I decided, I'm just going to blog about my daily life and interesting things I find/read/encounter. Hopefully it won't be too boring.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Sunday, February 17, 2008
#4 - Anger
It's mostly a defense mechanism. A fleeting emotion that arises when something does not go your way, someone betrays your trust, or something equally undesirable occurrence in one's life. Yet, with this said, anger, as we know it, is not a real emotion.
Underneath any degree of anger in any person, you can find the root emotion, the true emotion. The deepest of sorrows. An epic sadness. And it is usually such a deep, deep sadness, one you almost cannot relate to. One you cannot help or do anything about. And the frustration of your helplessness, the mere heat of realizing you are one powerless soul who can do so little to change the course of the universe - that is the true essence of anger.
In this helpless haze, many people make rash decisions, attempting to take a hold of what is going on around them. A fruitless attempt to rid themselves of the powerlessness, usually. This, then, transforms sadness into a frustrated rage, an outlash of emotion in all forms. In reality, the anger that can be seen on the face of a three-year-old toddler whose mother refuses to buy a desired toy is the exact same anger that afflicts the face of a woman seeking revenge for the murder of her loved one. They are both helpless, frustrated, inconsolably sad, unable to find a way to remedy the situation, and in the end may resort to animal instincts, spurts of emotion, to grasp on to every last bit of power they have to coerce the universe into bending to their needs. Anger is a hurtful sadness that overcomes reason.
Anger isn't real, and perhaps because I realize this, I never feel angry about anything. I have been betrayed, hurt, and life has been less than fair to me, yet I do not get angry. I never take out my emotions on another person, and I forgive other's angered comments or actions very easily. When someone is sad and feels helpless, and are using a defense mechanism, a shield of "anger", the last thing you can do is walk away. Most people put up shields so someone will take them down. Walls are built around us all because we sit inside, quietly hoping, patiently waiting, for someone to come knock them down. We yell at people and get angry at them because we want them to know how helpless we feel. Many people fail to realize this, however, and these helpless people end up alone in life and lead fruitless lives due to people misunderstanding their true feelings and perpetuating their lonely sad interiors.
The only thing that can outweigh this is compassion. Compassion is the only thing that can work through the superficial emotion of anger and remedy the underlying sorrow and hurt. And maybe if that compassion spreads, less people would feel the need to put up their shield of anger to the world. Perhaps anger and hatred could be eradicated entirely, if people only understood, and reached out their hand and touched the soul of someone in need of warmth. Now, this seems as hopeless a goal as solving world hunger, you say.
Well, I say, just as solving world hunger, isn't it worth the try?
--
Underneath any degree of anger in any person, you can find the root emotion, the true emotion. The deepest of sorrows. An epic sadness. And it is usually such a deep, deep sadness, one you almost cannot relate to. One you cannot help or do anything about. And the frustration of your helplessness, the mere heat of realizing you are one powerless soul who can do so little to change the course of the universe - that is the true essence of anger.
In this helpless haze, many people make rash decisions, attempting to take a hold of what is going on around them. A fruitless attempt to rid themselves of the powerlessness, usually. This, then, transforms sadness into a frustrated rage, an outlash of emotion in all forms. In reality, the anger that can be seen on the face of a three-year-old toddler whose mother refuses to buy a desired toy is the exact same anger that afflicts the face of a woman seeking revenge for the murder of her loved one. They are both helpless, frustrated, inconsolably sad, unable to find a way to remedy the situation, and in the end may resort to animal instincts, spurts of emotion, to grasp on to every last bit of power they have to coerce the universe into bending to their needs. Anger is a hurtful sadness that overcomes reason.
Anger isn't real, and perhaps because I realize this, I never feel angry about anything. I have been betrayed, hurt, and life has been less than fair to me, yet I do not get angry. I never take out my emotions on another person, and I forgive other's angered comments or actions very easily. When someone is sad and feels helpless, and are using a defense mechanism, a shield of "anger", the last thing you can do is walk away. Most people put up shields so someone will take them down. Walls are built around us all because we sit inside, quietly hoping, patiently waiting, for someone to come knock them down. We yell at people and get angry at them because we want them to know how helpless we feel. Many people fail to realize this, however, and these helpless people end up alone in life and lead fruitless lives due to people misunderstanding their true feelings and perpetuating their lonely sad interiors.
The only thing that can outweigh this is compassion. Compassion is the only thing that can work through the superficial emotion of anger and remedy the underlying sorrow and hurt. And maybe if that compassion spreads, less people would feel the need to put up their shield of anger to the world. Perhaps anger and hatred could be eradicated entirely, if people only understood, and reached out their hand and touched the soul of someone in need of warmth. Now, this seems as hopeless a goal as solving world hunger, you say.
