The mind is unquestionably the greatest asset of mankind; what it does for us is amazing. I would also say not only good things are amazing. These two statements are both true, with neither changing the other in any way. And so, the mind can do terrible things to us.
It seems that the mind is fond of patterns. This- when combined with ego- is a mentally fatal combination. It can kill who we are, purely because it thinks it knows who we are. Through our experiences, through our feedback, through our conversations with friends, we learn what people think of us. And then, through ego, we identify what we like about this and what we dislike; we build an image of ourselves and put into the aura of it all the traits we'd like to be. And then, whether with consciousness or not, we play to those traits. We morph our actions from what gave us those traits to those actions we think will reinforce them. For one, these actions are automatically worthless, for they aren't genuine; the only actions that will continue building our image as it is are the same automatic, genuine, and true actions we've done all along.
But I don't want to talk about that at all, because rooted deeper than that is the true issue, the fatal poison: we build an image of ourselves based on others' image of us, and thus turn our lives into a role that we try to fit. But by definition, a role is an act; it is not true. The moment we take in and adjust to the thoughts of others, we destroy ourselves. Our true self fades in the back and watches as the life we lead strays farther and farther. But never does our true self disappear, and this is the important part.
Haven't we all experienced a day, perhaps a period stretching over many days, perhaps months or longer, where we do things that we aren't truthfully committed to? We do it out of carelessness, and we do it with no effort- perhaps because often in this mode we have no effort to give, often we are husks in this mode, but that is a separate topic- and then later, once we are alone and subject only to our own thoughts, we feel like we've betrayed ourselves. Have you not experienced this? What comes with this is a vicious cycle that digs us deeper into our role and distances us further from our true self.
Soon (and it is soon; this happens faster than you may perceive it to, and once you perceive it, it's out of your grasp)- and this is where the weight of this problem takes its form- we are cut off from even the thoughts of our own true self. The only remaining feeling is something nagging at us, something caught in our bodies that makes living feel out of place, something that chokes us on our words, something that puts out our passions. And, when this feeling gets particularly strong, we confront it, because we are left with nothing else to do. And that is where we learn what is, and how it is different from what is not.
When we confront these thoughts, we reach back and make contact with our true selves, the self that knows all and denies nothing; it is one and the same with the truth of our lives. It is when we confront these thoughts that we recognize what we really think, what we really want, how we really feel. It is then that we understand ourselves, and feel comfortable once again in who we are; the shed the costume of our role and we rid ourselves of our script; we embrace life as it is, we understand what is.
For this reason and many others, I strongly believe every person should frequently subject themselves to the confessions of their deepest, most hidden thoughts, and then they should embrace those results. They should live with the new thoughts; they should act on these re-discoveries, and once again merge with their true selves. Because, when we say things such as "I'm going to pretend this isn't real..." are we not already admitting that whatever "this" is is in fact real? By admitting that we are pretending, we are admitting the truth of "this." And then what point is there in pretending? You will only put yourself back into that role, once again banishing and betraying your true self, and any action from there will be based on a facade. And what kind of life is one based on facades?
More than this, what sense does it make to lie to our mind? Anything we possibly know is stored in our minds. To try to deny our minds information that it already has and knows to be true is a contradictory; how does it follow to hide information from something with all information? To consciously deny information that the subconscious knows to be true, and thus what your true self and what your deepest self knows to be true, is to consciously and knowingly make the decision to live a life you do not truly want, and to continue even further from your true goals.
And so it is vitally important that we act on what is. It is key for us to embrace ourselves, because it is universally better for us to be ourselves, and the only way to do that is to not deny any truth, but to take it as truth and respond from there. We may not want it, but this reality is what it is with or without our permission. If there are truths you don't like, then accept that as the truth. It will make your true goal- to rid yourself of that truth- far more possible and much easier. This life, you will find, is a much better life when you and your true self are in constant agreement.
If there is a road to happiness, a path we can walk that gives us a good life, it is founded on what is.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Thursday, September 18, 2014
The Perks of Being Human
Being human is the most complex, confusing thing there is, isn't it? It should be, it encompasses everything else we do; by being human we're allowed to experience those other complex and confusing things.
Being human, it also seems, is a massive contradiction.
