gesture proves to be an embrace of another, rather than the acquisition of benefits for personal gain. That seems a bit wordy, so here’s a slightly lighter take on this. If you give with the intention of receiving, you’re giving for your own benefit and not to sincerely express appreciation or endearment of another.

    We all seek to control and/or influence. That is what determines our level of significance with our significant others. Whether such control or influence is driven maliciously or not remains a question of intent, and given the above, it’s near impossible to be absolutely certain about the intent of another. At best, we are able to measure the reciprocation with which our efforts are met. The greater the reciprocation, the more likely we are to believe that there is an equal conviction on their part in responding to our efforts. The less the reciprocation, the more likely we’ll recede from the belief that we’re being taken for granted, or are simply not being appreciated at all.

    The one that controls the relationship is not always the one that loves less. Quite often, conviction in the potential outcome drives some to be controlling when they find that they are unable to subtly influence the behaviour of those they love in the direction that they truly believe will benefit them. Benefit to both the one influencing, and personal benefit to the one being influenced. Perhaps, by the same logic, I could argue that the one who controls less may love less, because in doing so, it could easily reflect a lack of conviction on their part. It could suggest a lack of belief in the innate goodness or the beautiful potential that has yet to be realised from the relationship.

    It’s all about what’s in it for us. If I aim to extract more benefit for myself than I hope to contribute for others, then definitely my efforts at controlling or influencing the outcome will be self-serving. In that case, my love for myself will be greater than my love for any wholesomeness to be achieved with another. However, if my aim is to extract a benefit for the other, without sacrificing myself in the process, then perhaps it could be argued that I am the one that loves more. If I sacrifice myself in the process, it simply means that I see myself as lacking in value to those around me, and therefore need to expend myself in their service if I ever hope to achieve any level of significance in their lives. A truly unhealthy state to be.

  • Friends for Enemies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Finding Balance (Part 2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • A Brain Dump

    Brain dumps are therapeutic, if you do it right. It allows a release, an unstructured release of the clouds that trail you through the day. Life demands structure, and structure demands discipline. Both have their place, but did you notice how beautifully random the structure of nature appears? It has probably the most complex system of checks and balances we’ll ever encounter, yet it thrives if appreciated, especially where such appreciation simply demands that it be left to find its own way.

    People can’t function like that. If left to find our own way, most are inclined to believe that no one cares. Hardly anyone recognises the freedom in that. I find myself caught in a health cycle that is unfamiliar to me. Having had an acute focus for many years now on the physiological impact that our emotions and thought patterns have on us, I lost sight of what keeps us above ground when it comes to navigating through that space. It’s so easy to get pulled into the quicksand that we’re always warning others about.

    Recurrent failures at building relationships that are not optional can create gaps in your soul that you don’t notice until the possibility of filling those gaps erodes almost completely. The decision on which relationships are optional and which are not is a simple one that is tied to our value systems. My need for authenticity will not allow me to be selective as to when I accept and embrace my responsibilities towards others, or when I set it aside for convenience’s sake. I am perfectly capable of abandoning or morphing my value system into one that is more convenient, but I know that the moment I do that, I will lose any legitimate claim to cry foul when others do the same.

    Optional relationships are the ones that hold no yoke over us if we neglect it. If there is no tie of kinship or contract, we are not under any obligation to care for or contribute to such relationships. Communal obligation, that is. Strange though that it seems like optional relationships tend to get the most investment these days. It seems as if these they provide us with needed distractions from the relationships grounded in responsibility and compulsion. There seems to be a demand for attention or reciprocation at every turn, mostly out of obligation rather than passion or purpose.

    It seems I’ve even forgotten how to do a brain dump. My health has been less than satisfactory recently, and almost all of it has been associated with a collage of duress that has coloured my life for a long time now. Each tile in the collage stems from an investment I made in others, some in a personal setting while others in a professional setting. Watching trust replaced by loyalty to the prevailing authority is commonplace these days. I’ve had to remind myself often in recent months that more should not be expected from the ones that worship titles and pursue labels and acronyms. But it’s the contagion of human nature. The moment we see beyond the superficial gusto that people present as their armour of confidence, it’s difficult not to sympathise with the child within.

