Tag: sincerity

  • 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.

  • Tainted Perspectives

    Too often I witness people that are weighed down by life not because of the gravity of the situation they face, but because of the perspective that they stubbornly hold on to. That perspective most often feeds an underlying need that they maintain which is often based on expectations that they have from people around them. As I’ve experienced many times before, expectation is the source of much bitterness.

    Life, by design, is a vicious cycle. The only exit is death, but despite this reality being known to any reasonable being, it is the one destination that is most feared and often neglected. We’ve attached a stigma of morbidity to the reality of death even though it is life that deserves it instead. Life is what plagues us every single day, while death only plagues us once. Yet we hold on to life, believing that it is more deserving of indulgence, while ignoring death in which rests our ultimate legacy. However, taking a position on either extreme of this realisation is ill advised because it will leave us wanting.

    We are needy by nature. Through a volatile concoction of our needs, our ego, our fears, and not least of all our expectations, we sometimes find ourselves overwhelmed by the lacking sense of fulfilment because that toxic concoction is most often focused on seeking fulfilment from other beings not less feeble than ourselves. Those tainted perspectives are nurtured by our fears which are a result of yet other tainted perspectives relative to a specific life experience. Just as every experience results in joy or pain, every outcome results in an informed learning experience, or a reason to recoil and protect ourselves from a similar situation in future.

    But where does it all start? When is the seed sown that gives birth to the bitter tree that roots us in fear rather than an embracing passion? I suspect that the answer to that question is really irrelevant the moment we attain an age of self-awareness. As has been said, the beauty of the brain is the fact that it uses itself to analyse itself. For this reason there is nothing that compels us to suffer from the distorted perspectives that we inherited from the toxic environments in which we may have been raised. Unless there is a desire to achieve more, we will always hold on to less. That desire is based entirely on choices we make, but the choices we make are directly related to our frame of reference that we choose for ourselves.

    It sounds complicated, but it really is not. No matter how negatively indoctrinated we may be, we know what makes us feel good versus what makes us feel significant. Unfortunately we seldom take the time to notice the difference. Significance is based on how we are perceived, while feeling good, in simple terms, is based on how we feel about others. If our perspectives are focused on how others feel about us, we will inevitably travel a destructive path that will find us miserable and isolated even if surrounded by a room full of significant others. But, if our perspectives are focused on how we feel about others, we’ll find that we are forced to acknowledge and clarify what we stand for, which in turn will question our points of reference, which in turn will result in an awareness of self and surroundings that would otherwise go unnoticed.

    Our tainted perspectives are only inherited as long as we choose not to exercise our ability to be conscious and mindful of who we are and what we stand for. It is an ability, not a gift, nor a learned skill. It is born from a desire to want to know more, to want to be more, and to want to achieve more than the sum of our inheritance. That desire, I believe, is innate the moment we’re born. That is why the baby goes from laying helpless to crawling, to walking, to running, because without being able to effectively communicate, it is already wired to progress rather than to remain stagnant. It is for this simple reason that those of us that hold on to the past, or that resist growth for fear of failure, most often suffer debilitating diseases later in life because our bodies reach a threshold. That threshold is its ability to remain resilient in the face of the unnatural pressures that we subject it to. Eventually, it succumbs, and then we chase about sympathetically looking for cures for these invaders of our bodies, too timid to admit that it is us that our bodies need to be protected from.

  • Does It Matter?

    I watch with a very cursory sense of interest how the significance which people associate with their contribution to a given course or situation influences their conviction in what they say or do. This becomes somewhat morbidly amusing when I see all the corporate gurus that define elaborate strategies to foster staff engagement and collaboration, always focusing on creating opportunity for inclusion and discussion, but completely missing the point of significance.

    The simple truth, from my vantage point anyway, is that if you don’t think your input matters, you’re highly unlikely to make any concerted effort to contribute meaningfully to begin with. So the few that realise this will go around reminding people how much they matter, and how important they are to the success of the outcome. Too many fall for these empty gestures aimed at manipulating them while only a few would question the sincerity of it given the absence of a suitable delegation of authority to be able to influence the outcome in a material way.

    I think somewhere in there lies the secret to being a successful leader in a hypocritical society, where a measure of hypocrisy is excusable, if not needed, because everyone apparently does it. I find it difficult to buy into the ‘everyone does it so it’s ok’ mind set. It implies that offensive behaviour suddenly becomes acceptable just because most people have degraded to that point. It means that the gradual decline of society into the moral abyss must be embraced because everyone will be doing it. The logic fails me, more so because there are so many that subscribe to it.

    But that is not what this ramble was intended to be about. The clutter and noise makes the maintenance of a train of thought extremely difficult these days. Distracted by what is worthwhile and what is not, I’m spending more time focusing on being measured in my responses to those that don’t deserve it, and less time on just being true to my convictions. This is tiring. It exhausts me to have to be this deliberate just because of the need to protect myself politically from those that embrace that normalised hypocrisy.

    I’m too much of an elitist to succumb to such a commonly pathetic way of life. On this front, being arrogant would be the vice that I would embrace given that the brazen hypocrisy of others is merely the fruit of their arrogance. Therefore, if my philosophy on dealing with arrogance holds true, my elitist approach is in fact a duty to civil society.

    That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

  • 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.