In video games, by principle, if I have the choice to make my character something other than human, I do. I'm human in real life, so if I wanted to do something as a human, I'd do it myself. I also never choose humans because often when compared to other species, fictional though they are, humans do not stand up to the others. Humans, more often than not, and what indeed makes them the "human" race, has one characteristic the other races never do: the not only ability, but likelihood of failing in the face of the final task.
Humans are weak.They give in, they collapse, they fail. It's a classic story in most novels. They have "the human flaw," where they fail to do what is needed because, very purely,of their emotions. Be it love, hate, depression, or, perhaps the most powerful, the feeling of nothing at all, humans are constantly driven from the correct decision by what they feel and these things that overcome their strength to make the right decision.
And I mean this beyond the realm of video games, fantasy worlds, or even in our imaginations. General life choices are made wrong because of a loved one, or out of spite, or because they're too hurt to do otherwise, or because they're too hurt to do anything at all. Relationships, jobs, love, passions, they all push us to do what we want rather than what may be the best for our well-being. Emotions and passion destroy us and hold us back from reaching our potential.
Isn't it odd, then, that emotions and passion are also what makes being human so beautifully amazing?
Isn't there some satisfaction, even if it's buried far under the pain, in feeling pain? Isn't that feeling- painful as it is- so pure and so true that it almost adds to the pain to feel so truthfully? And at the same time, isn't that a wonderful feeling? Isn't amazing to be able to feel that kind of pain? Isn't it more difficult to escape self-pity and leave painful memories behind because they bring such raw emotion to you, and isn't the aura that raw emotion wraps you in almost comforting?
This is the reason for sane madness. When you love so truthfully, so purely, there is no feeling that comes close. Then, when that love fails but doesn't vanish, what else can be done? We can't expect to get so high and fall with the same impact as if we never left the ground. And in that heartbreak, the passion is almost more than when it was love. But there's no outlet, no one to give it to, and no way to express it. We have our minds, but it is overrun with hollow, and at the same time, bursting emotion. And we wallow in it, because it does feel so good to feel. And so our greatest weakness, that which drives us from doing the right thing, also gives us comfort.
But I don't think I need to point out the damage this does to anyone who has experienced this, nor do I need to point out the problems with making bad decisions for this feeling. I would like to point out the true perks of being human, for pain is not the only emotion that comes so purely. We are capable of feeling passion through things that, in their literal form, should be nothing more than patterns or words, yet they are more.
Music, I will say to the death, is the most passionate expression of human being we have. Artists who fuel their own emotions and passion into what they do are capable of copying their emotions and giving them to every person who listens, thus giving listeners raw, pure emotion to experience for themselves. Every instrument, every melody, rhythm, and interaction between instruments and voice is capable of passing through you and exploiting passion within you. And it is so human to understand on this level, through music. This is the same reason fables- then books- now movies- have been so important. We are capable of feeling and investing in characters that- fictional as they are- make us feel human and make us feel the passions of their experiences.
And, so it seems, being human is not necessarily a contradiction; what brings us comfort- passion- does not necessarily have to hurt us. There are things, from others and through our own experiences, in which we can feel passionate and experience raw, pure emotion as only a human can, where it envelopes us completely. So do not look to feel through pain, but know, when it does come, that there is something wonderful about being able to feel such pain at all.
Being human, it also seems, is a massive contradiction.
In video games, by principle, if I have the choice to make my character something other than human, I do. I'm human in real life, so if I wanted to do something as a human, I'd do it myself. I also never choose humans because often when compared to other species, fictional though they are, humans do not stand up to the others. Humans, more often than not, and what indeed makes them the "human" race, has one characteristic the other races never do: the not only ability, but likelihood of failing in the face of the final task.
Humans are weak.They give in, they collapse, they fail. It's a classic story in most novels. They have "the human flaw," where they fail to do what is needed because, very purely,of their emotions. Be it love, hate, depression, or, perhaps the most powerful, the feeling of nothing at all, humans are constantly driven from the correct decision by what they feel and these things that overcome their strength to make the right decision.
And I mean this beyond the realm of video games, fantasy worlds, or even in our imaginations. General life choices are made wrong because of a loved one, or out of spite, or because they're too hurt to do otherwise, or because they're too hurt to do anything at all. Relationships, jobs, love, passions, they all push us to do what we want rather than what may be the best for our well-being. Emotions and passion destroy us and hold us back from reaching our potential.