    Too many times have I witnessed people reaching an old age while still not yet having achieved the state of being a fully formed adult. The difficulty lies in the rarity of adults. Most are overgrown children waiting for some childhood need to come to pass, while grudgingly accepting the responsibility that accumulates with the years. All the while, the essence of our lives are spent in waiting for others to do right by us. It rarely happens.

    Those that have crumbling spines suffer from a deficiency of bone density because they lack the courage to build what only they can build. The more we tell our bodies that we’re not good enough, the less our bodies will respond favourably when we need it to. If it is true that the soul is the seat of intelligence and the body merely a vessel for expression, then it stands to reason that we have the power to enable our bodies for good, or to turn it on itself in order to express the weakness we harbour within.

    I’ve been waiting with warranted hope that some relationships would have finally blossomed into the beauty that it once promised, but I forgot along the way that I was not the defining influence in those relationships. What contaminated it from without, I assumed to be a deficiency within the relationship, when in fact the only deficiency was that I held others to a standard that they did not subscribe to for themselves.

    The contention built up within me, slowly sapping my clarity of thought, then my energy, then my creative expression, gnawing away at my memory, and finally imposing the weight of its imbalance on my body which eventually caved in under all the pressure. It sounds like a dramatic description of the flu, but the reality is that it takes a chorus of failed expectations to wear me down, never just a single one.

    Those that succumb to a single betrayal have invested too much in a single part of their life. Worse than just the investment, they divested from their own lives. They assumed that entrusting another with more than their affection, in fact with everything they needed to breathe seemed like the ultimate expression of commitment to an outcome desired by both, but invested in by only one.

    Ill health is a sign of imbalance in the way we live our lives. Disease stands a greater chance of invading our bodies when our immune systems are focused on fighting the disruption we’ve created within. When we live under duress, we become easy pickings for our enemies. Be they disease or spineless creatures, the net effect is the same. We succumb to circumstances that would otherwise be opportunities for growth. The answer is so simple, yet so elusive.

  • The Desire For Excellence

    Achieving a state of excellence in at least one sphere of our lives, I believe, is a universal yearning. It allows us to leave our mark or establish a legacy so that we may believe that we won’t be easily forgotten when we’re gone. It also feeds a need to constantly improve where we’re at in life. Aspiring to a new level of achievement in at least one sphere in which we believe we have a unique talent often gives us reason to face a new day.

    Some start out in search of fame and focus their efforts on doing what they believe will be admired by others. So focused are they on what their intended audience wants, that they easily forget where their passion lies. The old adage of not going out in search of your love, but instead doing what you love and letting your love find you echoes through the air. But again, we’re so lacking in self-worth that unless there is visible acknowledgement and appreciation for what we do, we often abandon important pursuits because we thought no one cared.

    The pursuit of excellence cannot be relative to the whims or dictates of others. It has to be more sincere than that. The conviction to achieve that excellence must be grounded in a heartfelt passion to improve the state of something that you personally experienced and wish to improve for others. If such a pursuit is directed at an outcome that benefits only you, you will be left wanting when you’ve achieved it, only to lament the time wasted in getting to a point that promised fulfilment but instead only fed your ego.

    The ego. We keep getting back to that thing that robs us of so much. What could be wholesome is often discarded if we don’t see a benefit in it for us. Worse than this, we sometimes discard efforts simply because it may benefit someone that we believe is undeserving of such benefit. When we do this, we need to realise that it’s not excellence that we pursuit, but gratification.

    Gratification is the outcome of a pursuit, not the purpose. Like I mentioned before about humility and happiness being an outcome of something else, so is gratification. The moment we enter a cycle looking to get something out, we lose sight of our true potential to contribute towards something that is larger than ourselves. Live with conviction, and ensure that your conviction is well-informed, and you’ll find that every outcome, no matter how insignificant it may seem, will leave a legacy of benefit for everyone that came into contact with you during your lifetime.

    We all desire excellence, and to be associated with excellence, but we’re often too distracted to notice how our chosen path detracts from that excellence that we desire. We must be willing to contribute selflessly towards the outcome of something that won’t benefit us directly before we can hope to benefit indirectly from the fruits of such an effort. The irony is that we lose both when we start out with a selfish end in mind.