     

  • If You Were In Love With You

    I often tell people to take care of themselves. And people often say thanks and return the sentiment. But more often than not, it’s simply a cordial exchange of sentiments and not much more. Today, for some reason, I found myself considering what it would actually entail if we applied it to ourselves. How would we take care of ourselves if we actually did it deliberately and not just as a matter of course?

    I think we would see ourselves very differently if we saw ourselves through the eyes of one that we would like to believe was truly in love with us. I think that we’re afraid to see ourselves that way because for some strange reason we seem to wait until someone else sees us in that light before we believe we’re deserving of such care and consideration. So I wondered then how I would treat myself if I were in love with me. Would I still be as reckless, or as oblivious, or would I want to indulge myself in every moment absorbing the beauty of life and the amazingly endless possibilities that await me?

    When we look at others with love and affection, we unconsciously project our dreams and aspirations on them, but would adapt such goals in line with the context of the happiness we desire for them, and not our own. We feign sacrifice in the belief that their happiness is more important than ours, while ignoring that our ability to make them happy is in fact what we desire affirmation of. Nonetheless, the pursuit of their happiness becomes our mission in life, and anything that compromises that goal brings out a side of us that often surprises even ourselves.

    So why then do we recede so easily in the face of the slightest obstacles that compromise the achievement of our own happiness that we need to give as a gift to ourselves? Why is it that we find it difficult to love ourselves if the love of another is absent? And so I wondered if you were truly in love with you, how would you treat yourself? How would you take care of yourself, and how reckless would you really be with your life?

    There seems to be an underlying conditioning that causes us to base our self-worth on the effort that others put in to contribute towards our happiness. This underlying conditioning is what drives us towards acts of self-sabotage whilst simultaneously giving us the reasons we need to justify why we don’t deserve better, at least not until someone else says we do.

    It’s all a charade. We invest in others more than we invest in ourselves because we need to believe that we’re significant only when we make a difference in someone else’s life, or when someone else needs us. And then also, that need must be overt, and more importantly, it must be a need that we want to fulfil or else it becomes a burden and not a blessing.  Even the most egotistical amongst us behaves anally narcissistic because of a fear of insignificance, not because of a true belief of self-worth. The strange thing is that if we made a definite effort to truly take care of ourselves, we’d probably attract the kind of person that would truly complement our lives rather than seeking out one that completes those areas that we lack the confidence to fulfil for ourselves. It’s that cycle of need that leads to emotional dependence rather than mutual affection and respect.

    The vicious circles of life plague us more than we will ever truly realise. Very few of them keep us grounded, but the vast majority keep us enslaved to our own insecurities. I’m not quite sure what the point of this post was, or if I even managed to make a meaningful point, but I suspect that somewhere in there lies a truth that will prove valuable at some point in my short life.

  • A Humble Ego

    I noticed the disruptive force of popularity on me recently and I wondered if that may not be the root to all evil? My ego seems to be most stoked when I enjoy critical acclaim and recognition from others, but given a minute to reflect on the source of such acclaim, I’m quickly reminded about its fickleness. Not the acclaim, but the source. I’ve often contemplated whether or not maintaining a consciously humble disposition is possible, and this further convinces me that it’s not.

    The moment we’re aware of our humility, it plants seeds of arrogance because the knowledge of such a state being aspired to by many is reason to believe that we’re better than them for having acquired it. So the pursuit of humility remains elusive. I find myself once again debating each point I write and back tracking to remove my thoughts because it fails at the tests of logic. The logic that drove me to want to write this post suggests that if I remind myself of the basis on which people polarise towards the popular, it will deny me the reason to take comfort in their praise.

    We’re all weak. We’re all equally weak. What sets us apart is our ability to disguise those weaknesses as strengths. Where we’re weak in our need for recognition and affirmation, we’re strong in our ability to garner such attention. The avenues we choose to pursue as noble endeavours to garner that attention is what is displayed as a passion that others are drawn towards, all the while believing that we’re inspired, when in fact we’re satisfying our need to be recognised amongst those we admire.

    It seems life is an endless circle of vicious cycles. Even the cycle of life has its own viciousness that forces us to collaborate and collude in artful ways that distracts us from the cycle and convinces us that what we pursue is in fact purpose. I’m starting to wonder if it’s purpose at all that drives us, but instead a need to be distracted from reality? Like they say, a man sees the world too clearly from the mountain. It takes a brave man to embrace the reality that becomes evident in such a moment, while the rest of us paint pretexts and contexts that serve to convince us that we are in fact significant.

    Everything that I witness around me points to the innate desire to be significant. Even the most ascetic amongst us seeks the significance in the eyes of the one they adore or worship, while those that surrender the goal of acquiring such significance are prone to self destruct, sometimes completely. The effort to reach into their soul and convince them that their significance directly inspires our own becomes ever more daunting because if we fail to convince them, we risk stepping on the same slippery slope of self abasement from which we attempted to rescue them. Another vicious cycle.

    I guess the true reality is that the ego is only as arrogant as the observer. The one who witnesses the arrogance in others without seeing their weaknesses that underlie such repugnant behaviour are in fact the ones that are least in touch with their own weaknesses, or their own insecurities. When we believe that we’re better than that, we look condescendingly on those who are arrogant, but the moment we realise the collective weakness we share that gives rise to such outward displays of fear, we find ourselves compelled to view them with empathy instead.