So, I'm trying to wrap my head around some "new" concepts. Writing (my form of verbalization) is the best way to put my thoughts in order...or, at least, hurry them on their little way to being in order.
I found a list of 70 Reminders to help put life in perspective, and--as always--I felt compelled to actually do something. This is useful because, well, I constantly need reminders. Okay, more like slaps in the face, but these work as well. A few things stuck out:
68. the only thing you can change about people is your relationship with them.
64. using age-old methods to solve new-age problems is setting yourself up for failure.
45. the answers are always right in front of us. Just open your eyes.
1. Believe that even the smallest compliment can save someone's life.
Out of 70 statements, these four stuck out. Not because the rest were crap, but because these four fit where I'm at in my life, the most. if I'm on my journey to be like the crystal, then I need to open myself up. Recognizing the potential in every connection, in every interaction is a powerful place to start because, well, I am at least 50 percent of that interaction. While I may not be able to change the way the other person feels, I can change the way that I behave towards them...hmm, illumination is happening already--this is both great and scary.
Um, sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah. By learning to appreciate others I better open myself up to be like that crystal.
The crystal needs, light in order to show its transparency, right? I mean, how do we understand a crystal to be a crystal other than by its qualities, and if one of its major qualities is translucence, then without this transparency the crystal would just be another rock. But that's not just it; in order to be transparent, the crystal is dependent on its interaction with the light. Without the light passing through it--interacting with it--there would be no way to discover the crystal's transparency. Now, I understand this is a grossly oversimplified rundown of both the philosophy of interactions, and the physics of light, but it makes sense.
The key to being transparent (open) is in recognizing that my interactions with other people are not only key to their own happiness, but key to my own. By recognizing the value in each person, I can better recognize the value in myself, not on a scale of better-thans, but on a plane of equality.
In the end, the answers have really been right in front of me. I've just had my eyes closed. It's time to open them to what's before me. One blink at a time, until I can keep them open.
Showing posts with label theory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theory. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
I'll give you what I want.
I need to create a new space for myself. I'm not sure I like this one anymore.
I've often prided myself on believing that I could easily adapt to change. I've thought of myself as someone who is able to "go with the flow", as they say, and not be bothered by the inconsistencies in life.
I s'pose I lied. Funny thing, that denial is. It's a strong drug. And the worst thing about it: it's like natural gas. It's insipid and vastly unnoticeable. That is, until you add a scent to it. This makes it all the more lethal.
There is not much that a person can do until they recognize just how deep in denial they are. I just so happen to find myself chest level. Heh. And there I go my whole life thinking that I'm not that great of a swimmer. I've been wading for quite some time. The simple truth of the matter is, my hubris hurt me. See, I've recently come to the conclusion that I'm human. That is, I know nothing. I am more vulnerable, less self-sustainable, and more stagnant than I previously gave myself credit for being. This is a pretty grand--and obviously, bleak--realization for one to make.
Okay, so, for many people, me typing this probably obviates the argument that I am simply "human". Unfortunately, this is a grand oversight on many people's part. In making this realization, I have separated myself from about 95% of the world. Most people believe themselves to be what Descartes would call "Man". They are the makers of their own destiny (to some extent) and they are capable of knowing everything that they need to know. Man is about control. Man is above the world. However, I, as a human, find myself situated within it. Humanity, as opposed to Man(ness?) is an understanding of a less controlling existence. I've come to realize that all that I know pales in comparison to all that there is to know. Nothing is for certain and my knowledge is only as far as my experiences. These experiences and reality don't always match up 100%. This realization was my first step in recognizing my own denial.
Where I thought I was, I wasn't. Instead, I was seeing myself as I hoped I could be. And this, is why I say that my experiences and reality don't always sync up perfectly. Denial caused me to project the image (in my head) of who I thought I would like to be. Really, to me, I was a pretty decent guy. When this happens, it's quite difficult to see why so many bad things happen to you. (This, if goes unchecked, can lead to the "victim mentality". But that is a topic for another post.)
