Wednesday, December 3, 2014

We have no rights

You raise up your head
And you ask, “Is this where it is?”
And somebody points to you and says
“It’s his”
And you say, “What’s mine?”
And somebody else says, “Where what is?”
And you say, “Oh my God
Am I here all alone?”

- Bob Dylan, Ballad Of A Thin Man

What's mine? Well, what indeed is? As a matter of fact, what's ours? How does it become ours? In the politics of grabbing to keep, this becomes a pivotal moral question. Furthermore, what should we be able to expect without question and pay back to the givers in person-to-person, customer-to-company and inter-family relations?

In all the demands we make with these, there are never rules set. They are always based on reciprocationkinda like if-we're-in-this-together-it-has-to-be-give-and-take. Kinda like we just go with the natural limits of how far we can go with how much we are getting back, and we do that with equal sanctity for the other person's kickbacks as much as we protect ours with. That's fair and easy. Of course, all this includes the dynamics of sacrifice, love, affection and heart as well, wherever applicable.

Our disagreements of whose line ought to be drawn where, and what infringes into which (and whose) right, are natural and shapes how we view the world. It also changes our ideas about how it should be viewed in the best interest of everybody. Our interests are all intertwined. The isolation we live in these days is a fantasy that we're strangely affording ourselves that doesn't exist. We need each other to become ourselves. If we actually had no one in this non-existent isolated fantasy, we'll all be a bunch of absolute no ones.
This means that we are what we are to each other, for each other and for ourselves. That's a mighty fine line to balance, but an essential trait of a human society. We're not at war with anybody who's more right. We're at war within ourselves, exactly like how we play fantasy games on our smart devices with  no consequence, and the fervour we play them with (which comes with that very consequence). There's always a reset to beginning button and we continue playing again if we die, in any case.

This war is our raison d'etre even if we choose to choose a million other raison d'etres. We're born with it. We ignore it at our risk. We enjoy it with the growing benefit of actually co-creating our world, and welcoming the same co-creation into our lives as we move farther away from being no ones to becoming someones (all of us) who  have some use to somebody at least . If we insert selfish motives in this equation, we betray the very source of them. The only reason we would selfishly assert ourselves is because we have disconnected ourselves from network of constantly co-creating the world around us and ourselves;our purpose loses its ecosystem and, in effect, loses its purpose, as a result of which it force-finds a new purpose and uses threats as a means for survival. It's an all but natural reaction. Give it its original ecosystem and you'll lose the need to be selfish.

We have no rights. We only think we have them.When we reattach our roots, our rights fall out of place. Instead, we have a role to find a place in our ecosystem, that connects with the exact similar roles that everyone else has as well.

Monday, June 16, 2014

One for mid-life crisised

Referencing from these posts onwards: The confessions of an introvert | My coming out | The dilemma of managing a house | The perils (and lessons) from living in a competitive home environment

So, once you're done with all those posts, you would understand where I stand. A mid-life crisis is no mean enemy to anything good, positive and happy. It kills the spirit. It gives 'bleh!' a completely new definition - especially when you get up every morning with the feeling. What's worse is that it has a late realisation syndrome. You get to know of it when it weighs down on you like lead with has a super-high magnetic strip on the side (it never leaves, even if you want it to, with all your might).

It's an impossible situation. You're up against a wall that's built to block you. Life is lived with that wall always touching your nose, while you wait for some grace to come through. You're always waiting for a breakthrough. It's like going to a store everyday repeatedly hoping that it will be open and it never is, except for those few times that it is. It's only your good fortune (or misfortune) that you do find it open (and your world changes completely like as if you got the "open sesame" right that once), which is a really, really rare occurrence that your happiness depends on.  

Here's a word to those whose lives concur with a mid-life crisis, especially of this kind.

Bandwidth close to 0: Your world just shrunk, as much in a second as much as it was the open, free field that caused you your happiness. Your resources are scarce. When you don't realise it so much, you're like, "What the heck is this weird mood?". When you do, you're weary as hell of spending even a speck from it. You only consciously do that if you know there's a reward that's due for certain - implicit or explicit. Some things give you joy anyway (the implicit ones) and some need adequate response to be worth your while (the explicit ones).

Babysteps everyday: Once the confrontational conflict is over, the residue it leaves behind is like coming out from your underground hiding place after a war. The whole, wonderful, curated-for-happiness world that was the organic, natural place for you to thrive. Just when you thought the war was over and all will be normal again, you're hit with the fact that you've been forcefully oriented away from that world, in a millisecond. You literally have to feel your way around till your disorientation hits you. And, when you do, the shot to the head's the shocker-bomb. You're like, "Woaaahhhh!", but in the worst context ever. You come to detest the feeling but it's already embedded in your life. It's already a full part of your memoirs.