Well, I say, just as solving world hunger, isn't it worth the try?
--
Thursday, February 7, 2008
#3 - Fate.
This is one of those tricky topics that I can't seem to find a definite stance on. My...confusion, for the lack of a better word, has caused much grief to those who have debated with me in the past on the validity and existence of this phenomenon of "fate." And I don't blame them, because I have no clue what to believe.
I was raised in a household that was very Hindu, and by a mother whose main philosophy consists of fate driving her life. She believes in divine intervention, superstitions, the evil eye - those sort of things that alter your life because "fate decided it so." Everything that happened was God's grace, or God's punishment, or it was "meant to be." At times, I feel she confused the idea of "fate" with the idea of God, a higher being, or a higher conscience that guides you through life, not determines your life. This is very different from the predestination, predetermined life, sort of phenomenon that Calvinists, and my mother, seem to preach.
Frankly, it's unsettling, the notion that we have very little control over what we do and that someone out there is delicately designing our lives. It's quite scary, actually. (I just got a chill down my spine, similar to how I felt after watching The Matrix). I like to think that most, if not all, of the events that occur in our lives are a direct or indirect result of our own actions. If you get run over a car (apologies for the gory example), maybe you didn't look both ways. And even if you did, why were you crossing the street in the first place, knowing it might have been a rowdy, unsafe crossing. Or if it isn't, maybe you were taking a longer lunch break than usual, so it caused you to be on that street at the same time the car was speeding (this is more a karma-related example, I guess - a debate I'll save for a later post). Although that was a pretty horribly thought up example, you understand my point. You, in a sense, build and mold your own fate.
Though, you have to wonder. Those medical miracles, tornadoes ripping apart brick homes, yet leaving the family intact inside, even true love and the idea of "soulmates", aren't they all too good to be true? There has to be some divine business going on - it's too perfect, right?
Or maybe, consider the following (totally stole that from Bill Nye): We just don't give ourselves enough credit. Everything miraculous that happens, that's "too perfect" to be true, may as well be our higher evolutionary smarts getting to work. We can clone sheep and perform delicate surgeries using a programmed computer, so why can't we take a little bit of credit for things that happen in our lives?
But at the same time, giving ourself credit for the good means we have to take responsibility for the bad, as well. Most people simply don't like to do this, and therefore, voila, the idea of fate and the fact that it is responsible for everything comes into play and makes everyone happy (or at least content). I suspect my mother falls into this category somewhat. But hey, I'm no one to judge... I do it to occasionally. I am my mother's daughter. Everyone does to an extent, I think. It boils down to the human instinct of taking responsibility for the good, and blaming anything and anyone for the bad. Fate just fits the bill for those who don't like pointing fingers at other people (God doesn't seem to mind, I guess).
It's just very interesting, and twice as more befuddling, this concept of fate. Alas, perhaps I'm not fated to figure it out after all.
--
I was raised in a household that was very Hindu, and by a mother whose main philosophy consists of fate driving her life. She believes in divine intervention, superstitions, the evil eye - those sort of things that alter your life because "fate decided it so." Everything that happened was God's grace, or God's punishment, or it was "meant to be." At times, I feel she confused the idea of "fate" with the idea of God, a higher being, or a higher conscience that guides you through life, not determines your life. This is very different from the predestination, predetermined life, sort of phenomenon that Calvinists, and my mother, seem to preach.
Frankly, it's unsettling, the notion that we have very little control over what we do and that someone out there is delicately designing our lives. It's quite scary, actually. (I just got a chill down my spine, similar to how I felt after watching The Matrix). I like to think that most, if not all, of the events that occur in our lives are a direct or indirect result of our own actions. If you get run over a car (apologies for the gory example), maybe you didn't look both ways. And even if you did, why were you crossing the street in the first place, knowing it might have been a rowdy, unsafe crossing. Or if it isn't, maybe you were taking a longer lunch break than usual, so it caused you to be on that street at the same time the car was speeding (this is more a karma-related example, I guess - a debate I'll save for a later post). Although that was a pretty horribly thought up example, you understand my point. You, in a sense, build and mold your own fate.
Though, you have to wonder. Those medical miracles, tornadoes ripping apart brick homes, yet leaving the family intact inside, even true love and the idea of "soulmates", aren't they all too good to be true? There has to be some divine business going on - it's too perfect, right?
Or maybe, consider the following (totally stole that from Bill Nye): We just don't give ourselves enough credit. Everything miraculous that happens, that's "too perfect" to be true, may as well be our higher evolutionary smarts getting to work. We can clone sheep and perform delicate surgeries using a programmed computer, so why can't we take a little bit of credit for things that happen in our lives?