    The moment we demand to be served with excellence, a moment’s reflection on the motivation of the one that serves us will reveal that they do so out of obligation or perhaps even fear. That leaves empty the need for significance as a human being. It only fulfils the desire for authority or the imposition of our will. But imposing our will on others is never fulfilling because we know that without such authority or power, we will be neglected or discarded because the value of our contribution will be insignificant. For this reason, among many others, the need for acceptance and appreciation as a human being, independent of any authority or political influence that we may yield, has driven many to do dastardly deeds in moments when they gave up hope of being appreciated simply for who they are.

    The desire for excellence has to begin with the desire to perfect our contribution to this world. If it is tied to a clearly envisioned higher purpose, it makes it that much more powerful. However, many struggle to see their contribution as relevant within a context beyond their immediate lives. If this is true for you, then start by ensuring that you do not leave anyone or anything in a state worse than what it or they were before you touched them. Excellence is the habit that prompts us towards the elusive goal of perfection. It’s the pursuit of it that inspires us to be more, while its attainment (if indeed it can be attained) makes us complacent.

    Seek to ensure that whatever you touch, or whoever’s lives you impact, you leave it in a better state than it was before you got there. And if you are unable to do so, then at least do not incur harm instead.

  • Unconditional Love

    To live life romantically is such a beautiful notion. You see the world for all that it offers and politely ignore all that it is. The lover professes unconditional love for their beloved, yet so often such undying love ends in heartache. Was it unconditional, or was it one-sided? I once heard that the one who loves less controls the relationship. I think that is mostly true.

    Unconditional. That’s a huge claim to make. Unsurprisingly I decided to test its veracity by observing those around me who often profess to uphold this claim of unconditional this and that. Love, for starters, is grossly misunderstood and overrated by most people. Obsession, infatuation, or lust (or all three) are usually at play long before love even enters the picture. Having said that, I believe that unconditional love is real. However, it probably doesn’t take the form that most assume it to be and probably shouldn’t be called love to begin with. I think commitment and sincerity are more attuned to reality than the vagueness of love.

    Too many confuse love with acceptance, and far too often that acceptance is based on the fear of rejection. We accept untoward behaviour or allow people to take us for granted under the guise of loving them unconditionally, while the truth is closer to the fact that we are usually fearful of not finding something better if we reject such treatment. Being alone is infinitely more scary to most people, more scary than dealing with an abusive or unfulfilling relationship. Having someone, to many, is better than having no one, even if that someone holds them back from being who they are capable of being. Yet they stay in such relationships believing that it’s unconditional love, more because they’re hoping to receive unconditional love in return.

    But here’s the rub. When we hope to receive unconditional love by making such sacrifices of our own peace and sanity, it implies that we have yet to unconditionally love ourselves. In the absence of that self-acceptance, we look for others to accept us first so that we can convince ourselves that we are worth the investment of love and life. We therefore fool ourselves into believing that unhealthy relationships must be endured simply because we would expect others to do the same for us if we were the unhealthy contributors to a relationship. The irony is that we are such contributors when we settle for less.

    That’s all fairly obvious for those not in denial, but it still doesn’t quite define what unconditional love really is. For me, unconditional love is not being infinitely tolerant, but instead, it is about being intolerant of anything less than what you know the person you love is capable of achieving. Apply this in a parenting scenario, or a marriage, or a romantic liaison, and you’ll see how it holds true. If you love someone, you won’t allow them to do something that you know is going to harm them, or cause an oppression against others. The moment you tolerate such behaviour from them, you prove that your love for yourself is greater than your love for them because being unpopular erodes the self-worth of the fickle.

    Stated differently, what is usually considered to be tough love is only possible from those that are confident that the acceptance or rejection of others does not define who they are, or how they see themselves. You have to be accepting of yourself as a whole person within the context of a relationship before you will be willing to push for a correction or adjustment in behaviour from the person you’re with. However, it also means that in accepting ourselves, or others, we need to recognise the weaknesses or bad habits that detract from our wholesomeness as a human being, coupled with the resolve to work at improving it. The same must be true for how we view others if we are to profess that we love them.