Isn't it odd, then, that emotions and passion are also what makes being human so beautifully amazing?
Isn't there some satisfaction, even if it's buried far under the pain, in feeling pain? Isn't that feeling- painful as it is- so pure and so true that it almost adds to the pain to feel so truthfully? And at the same time, isn't that a wonderful feeling? Isn't amazing to be able to feel that kind of pain? Isn't it more difficult to escape self-pity and leave painful memories behind because they bring such raw emotion to you, and isn't the aura that raw emotion wraps you in almost comforting?
This is the reason for sane madness. When you love so truthfully, so purely, there is no feeling that comes close. Then, when that love fails but doesn't vanish, what else can be done? We can't expect to get so high and fall with the same impact as if we never left the ground. And in that heartbreak, the passion is almost more than when it was love. But there's no outlet, no one to give it to, and no way to express it. We have our minds, but it is overrun with hollow, and at the same time, bursting emotion. And we wallow in it, because it does feel so good to feel. And so our greatest weakness, that which drives us from doing the right thing, also gives us comfort.
But I don't think I need to point out the damage this does to anyone who has experienced this, nor do I need to point out the problems with making bad decisions for this feeling. I would like to point out the true perks of being human, for pain is not the only emotion that comes so purely. We are capable of feeling passion through things that, in their literal form, should be nothing more than patterns or words, yet they are more.
Music, I will say to the death, is the most passionate expression of human being we have. Artists who fuel their own emotions and passion into what they do are capable of copying their emotions and giving them to every person who listens, thus giving listeners raw, pure emotion to experience for themselves. Every instrument, every melody, rhythm, and interaction between instruments and voice is capable of passing through you and exploiting passion within you. And it is so human to understand on this level, through music. This is the same reason fables- then books- now movies- have been so important. We are capable of feeling and investing in characters that- fictional as they are- make us feel human and make us feel the passions of their experiences.
And, so it seems, being human is not necessarily a contradiction; what brings us comfort- passion- does not necessarily have to hurt us. There are things, from others and through our own experiences, in which we can feel passionate and experience raw, pure emotion as only a human can, where it envelopes us completely. So do not look to feel through pain, but know, when it does come, that there is something wonderful about being able to feel such pain at all.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Solitaire
Have you ever played Solitaire? Not Spider Solitaire; nothing against it, but I mean the original Solitaire. If not, go play. This blog will be right here when you get back.
See? All set. Now you'll have a better grip on what I'm saying.
I love Solitaire. It's a great game. It's not necessarily easy, but it's not difficult either. It can also be a game you either play absentmindedly (though you'll certainly miss things) or with a lot of focus. It passes time if you're bored, and there's a great feeling of success when you win.
But that's what I love about Solitaire: you rarely win. Of all the times I've played, I've won maybe 60%-70% of the time. Or at least I think I have. That's one value of Solitaire: you don't really lose until you give up looking for more moves. You could potentially play on the computer and just hit "M" until there's no more options, but that's no fun- not for me, anyways. Without doing that, you just look at the cards, and if you can't find anything, you lose. The potential exists that you actually did lose- Solitaire isn't a game you're guaranteed to win; it can be that from the initial deal there actually is no way to win at all. But you don't realize that, and you won't until you give up, or you decide that it's probably a lost game.
And as for how long it takes you to be convinced of that? It's up to you and your personal determination. I've sat with one game of Solitaire for almost a full hour looking at how I could keep going with it (the beginning of the game was smooth and things were falling into place, until they didn't. But I wanted to finish the game). In that case, I was able to re-arrange things enough to find a way to win. I've also sat there for half an hour, or forty-five minutes, and other spans of time looking for a way to beat a game that in the end I conceded to. On the other end of the spectrum, after I've played a few games in a row and can't find a move, I've given up in approximately five seconds. But you decide the length of the game, and when you've lost.