You know the habit, but you've lost the fire within. The exercise holds absolutely no value anymore. Any, and every, single one of your habits that organically mattered (and which you consequently weren't evaluative about but more than completely aware of and which you understood as you needed too) don't have the slightest meaning which they used to. They're foreign to you, despite you knowing how to repeat the exercise perfectly. Your identity has been silently switched for another and the yet unchanged depths of your soul refuse to accept it. You soon start to be thankful for the resilience that it has. That resilience, only, sustains you and pushes you forward.

Don't you dare take away my happy place: In the midst of all the disorientation, you're left without the side holder that you always had, that you never realised (which, too, you suddenly realised is gone - all in the same moment). The feeling's like hanging on to a plane in flight and having no hope of getting to a safer, normal place. Considering all that's stripped away from you, the last thing you want is to lose those precious places of happiness.

The only way you can last that plan is if you last this crisis. And the only way you can last this crisis is if you maintain your sanity. The most important part of that sanity are these precious moments which are sacrosanct. They are called happy places for a reason. If you take yourself them away from them, you become a sad places and all remaining hope in life simply vanishes into thin air.

These are your simple victories - the ones you prefer to celebrate even if I didn't have to go through a mid-life crisis. Given your present predicament, you're keeping them - close. They may be the only reason you will escape unscathed. You're keeping them, however inconspicuous to any grand plan of life and progress they may be. You need your head straight and sane till you get out of his mess please, thank you very much. If this is what it takes to make that possibility real, you're clinging on to them. It'll have to do.

Yes, I get it. I'm slow: The one thing people don't get about you is that you're experiencing it, more than you can possibly express the feeling. They either get it or they don't. And if they don't, they won't. They have to go through the same grind first.  Apparently, the pain of being seemingly unremovably chained down can be dealt in a minute with by using positive living advice out of a self-help motivational video or book. Indeed it can. Perhaps those who offer it should try it themselves first, in your shoes if at all they can wear them. Unfortunately for them, your breakthroughs are truly gold and have almost nothing to do with the effort you put in to achieve them. They appear and disappear. You really are lucky to catch any break, if you have the bandwidth left in the first place, to pounce on any one you may catch popping up - to make the best of them. You wait to devour moments like these that hold any promise.

Where's my key? Sorry, you don't have it: What sucks, and really does, is that you don't have the key to your own life (despite all those self-motivational quotes). During the storm that landed you in a mid-life crisis, it was sucked by the winds and it's nowhere to be found. Now you're stuck, groping in the dark, for anything that seems likely to be it because you want to get back up so badly and you have no clue. You just hope your almost zero bandwith won't give out because, then, you'd have to wait on those amazing moments to be popping up all over again.

Life sucks, doesn't it?

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Open Letter: The imposition of morality and amorality

Dear atheist/non-believer/extreme #equality proponent/cultural believer,

 I am writing this letter to you because of the increasing sense that I get from the world around me of what I am writing this letter to address. Let's call imposition. What it does it mean? It means to force-place something on someone else. Now, before I continue, let me say this: the way the world works is complicated. We do things and don't know we do them. We also, in many cases, have to end up doing the things we want to do by eventually affecting the things we don't want to affect. Given the single line of sight that we seem to have in mind, we wouldn't mind that eventuality. It certainly is easy to shove to the side than it is to actually face the true complexity of the world.

There have been disagreements, debates, fights and protests over our collective views (on each side) over the acceptance of homosexuality, pro-abortion rights, the existence of God and such... the list goes on. The views of each person on the same side don't necessarily match with each side's collective view, but are more or less same in spirit. Each side has their own rogue elements as well, as is expected from any large group of common interest.

Now, the crux of the matter - this 'interest'. It would seem that we have completely different such interests, all set within their own paradigms. I shall present our differences and make my case that they are essentially inarguable, one against another, for the reason that they are so different.

Almost the whole lot of you are absolute permissivists. Morality for you existeth not, except for a constructed one that's more a changing alibi that justifies whatever 'morality' be that you wish to keep - premises include the changing times et al. We all have one specific, most basic, set of rules that we follow, whatever be their premise and however briefly we follow them till the next change - full or partial (on whatever premise that may be, as well). Each point in time of our lives has a certain, stone-ised set of rules (not necessarily religiously or socially moral) that we, ideally, morally defend to death. None of us are truly amoral, or moralless, except those people who are indeed, completely shameless. I (who respects that), on the other hand, have a certain moral code that was not 'constructed'. It is widely followed (cue for credibility). I expect you to respect that. Those are our undeniable bases. We come to the table like that. We can come in no other form, and we aren't even close to stepping on toes yet.