    It cannot be love if we enable destructive behaviour. Perhaps that needs to be rephrased. It is not love for the other that enables destructive behaviour, but a lack of love for the self that allows it to continue unchallenged. When we subject ourselves to abusive relationships, we fool ourselves into believing that if we wish to be accepted, then we need to be more accepting of others. That’s far too idealistic to be healthy. The reality is closer to having a clear conviction about what we stand for before we agree to stand for everything.

    More importantly, if our greatest fear is how we will be perceived if or when we object to something, then again, we are more concerned about ourselves than we are about making others feel judged. It feels like I’m over complicating a really simple issue. so here’s a final take on this.

    You need to know what you stand for before you can be accepting of others. If you don’t, you are not accepting, you are assimilating because of a need for inclusion. That fear of rejection or isolation is grounded in the fact that you judge yourself harshly, and have a lack of conviction in improving those traits of yours that you would rather others don’t see. To deflect attention away from such weaknesses, you embrace others without question so that you don’t give others reason to question what you’re about.

    We see this playing out in parenting all the time. Parents that won’t accept that their children are wrong or downright abusive because such acceptance confirms that they may have failed as parents. Women and even men remain in emotionally and physically abusive relationships because they’re afraid that no one else will accept the distasteful view they have of themselves, while trying to convince the world that they are only holding on because they truly believe that their partner is a good person behind all that anger, or insecurity. Or worse, they remain in the relationship because of the children that they don’t want must be raised in a broken home, not realising that they’re effectively teaching their children that it’s more important to grin and bear it than it is to stand up and do the right thing.

    We project our insecurities on those around us, and then over compensate for theirs in order to ensure that ours are not discovered. Then we wrap it up as unconditional love because that is more palatable as a concept for us, and is found to be more endearing for those from whom we seek acceptance. We do this while forgetting that unconditional love is being willing to point out what’s wrong so that we can work on making things right, rather than suffering the wrong because we don’t want to offend or be seen as unpopular. Unconditional love is what drives us to demand nothing less than what we believe is possible from those we care about, because the only time we can claim to truly love them is when we want for them what we want for ourselves. If we desire less for ourselves, then we seek to live vicariously through them instead, which once again confirms that our love, as unhealthy as it may be, is in fact for ourselves more than it is for others.

     

  • In Gratitude

    Apparently one of the most profound and base needs of a human being is to be appreciated. Express appreciation, meaningful appreciation for what someone does, and there’s almost no limit to what they’ll be willing to do for you. Take people for granted, and you end up with the world we live in.

    It seems we continue to incline towards the fulfilment of our rights before we consider what we need to contribute instead. It’s a contaminated space that is hard to escape. At some point someone started a trend that suggested that if we don’t take care of ourselves, then no one will take care of us. We have a beautiful tradition that says, “If we don’t take care of our neighbours, then who will take care of us?” I’m not sure of the source, but the wisdom it holds is far reaching.

    It’s a particularly vicious cycle because when we wait to be taken care of before we are willing to contribute, we assume that those who deserve to be taken care of by us do not have a similar yearning. That is, to be taken care of first before they feel inclined to take care of others. So we inadvertently become a key part of the very same cycle that distresses us.

    This begs the question about what gratitude really means. Is gratitude our expression of appreciation to others for what we received from them, or is true gratitude our exercise of the capabilities we have at our disposal for the benefit of others, regardless of their appreciation for what we do? Maybe it’s not a choice between either, but rather a combination of the two. Given the binary world we live in these days with everything either broken or fixed, and nothing is repairable because everything is replaceable, it’s easy to see why most behave as if it can only be one or the other.

    I think it starts with how we appreciate what we have. No. It can’t be that simple because that implies that we view what we have through our own eyes and not through the actions of others. We don’t. We look at what we have, then look at who admires what we have, and if that admiration comes from a source that we admire, then we appreciate what we have. If it doesn’t, we consider ourselves to be pathetic or despicable or unworthy because what we have is so lacking compared to what everyone else has. That seems about right, doesn’t it?

    We all want to be unique, just like everyone else. I think the world is lacking in conviction. Everyone knows what everyone else likes, what’s trending, and how to get on the trend-wagon, but only a handful knows why. It’s gotten so bad that even those setting the trends do so because of the attention it will receive and not because they have a conviction in the value that the trend may offer. Acceptance has been confused with appreciation, and so the moment we’re part of the trending crowd, we assume that what we have or what we offer to that crowd is appreciated by that crowd. It’s not. It’s a convenient collection of empty souls that look for meaning in others because they’re too afraid to find meaning within themselves.