Luckily, I have come to realize that life, sometimes gives what you give. Hmm, this seems a bit pessimistic, but it's really optimism. It's only the pessimist who find this to be pessimistic. If you are given lemons, as they say, and you make lemonade, as they say, then you will be given lemonade (what? I like commas). Get it? Once you make what you want to make, life will give it to you. Unfortunately, for most of us, life doesn't give handouts. But it will hand out what we make from it. This is where denial begins to wear things down.
When you can't see that you are not who or where you want to be, then you can only give life a certain set of ingredients. Yet, once you recognize areas that need to be changed, and actively begin to change them, then you can receive a better product, because (as Papa John says) "better ingredients" makes "better pizza." Denial likes to seep in and keep us from realizing this fact. In doing so, it prevents us from truly accepting who and what we are so that we will remain who we think we are, and never know the difference. Of course, this is not a problem, unless you grow curious about why your life is the way it is. It's not always other people, sometimes--okay, most times--it's really you.
I've often prided myself on believing that I could easily adapt to change. I've thought of myself as someone who is able to "go with the flow", as they say, and not be bothered by the inconsistencies in life.
I s'pose I lied. Funny thing, that denial is. It's a strong drug. And the worst thing about it: it's like natural gas. It's insipid and vastly unnoticeable. That is, until you add a scent to it. This makes it all the more lethal.
There is not much that a person can do until they recognize just how deep in denial they are. I just so happen to find myself chest level. Heh. And there I go my whole life thinking that I'm not that great of a swimmer. I've been wading for quite some time. The simple truth of the matter is, my hubris hurt me. See, I've recently come to the conclusion that I'm human. That is, I know nothing. I am more vulnerable, less self-sustainable, and more stagnant than I previously gave myself credit for being. This is a pretty grand--and obviously, bleak--realization for one to make.
Okay, so, for many people, me typing this probably obviates the argument that I am simply "human". Unfortunately, this is a grand oversight on many people's part. In making this realization, I have separated myself from about 95% of the world. Most people believe themselves to be what Descartes would call "Man". They are the makers of their own destiny (to some extent) and they are capable of knowing everything that they need to know. Man is about control. Man is above the world. However, I, as a human, find myself situated within it. Humanity, as opposed to Man(ness?) is an understanding of a less controlling existence. I've come to realize that all that I know pales in comparison to all that there is to know. Nothing is for certain and my knowledge is only as far as my experiences. These experiences and reality don't always match up 100%. This realization was my first step in recognizing my own denial.
Where I thought I was, I wasn't. Instead, I was seeing myself as I hoped I could be. And this, is why I say that my experiences and reality don't always sync up perfectly. Denial caused me to project the image (in my head) of who I thought I would like to be. Really, to me, I was a pretty decent guy. When this happens, it's quite difficult to see why so many bad things happen to you. (This, if goes unchecked, can lead to the "victim mentality". But that is a topic for another post.)
Luckily, I have come to realize that life, sometimes gives what you give. Hmm, this seems a bit pessimistic, but it's really optimism. It's only the pessimist who find this to be pessimistic. If you are given lemons, as they say, and you make lemonade, as they say, then you will be given lemonade (what? I like commas). Get it? Once you make what you want to make, life will give it to you. Unfortunately, for most of us, life doesn't give handouts. But it will hand out what we make from it. This is where denial begins to wear things down.
When you can't see that you are not who or where you want to be, then you can only give life a certain set of ingredients. Yet, once you recognize areas that need to be changed, and actively begin to change them, then you can receive a better product, because (as Papa John says) "better ingredients" makes "better pizza." Denial likes to seep in and keep us from realizing this fact. In doing so, it prevents us from truly accepting who and what we are so that we will remain who we think we are, and never know the difference. Of course, this is not a problem, unless you grow curious about why your life is the way it is. It's not always other people, sometimes--okay, most times--it's really you.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Lost...or Dormant?
I'd like to disperse a few thoughts. Maybe, in doing so, I can reconnect the fragments of my mind and find some clarity.