But at the same time, giving ourself credit for the good means we have to take responsibility for the bad, as well. Most people simply don't like to do this, and therefore, voila, the idea of fate and the fact that it is responsible for everything comes into play and makes everyone happy (or at least content). I suspect my mother falls into this category somewhat. But hey, I'm no one to judge... I do it to occasionally. I am my mother's daughter. Everyone does to an extent, I think. It boils down to the human instinct of taking responsibility for the good, and blaming anything and anyone for the bad. Fate just fits the bill for those who don't like pointing fingers at other people (God doesn't seem to mind, I guess).
It's just very interesting, and twice as more befuddling, this concept of fate. Alas, perhaps I'm not fated to figure it out after all.
--
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
#2 - Peace
No, its not exactly the first thing I have on my mind these days. In fact, the concept falls a bit short of scaring me to death. And for that reason, the restlessness and impatience in me tends to trump anything and everything I take on - whether it is successfully sitting through an entire Sopranos episode, my friendships with people, or the philosophy by which I live life. Is this being fickle? Perhaps. Am I worried? Hell no.
Youth is meant to be riddled with questioning, and uncertainty, and exploration. Everyone tends to go through that phase at one point or another, and well, that phase is currently running and going strong in the life of yours truly.
But it is interesting to note how quickly some people drop out of it. And the reason they do drop out of that phase constitutes the thin line between maturity and "settling." It is basically the difference between having a dependence on the condition of peace and stability in your life, and the less needy sentiment of simply accepting it as a part of a happy life.
Questioning, and the extreme poles of emotion that come along with that questioning, are essential in realizing your own range of potential and is the most instinctive and natural of conditions. In childhood, people carry out an unrestricted inquisition about everything, and consequently our rate of learning is the highest at that time. The happiness we experience as a child is so pure, and the quiet sadness just as. Our experiences are, on a whole, pure emotion.
As we get older, we start just accepting things and become too weary to challenge what life throws our way - some things because we have been taught through experience and time, but others because we are afraid. In that state of risk aversion, people settle. We no longer question, and when that happens some people end up with blind faith, some with no faith. Some people close themselves off from everyone, never allowing themselves to love, in fear of getting hurt or simply a fear of pure emotion. Life is taken at face value, and they live on because they must. Feeling becomes a sidenote, and the head tramples the heart.
This is hardly peace. It is stagnancy. It is ignorance, and unfortunately, its difficult, if not impossible, to leave this stage once in it. The raging fire in your heart that you've carried with you since childhood needs to be tamed, not extinguished, and once it's out, it's out.
Sure, you can't rush yourself to quickly "feel" and "experience" and then go on and wait for peace to come around and reward you for your efforts. It will come when you're ready, when you're prudent enough to fully realize that the middle way, stability, clarity, enlightenment - whatever you want to call it - is what ultimately will give meaning to the life you've lived so far.
Who knows. Right now, I'm not going to claim I've patented a definition for what peace is, nor do I want peace anytime soon. I'll find it when I reach a point in my life where I feel with my heart to find it. I like the chaos that goes on in my head at the moment. It's a welcome entertainment when the rest of the world seems to be too narrow-minded to really offer any inspiration.
But I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's important to note that life is meant to be lived, not paused during a particularly safe point of reference. Highs and lows alike should be welcomed with open arms. Clarity only comes to those who move towards it, and in order to move you need to keep growing and learning and experiencing.
So be a kid. Ask annoying questions. Explore daring avenues. And peace can take a back seat for a while.
--
Youth is meant to be riddled with questioning, and uncertainty, and exploration. Everyone tends to go through that phase at one point or another, and well, that phase is currently running and going strong in the life of yours truly.
But it is interesting to note how quickly some people drop out of it. And the reason they do drop out of that phase constitutes the thin line between maturity and "settling." It is basically the difference between having a dependence on the condition of peace and stability in your life, and the less needy sentiment of simply accepting it as a part of a happy life.
Questioning, and the extreme poles of emotion that come along with that questioning, are essential in realizing your own range of potential and is the most instinctive and natural of conditions. In childhood, people carry out an unrestricted inquisition about everything, and consequently our rate of learning is the highest at that time. The happiness we experience as a child is so pure, and the quiet sadness just as. Our experiences are, on a whole, pure emotion.
As we get older, we start just accepting things and become too weary to challenge what life throws our way - some things because we have been taught through experience and time, but others because we are afraid. In that state of risk aversion, people settle. We no longer question, and when that happens some people end up with blind faith, some with no faith. Some people close themselves off from everyone, never allowing themselves to love, in fear of getting hurt or simply a fear of pure emotion. Life is taken at face value, and they live on because they must. Feeling becomes a sidenote, and the head tramples the heart.