It's these points that made me think about Solitaire in a way that holds lessons for life. When playing with a deck of cards or without the "M" function, you NEVER know if you've ACTUALLY lost a game of Solitaire. You decide when you do- and that's limited by your own perspective completely. I guarantee some of you readers could have come by and taken a game I've given up on farther than I did. And that has value: it teaches you- literally- when to fold and walk away. It tests your determination, but for the sake of time and a potential better game (or opportunity) in the future, also when to move on. Not only that, but I think Solitaire is a good representation of life itself. Nothing is certain in Solitaire- you won't always succeed, you won't know if you could have done better. Nothing is certain in life in these same ways. In life, you won't know if you could've handled a situation better, because you can't go back and try again. You can reflect, things can come up in your mind later, but by then it's already been done. And by no means can that scare us away from playing.
Perhaps the most important thing about Solitaire is precisely that, is that it forces you to decide. Even with the knowledge you might have a 0% chance of winning, or you might fail along the way, if you play the game, you're forced to move on and play on. You're forced to move the cards and play with some confidence in the idea that the moves you are making are the moves that lie on the path leading you to success. Even more permanent, and therefore requiring more self-assurance and commitment: you're forced to decide when you've lost. And that takes a lot from the mind. When you make a mistake, you'll learn from it in your next game, but you have to now deal with the decision you made, and now make more to try to fix what you did wrong.
Although, I suppose you could just not play Solitaire; you could just walk away from the game and throw it away. But what if you just don't play in life?
See? All set. Now you'll have a better grip on what I'm saying.
I love Solitaire. It's a great game. It's not necessarily easy, but it's not difficult either. It can also be a game you either play absentmindedly (though you'll certainly miss things) or with a lot of focus. It passes time if you're bored, and there's a great feeling of success when you win.
But that's what I love about Solitaire: you rarely win. Of all the times I've played, I've won maybe 60%-70% of the time. Or at least I think I have. That's one value of Solitaire: you don't really lose until you give up looking for more moves. You could potentially play on the computer and just hit "M" until there's no more options, but that's no fun- not for me, anyways. Without doing that, you just look at the cards, and if you can't find anything, you lose. The potential exists that you actually did lose- Solitaire isn't a game you're guaranteed to win; it can be that from the initial deal there actually is no way to win at all. But you don't realize that, and you won't until you give up, or you decide that it's probably a lost game.
And as for how long it takes you to be convinced of that? It's up to you and your personal determination. I've sat with one game of Solitaire for almost a full hour looking at how I could keep going with it (the beginning of the game was smooth and things were falling into place, until they didn't. But I wanted to finish the game). In that case, I was able to re-arrange things enough to find a way to win. I've also sat there for half an hour, or forty-five minutes, and other spans of time looking for a way to beat a game that in the end I conceded to. On the other end of the spectrum, after I've played a few games in a row and can't find a move, I've given up in approximately five seconds. But you decide the length of the game, and when you've lost.
It's these points that made me think about Solitaire in a way that holds lessons for life. When playing with a deck of cards or without the "M" function, you NEVER know if you've ACTUALLY lost a game of Solitaire. You decide when you do- and that's limited by your own perspective completely. I guarantee some of you readers could have come by and taken a game I've given up on farther than I did. And that has value: it teaches you- literally- when to fold and walk away. It tests your determination, but for the sake of time and a potential better game (or opportunity) in the future, also when to move on. Not only that, but I think Solitaire is a good representation of life itself. Nothing is certain in Solitaire- you won't always succeed, you won't know if you could have done better. Nothing is certain in life in these same ways. In life, you won't know if you could've handled a situation better, because you can't go back and try again. You can reflect, things can come up in your mind later, but by then it's already been done. And by no means can that scare us away from playing.
Perhaps the most important thing about Solitaire is precisely that, is that it forces you to decide. Even with the knowledge you might have a 0% chance of winning, or you might fail along the way, if you play the game, you're forced to move on and play on. You're forced to move the cards and play with some confidence in the idea that the moves you are making are the moves that lie on the path leading you to success. Even more permanent, and therefore requiring more self-assurance and commitment: you're forced to decide when you've lost. And that takes a lot from the mind. When you make a mistake, you'll learn from it in your next game, but you have to now deal with the decision you made, and now make more to try to fix what you did wrong.
Although, I suppose you could just not play Solitaire; you could just walk away from the game and throw it away. But what if you just don't play in life?
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