I've been charged with "following my bliss." Oddly, this has made me sad. Actually, it sparked, in me, a strong urge to cry--and to say that I cry easily is nothing short of an understatement. Maybe it was the weather--a cold gray. Maybe it was the nature of my environment--a parking lot littered with idle cars who, like me, were going nowhere. But for a while, I couldn't explain this urge; although, I instinctively knew from where it came: I've lost a lot of that spark that I once had. Not much holds excitement, anymore. Not much holds life. This I recognize. What, I fear, caused the urge to cry was the thought that, in all honesty, I am not sure when I lost it. That spark. That excitement for life. It's one thing to recognize that the spark is gone. It's another thing to not know when or why it has went dormant.
This is private stuff.
Dormant. Is this a shift from my proclamation of having lost my spark? This word seems less of choice as it does necessity. As of now, I have a desire to believe that this spark (my spark) has not left for good, but is instead only buried--somewhere deep within. Now, this would be an amendment to my earlier statement; thought, perhaps, not too much of one. I'll admit this. After all, what is the difference between "lost" and "dormant"? Are they two parts of one whole? Brothers--or, at the very least, cousins--in the great departure from the singularity of the found?
Ha! Listen to me: "the 'singularity of the found'"! What does that mean? Perhaps this is the problem in deed. Should I even consider the "found" as a singular body, when, in fact, it really is a conglomerate? Tiny fragments brought together by a concept of location. A location as spacial as it is temporal; but, then again, the two really cannot be separated, can they? Time is the space where experiences occur. Space, on the other hand, is a bit more tricky. Not only is it an expanse of Time, but it is an expanse without time. To say that Time expires in Space would be a false statement, because Time is Space; therefore, if Time expired in Space, Space itself would have to expire. I cannot accept this. However, similarly, while they may be seen as singular, there is nothing singular about them. Both Time and Space are conglomerate in their constitution. This, they share with the found. It is only in there appearance as a singular body that we seem to be able to understand them. By reduction--something we as humans seem to be very good at, by the way--we can find something onto which we can cling. So, returning to the notion of the 'singularity of the found', there is no singularity, per se, only an instance in an understanding--a reduction.
Then, it is from this reduction that I turn to the gap between the "dormant" and the "lost". If something is dormant, it can be reawakened. Similarly, if something is lost, it can be rediscovered. Or its potential can be re-found. "Re-found"? This makes sense. If something is lost, then that means that it was once found, or had. To say that something that is lost is found seems to me an oxymoron because the act of being lost assumes that a thing was previously in possession. To have something for the first time--or for a span of time--is to have found it. So, once it is rediscovered, it is not found, but, rather, "re-found". It is returned to its previous state found being found. Hm, while this may seem to throw a kink in the word's connection to "dormant", I believe the opposite is true. If something goes dormant then it had once been awake. If something is lost then it had once been found. Thinking about this, it seems that the greatest gap between the two is due to their reduction. Where dormant is a temporal displacement (or loss), lost is a spacial displacement (or loss). The reduction of the two, without connecting time to space, as was previously discussed, creates a gap in the understanding of each.
Reconnecting Space to Time allows the connection between dormant and the lost to be reunited because it becomes apparent that the two are parts of one whole. A dormant item is lost in Time, as a lost item is dormant in Space, while both span the conglomerate body of experience. Of life. Both, then, maintain an air of hope within them. The dormant always threatens to reawaken, while the lost always threatens to be rediscovered. Neither, ever the same as it was before its departure. Sometimes it comes back needing to be polished; sometimes it comes back with more vigor than it left. Sometimes...well, sometimes it waits for someone else to find it.
Now, how does all of this relate to the initial discussion of the state of my spark? Well, honestly, it doesn't really matter which word I choose (lost or dormant) because either way, it can be reanimated. With enough searching, enough prodding, enough diligence, and maybe even, enough time, I am sure it can shine like new...or perhaps, even brighter! And then, truly, can I begin to "follow my bliss".