This is hardly peace. It is stagnancy. It is ignorance, and unfortunately, its difficult, if not impossible, to leave this stage once in it. The raging fire in your heart that you've carried with you since childhood needs to be tamed, not extinguished, and once it's out, it's out.
Sure, you can't rush yourself to quickly "feel" and "experience" and then go on and wait for peace to come around and reward you for your efforts. It will come when you're ready, when you're prudent enough to fully realize that the middle way, stability, clarity, enlightenment - whatever you want to call it - is what ultimately will give meaning to the life you've lived so far.
Who knows. Right now, I'm not going to claim I've patented a definition for what peace is, nor do I want peace anytime soon. I'll find it when I reach a point in my life where I feel with my heart to find it. I like the chaos that goes on in my head at the moment. It's a welcome entertainment when the rest of the world seems to be too narrow-minded to really offer any inspiration.
But I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's important to note that life is meant to be lived, not paused during a particularly safe point of reference. Highs and lows alike should be welcomed with open arms. Clarity only comes to those who move towards it, and in order to move you need to keep growing and learning and experiencing.
So be a kid. Ask annoying questions. Explore daring avenues. And peace can take a back seat for a while.
--
Friday, January 25, 2008
#1 - Juvenile?
Hardly.
The concept of a blog that is accessible to anyone and everyone may seem like something that would be appealing exclusively to an angsty teeny bopper, eager to publicly announce her prom date (of course, to make his ex-gf burn in jealousy) or to proclaim her new obsession with fake eyelashes (very trendy, I hear).
Alas, times are a-changing, and nowadays everyone who's anyone has a blog. Hell, I bet even Osama Bin Laden has a secret blog where he reveals all his plans of world domination in plain English. Except everyone thinks the blog belongs to "Joe White", some rebel, goth kid from Southern Iowa who watched a bit too much of Pinky and the Brain as a kid. Where's the Patriot Act when you need it.
But no, a blog is the "cool" thing to do these days. Or so I tell myself in dire hopes of justifying the creation of this thing to the very haughty, anti-bandwagon conscience that reigns over my right shoulder. In these attempts to be cool, however, I do not intend on reliving my Xanga years. I realize now that a script for Prozac and a canine best friend would've solved 99% of the problems I publicized via the oh-so-handy rant journal back in middle school. This blog won't be used to whine, complain, and ramble on about the "woes of life." Life can be quite irritating, to put it lightly. But I do enough complaining to a select few who, by now, probably want to strangle me and watch me slowly asphyxiate to death - I'd rather not increase that pool of people.
So what the hell is this blog about, if its not going to be about how much I hate life and where I'm going to cut myself next? I have no clue. I guess you'll find out as I do.
And that still doesn't answer the question: Why?
Boredom, a creative outlet, slight resurgence of teeny bopper attention needs, borderline intent of world domination - you pick. The important thing is that it's here. I write. You read. The end.
Enjoy the ride.
--
The concept of a blog that is accessible to anyone and everyone may seem like something that would be appealing exclusively to an angsty teeny bopper, eager to publicly announce her prom date (of course, to make his ex-gf burn in jealousy) or to proclaim her new obsession with fake eyelashes (very trendy, I hear).
Alas, times are a-changing, and nowadays everyone who's anyone has a blog. Hell, I bet even Osama Bin Laden has a secret blog where he reveals all his plans of world domination in plain English. Except everyone thinks the blog belongs to "Joe White", some rebel, goth kid from Southern Iowa who watched a bit too much of Pinky and the Brain as a kid. Where's the Patriot Act when you need it.
But no, a blog is the "cool" thing to do these days. Or so I tell myself in dire hopes of justifying the creation of this thing to the very haughty, anti-bandwagon conscience that reigns over my right shoulder. In these attempts to be cool, however, I do not intend on reliving my Xanga years. I realize now that a script for Prozac and a canine best friend would've solved 99% of the problems I publicized via the oh-so-handy rant journal back in middle school. This blog won't be used to whine, complain, and ramble on about the "woes of life." Life can be quite irritating, to put it lightly. But I do enough complaining to a select few who, by now, probably want to strangle me and watch me slowly asphyxiate to death - I'd rather not increase that pool of people.
So what the hell is this blog about, if its not going to be about how much I hate life and where I'm going to cut myself next? I have no clue. I guess you'll find out as I do.
And that still doesn't answer the question: Why?
Boredom, a creative outlet, slight resurgence of teeny bopper attention needs, borderline intent of world domination - you pick. The important thing is that it's here. I write. You read. The end.
Enjoy the ride.
--
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