    Yes, that’s a horrible generalisation, but generalisations seem to be in vogue. We taint an entire group for the actions of a few outliers, and then insist that it’s the group’s responsibility to deal with them before we absolve the group of culpability. Let’s think about that for a second. We accuse others of guilt because of their association with a rogue entity, and instead of recognising the rogue-ness of that entity and restraining ourselves from judging unfairly, we abdicate responsibility of such bigoted views and then blame our victims for not doing enough to avoid being judged by us. Did I get that right?

    So back to gratitude. If we don’t take accountability for how we see the world, we won’t feel accountable for how we treat others, and in turn, will not see any reason to treat anyone else better until they do right by us first. That means that everything that we’ve been blessed with, be it our health, wealth, resources, opportunities and more, is irrelevant the moment we feel unappreciated. And if anyone wants to judge us for it, they must first appreciate us or else their judgement will amount to naught. Sounds like quite a mess.

    Gratitude for me has always been my ability to improve the state or condition of anyone or anything that I come into contact with. If it is not in a better condition than it was before I touched it, then at the least, it must not be in a worse state either. Anything less would mean that I take for granted what I have. While too many focus on the religious ramifications of such an attitude, I think there is a greater practical impact that we need to consider first.

    When I take something for granted, like my car perhaps, I don’t give it due attention, maintenance, or proper handling. This results in it degrading at a rate faster than it needs to, which in turn means I would have to repair (oh, wait, we don’t do that any more) or replace it sooner than anticipated, which means the strain on my resources is greater, resulting in other areas of my life being impacted, which in turn increases the burden of life that I experience, resulting in me feeling burdened because of external influences, when in fact my burden is entirely self-imposed.

    If we live with gratitude, we’ll appreciate every crumb left on our plate. We won’t horde things waiting for better days, but instead we’ll recognise that someone else has a dire need for what we think will look cool on us when the fashion trend returns, assuming we’ll still fit in it. Gratitude means that if I have the ability to contribute positively towards someone else’s challenge, I will. Not because I know them, or because they will pay me, but because I can. And because I can, I am morally obliged to bring that ability to bear on the betterment of the world I live in, because it is that same world that makes me feel blessed or cursed, depending on how I experience it, and through whom.

    To realise the value of what I have to offer, I must first stop seeing myself through the eyes of others. If I discount my blessings because of my fixation on the blessings of others, I lose the right to receive from others before I contribute towards them first. How empty an existence must that be?

  • The Best In Me

    I’ve found, and recent experiences have confirmed this to be true as well, that in order to see the true nature of someone, you should demand the best from them. Demand that they be all that you know they have the capacity to be, and you’ll see the conviction or betrayal rise to the surface, often viciously so.

    I’ve been quite distracted recently. That distraction has in many ways confirmed why I sway between wanting to share my thoughts, or write that book, and not wanting to have any part in interacting with people at all. I quietly observe the hypocrisy of so many that polarise towards those that pacify them about their shortcomings, their bad decisions, or their half-hearted efforts to live life while waiting for someone else to come along and contribute the other half. They do this under the guise of compassion and understanding. Both, the pacifier and the pacified. The dishonesty of it all leaves a distinctly bitter after-taste almost literally in my mouth.

    I’ve always found it to be insincere on my part if I agreed with someone that was looking for affirmation about doing something that was either denying them or someone else of a right or benefit that they were capable of providing. It’s as if we live life assuming everything to be optional first, and then only define what is compulsory or obligatory on our part relative to what we believe is a reasonable expectation that others are allowed to have of us. This also implies that we view ourselves through the same tainted lenses. In other words, rights are not rights until we agree that it is so, and then also, only if there is a reciprocal arrangement in place. What’s in it for me has become the mantra of the selfish and the weak.