The discussion regarding it has to be a religious discussion and must be had on the premise of one. You believe in no morality, except a convenient one, and I in some morality that I didn't construct which has existed since a while. To diss it, we would have to have a debate on the basis of religionism - its nature, benefits, and one that examines religion (after accepting and understanding it, even if just for the sake of argument). We can discuss historical origins, historical significance, benefits, sustainability, and even the old elementary question of God's very existence among other things, but we cannot discuss religionism vs. areligionism because that would not be a equal, discussion. Somehow, that is all we end up doing. You end up imposing your areligionism on my religionism. You're being more moralistic than me, in such a case. Your grounds are:

Rationality (If God could be proved, he wouldn't be whatever God I claim him to be.)
Non-'humanness' (We are all human beings, religious or not, and all systems stand to be abused for which the abusers need to  be faulted. That's why a religious discussion will separate true specific religion from abused religion. Throwing religion and God out like the baby with the bath water is not the solution. Religion has become far more integrated into life than for you to do that. There are some religious beliefs which are contradictory to the way everyday life happens. Reconciliation is a little difficult there, but nonetheless it remains a personal decision and doesn't yet breach the limits of individual humanity in most cases.)
Contradictions (I didn't claim perfection. I claim conviction. I'm willing to live with what I've chose. Remember #respect? I reserve the right to remain stupid (however we define it for the other person), as do you. We should leave essential discussion topics, in this context, out of the ambit of discussion.)
Phobia/Hatred (I haven't stoned anyone yet and note the second paragraph of this letter. I am saying what I believe and am exercising my choice to be able to (note the bit on reconciliation in the second point here).)
Universality of tolerance (An example here. There have been some attempts, to make a case in point, of a connection between racism and anti-homosexual marriage for many reasons because it's discrimination of a birth-state of a person. But, no, the two aren't equable. The disagreement comes when we just allow ourselves to say, whenever we feel like, "I, too, want your lollipop" and do what we please, as we please and when we please with no understanding and consideration any else that's connected. And when we disagree on the details in between, we allow ourselves to keep our views and not impose on another. But the 'pro'-homosexuality folk want the others to change their thinking in a rather innocent Orwellian 1984 style (which is what irks them when we don't just simply accept what they say is). As for for those us who impose Orwellian-aly in the other direction, note the second paragraph on this post)  

So there.     

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Don't date a girl...

Date a girl, but date her only if you must. When you do, date a girl, the concept of whom, hits you with *that* particular thrust. Date a girl whom you'll never understand why you even date, but you know, deep in your soul, exactly why you should. You should be weary of completely getting a hold of that feeling. Actually, that should be a teasing feeling that you welcomingly revisit and realise, each time, that it will never suffice. It should be a strange homely feeling that shows you a majestic home that's always bigger, more wonderful and unimaginably beautiful each time. It never runs out of rooms, colours or finesse.

Date a girl who draws you into a timeless frame, where minutes and seconds tick by in the form of her name. Their name causes in your head no extreme romanticised version of what being loved is, but a clear understanding of what you are to be. Date a girl who, no less than, completes you. Date the understanding, that comes with her, of all the solace you've been longing for in quiet thoughts of doubtful solitude.

Date her but throw away all protocol. Who pays, he or she, is not the most important question of all. The most important reason you're together is not to keep a rich, honourable tradition alive. Queens are queens for more reasons more than a King's sacrifice, and sometimes it's not even so. It comes from notions far deeper than plain ol' chivalry. If you're questioning any of them, once you find them, you shouldn't be dating her at all.

Date a girl... wait. No, don't date  a girl at all. Rather, love her. Stay with her, forever. Stay with someone you've found, whom you were looking for because you were looking for someone you will stay with, first. If you've found no one yet, stay on course without a worry as to where she'll be. You should find her someday, where she is. When she finds you, and your paths meet, you'll be all the more ready to stay. You stayed long enough, anyway, to stay all the way.

"You wanna go out on a date." "No, I have a boyfriend."
Relationships are yucky, and must be so | The L Word
The Exclusive Human Relationship Paradigm Constrict
They got married off and they're... | The excuse of needs
Of Relationships And Boxes

Friday, January 24, 2014

The Boredom Of Excess

Continuing on from my bemoaning of the loss of consequence, I've been noticing (I think subconsciously longer over the years than consciously now) how we keep trying to spice things up a bit so much of the time. We need one too many a kick from the last one - so much that the only kick that we need now is one on the butt!