I've been charged with "following my bliss." Oddly, this has made me sad. Actually, it sparked, in me, a strong urge to cry--and to say that I cry easily is nothing short of an understatement. Maybe it was the weather--a cold gray. Maybe it was the nature of my environment--a parking lot littered with idle cars who, like me, were going nowhere. But for a while, I couldn't explain this urge; although, I instinctively knew from where it came: I've lost a lot of that spark that I once had. Not much holds excitement, anymore. Not much holds life. This I recognize. What, I fear, caused the urge to cry was the thought that, in all honesty, I am not sure when I lost it. That spark. That excitement for life. It's one thing to recognize that the spark is gone. It's another thing to not know when or why it has went dormant.
This is private stuff.
Dormant. Is this a shift from my proclamation of having lost my spark? This word seems less of choice as it does necessity. As of now, I have a desire to believe that this spark (my spark) has not left for good, but is instead only buried--somewhere deep within. Now, this would be an amendment to my earlier statement; thought, perhaps, not too much of one. I'll admit this. After all, what is the difference between "lost" and "dormant"? Are they two parts of one whole? Brothers--or, at the very least, cousins--in the great departure from the singularity of the found?
Ha! Listen to me: "the 'singularity of the found'"! What does that mean? Perhaps this is the problem in deed. Should I even consider the "found" as a singular body, when, in fact, it really is a conglomerate? Tiny fragments brought together by a concept of location. A location as spacial as it is temporal; but, then again, the two really cannot be separated, can they? Time is the space where experiences occur. Space, on the other hand, is a bit more tricky. Not only is it an expanse of Time, but it is an expanse without time. To say that Time expires in Space would be a false statement, because Time is Space; therefore, if Time expired in Space, Space itself would have to expire. I cannot accept this. However, similarly, while they may be seen as singular, there is nothing singular about them. Both Time and Space are conglomerate in their constitution. This, they share with the found. It is only in there appearance as a singular body that we seem to be able to understand them. By reduction--something we as humans seem to be very good at, by the way--we can find something onto which we can cling. So, returning to the notion of the 'singularity of the found', there is no singularity, per se, only an instance in an understanding--a reduction.
Then, it is from this reduction that I turn to the gap between the "dormant" and the "lost". If something is dormant, it can be reawakened. Similarly, if something is lost, it can be rediscovered. Or its potential can be re-found. "Re-found"? This makes sense. If something is lost, then that means that it was once found, or had. To say that something that is lost is found seems to me an oxymoron because the act of being lost assumes that a thing was previously in possession. To have something for the first time--or for a span of time--is to have found it. So, once it is rediscovered, it is not found, but, rather, "re-found". It is returned to its previous state found being found. Hm, while this may seem to throw a kink in the word's connection to "dormant", I believe the opposite is true. If something goes dormant then it had once been awake. If something is lost then it had once been found. Thinking about this, it seems that the greatest gap between the two is due to their reduction. Where dormant is a temporal displacement (or loss), lost is a spacial displacement (or loss). The reduction of the two, without connecting time to space, as was previously discussed, creates a gap in the understanding of each.
Reconnecting Space to Time allows the connection between dormant and the lost to be reunited because it becomes apparent that the two are parts of one whole. A dormant item is lost in Time, as a lost item is dormant in Space, while both span the conglomerate body of experience. Of life. Both, then, maintain an air of hope within them. The dormant always threatens to reawaken, while the lost always threatens to be rediscovered. Neither, ever the same as it was before its departure. Sometimes it comes back needing to be polished; sometimes it comes back with more vigor than it left. Sometimes...well, sometimes it waits for someone else to find it.
Now, how does all of this relate to the initial discussion of the state of my spark? Well, honestly, it doesn't really matter which word I choose (lost or dormant) because either way, it can be reanimated. With enough searching, enough prodding, enough diligence, and maybe even, enough time, I am sure it can shine like new...or perhaps, even brighter! And then, truly, can I begin to "follow my bliss".
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