    Yet the world apparently thrives on it. Far too often I listen to people repeating leadership advice that says that to be influential you must be sure to emphasise what is in it for your target audience otherwise your chances of soliciting their buy-in is significantly reduced. While that may be the reality of it, it also suggests that you become complicit in the cycle of selfishness. I’m obstinate enough to believe that shared convictions are more important than what’s in it for me as a collective perspective. I guess you could also argue that the fact that something is achieved implies that there was conviction behind it to begin with. While that may be true, it doesn’t necessarily imply that such conviction was well-placed.

    If my conviction is focused on self-preservation or self-promotion, then I would act with a conviction that inadvertently erodes the wholesomeness of the society that I belong to. When that selfishness comes full circle and I become a means to an end for someone else from that same societal structure, I complain bitterly about the decay of humanity, forgetting too easily how it is that the same impact I imposed on others left them feeling equally defeated. It seems that such bitter pills are what prompts many to consider the impact that they have on others, because it’s only in moments of defeat or humiliation that we are forced to recognise our weaknesses. Unless you’re so bitter about life that your fixation on the betrayals of others prevents you from seeing your contribution to your current state. Such bitterness always ends in a diseased body and mind, which leads to an untimely and often very unpleasant demise.

    Obstinacy with conviction is what is lacking in this world. I would much rather be surrounded by those that disagree with me because of a genuine sense of conviction in what they hold to be true, rather than to be surrounded by people that agree with me because their affiliation with me benefits their own selfish purposes. I can barely recall anyone demanding me to be more than I am because they saw potential or capability in me that I did not recognise in myself. Fortunately I’ve had little reason to wait for such encouragement although I did find myself wasting a lot of life waiting for others to  catch up. In a way, that has been the most wasteful approach of my life.

    Waiting for others to believe in you implies that you lack conviction in what you see in yourself. While there is merit in testing the veracity of your assumptions and perspectives by sounding it against others, if we’re not careful about what we’re testing for, there’s a good chance that we’ll abandon something valuable because we were looking for the wrong response. Too many test for acceptance rather than soundness of purpose or conviction. We present ideas that have merit to small minds and then abandon those ideas because the value of it was not grasped. We shouldn’t be testing for acceptance or popularity. That is exactly what got this world into the state it is in. As clichéd as it sounds, being part of the crowd only ever maintained the status quo. It’s the individual, the maverick, the relentless pain-in-the-butt that spurs growth, and by implication, growth implies discomfort.

    We need to learn to be comfortable in growth. The only hindrance I can think of that prevents such comfort is the fear of failure. The fear of appearing incompetent in a new setting. That fear is grounded in our belief that others are always competent in what they appear to be doing, but often discover that they were not as competent as we assumed when we engage and apply our minds to the new reality that we were avoiding. It also implies that we assume we’re incompetent by default and therefore incapable of learning, until we find reason to believe that we have sufficient skill or knowledge to start exploring with a fair amount of confidence. Unfortunately we rarely start exploring because we’re waiting for that minimum amount of skill or knowledge to magically appear first, or for someone to believe in us before we try.

    The best of me always manifested in times of trial and intense betrayal when my crutches were snapped away, or my comforts were destroyed. Familiarity often appeared as healthy surrounds, but I only realized how unhealthy it was when I was forced to step outside of those familiar boundaries and became a spectator of my own life. It’s only when we achieve such perspective that we are faced with the daunting choice of whether to prevail, or to succumb. Beyond all this the greatest challenge I continue to face in my life is finding the balance between forging ahead in spite of the lack of conviction from others in what I am passionate about, while simultaneously avoiding the severing of ties. Forging ahead demands conviction and purposeful introspection to guide me, while maintaining ties prevents me from being reckless or ungrateful about the benefit and rights I share with those around me.

    Life is easier if lived in isolation, but it’s less fulfilling. It becomes an incomplete cycle because I believe that our innate nature drives us towards improving the lot of others. The more inclined we are to believe that we are capable of achieving that innate need, the healthier our self-worth, while the opposing belief drives us towards complacency, and self-defeat. The awkward truth is that more often than not people don’t know what they need to improve their current state, but they usually have a very good idea as to what someone else may need. Hence the benefit of perspective when our familiar surrounds are taken away. The point is, if we’re going to wait for others to agree to the change that is needed before we provoke it, we’ll spend a lot of time waiting, and very little time living.

    [My distracted state is evident in the randomness of this train of thought, if it can even qualify as a train!]