Our inherent need for excitement is preceded by the filling up of our lives with boredom. So much boredom that it is becoming inherent enough to become permanently inherent. Just like pills that don't solve the problem, it won't really solve the problem if we have to keep taking them - the plan will never work. These are pills that have society's nod that regular drug taking doesn't have. We can can take million of these as long as it keeps the distance and keeps us from actually coming to a face-to-face encounter with the actuality (and the actual enormity) of our boredom, and the redundancy of most of what makes up our lives.

A case in point is my recent renewal of the regular watching of TV. Some of the shows I get to see being recent teen crazes, I've noticed that if any rightly-brought up teenager bases his understanding of love and relationships (and evilness) on these, the world is doomed to death! It's like as if we don't have enough already love (home, family, friends) that we need to dance on the hot coals of romance as a substitute. Love, if that's what it is, is a substitute for boredom - boredom of any kind. Boredom that's defined by the fact that one's boat is not being rocked, it must be rocked - at least till you're bored of it being rocked like that, and you need a change.

And that goes for any of the whims and fancies that we pursue. They have almost zero consequential value. We are a marketer's dream, the perfect consumer. We are such a bored lot that we make their jobs easier than it should be. It started with us being bored and they were too. Our boredom got the better of us, and our extreme boredom was victimised by their extreme boredom. Hence, we became their playground.

With the empty, soulless, busy-making-as-an-excuse pursuits that we've made ourselves accustomed to, they're having a field day everyday. What's strange is that none of it is intently evil. There is no malintent - just honest intent. Honest, bored intent that's masked so that we don't deal with the actual problem, the root of our boredom - our empty lives, the horror of which we simply turn a blind eye, ear and soul to.

Of course,  greener pastures are always more inviting and fun to escape to, but the dry deserts that we've made of our own pastures, that we're ignoring, are built with the resilience that will turn out to be a vengeance plan for us. Soon, those green pastures will soon run out. We won't be able to expand them into our home desert spaces. We'll have to water our own spaces from the bottom up, something we won't be able buy a solution for off' of a supermarket shelf, or even order online. It will be painful.

With the kind of masked, bored living we settle for nowadays, I would say we wouldn't even care. We'd still, like people who have been destined for hopeless fooldom indeed, will rather have an escapist,  green pasture that we didn't cultivate while ignoring the dying desert at home. We will do that until the vengeance of the desert throws us into such disarray that we have tear everything down - the entire imaginary world of boredom because we need a home that's built to work,  that's built with a solid, strong foundation. And, oh, how distant that home will be then.

It will have a strange closeness to us because it belongs to us, and, once, called to be nurtured like a seed in the ground that sensed its destiny from a million miles away.  It asked and we did not feed. We were lured by easier, nonetheless strange ideas that were sold to us. They were sold to us people who suffered, will suffer or are suffering the same fate. Where they originated from only God would know. But they're here now and spreading like a virus. Like thieves who kill for thrill, unstoppable and manic. They leave the spoil to rot, and rot it does indeed. We, the spoil, can choose otherwise though. We always could, even when we were burned and, over time, became numb to the fiery flames.

The calling of our desert at home to be fed or watered never stopped. It only grew louder and stronger. It may have sounded to us lame and desperate, but it was loud and wholehearted. It called not for its own sake, but for the sake of its own - the men and women to whom it is home, hauntingly or indeed, whether a burden they drag along because they can't do away with it or one they love and nurture. If a desert is lost, the desert doesn't grieve. It knows not loss or gain. It is the soul of the one it belongs to that does - whether the cause of that grief is the disdain it is treated with by that very soul or simply it's weight. Perhaps, just maybe, it isn't the desert that calls. Perhaps, it's the soul that's calling out to nurture its ill-forgotten desert home. And, perhaps, that soul, in light of the strange idea of extreme, easy boredom laced with means to ignore it so easily, has been relegated to a place in men and women where it is to be least heard. But, alas, you can't shut down the cries of somethings, more so a cry so pure and true, that it scream out anyway. We can shut it down with those strange ideas that we were sold, rather those that we buy so easily, which come from Only God Knows Where - but not for long.

Yet, since those cries are always sounding, and their truths are haunting us, when this silly idea of escapism and escapism from boredom intertwined gives a little leeway, we can hear them, listen to them and heed them. We can see the reason in them, and the joy in them. No matter how far we have gone succumbing to the boredom of excess, we can still always return to our home desert, water it from the bottom up and let it blossom. We can always turn around, at any point, and discover of nurturing that plant, and the many others, with way, way more effort that it takes to constantly escape from boredom, and produce the joy that a truly happy life brings. Beat boredom, and the falsely over-stimulative habit it taught us to live by, by a million yards or so, at least. The jar of brownie points that it will fill and what it's worth, with all the validation from the world that comes with them, won't have any value when you go to bed at night. Then, it's you and your desert or own blossoming green pasture. All else, all that's happy, will follow.