3.2.10

I've spent a lot of time trying to match up the things that I feel with the way that I live my life. There was an initial period of trying to understand the way that I felt, and why I felt the things that I did. This lasted probably through my adolescence, and in my adolescence it became the most difficult to reconcile with the world around me. It was during adolescence that I, like most people, learned about injustice, and the lack of immediate gratification, and the necessity of at certain points learning to let things go. One of the hardest things to learn was that the act of letting something go was not an act of betrayal toward the self, but rather an act of honor and respect for the self. In addition, I found that it was an act of respect for the thing that was let go. There's a certain point where one has to realize that the beauty of the world lies largely in its chaotic nature. The inability of one person to see what will happen in his or her life, and the inability to control that future, is easily seen as a cage inside of which the individual is bound. From a different point of view, it is a kind of adventure that is better than that with a self-prescribed itinerary, because the things presented to the self when control is relinquished are things that the individual wouldn't have chosen on his or her own. Because of this simple quality that these things have in common - the quality of being unexpected and unanticipated - they are exciting, and incredible, and capable of inducing awe. It's difficult to be awestruck by anything that is anticipated, so it seems that the best way to admit awe into one's life is to be open to things beyond one's control.

I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to wield my feelings, and how to wield them gracefully. I've come to the conclusion as of late that perhaps the best way to wield emotions is with absolute, shameless honesty. By this, I don't mean that they should be blown out of proportion, or played up, or wielded with the intent of gaining or manipulating. Instead, I mean that they should be held as precious simply because they are one's own, and because they are indicative of an honesty held with one's own self. They should be held as absolutely sacred because they are birthed out of real experiences, and interactions with real people, and because they exist as a direct result of the way that one's mind interacts not only with the world around it but with the heart, too. Where I was unable to find any sense of peace in downplaying or undermining the things that I felt because of a fear concerning how they would be received, I find one of the only comforts I've ever felt in accepting them as they are, and presenting them as they are, because each instance of this kind of behavior - an honest kind, that holds in high esteem the emotions and priorities of the self - reinforces the feeling of being alive in a completely sincere and vulnerable way. It's good to be vulnerable if the vulnerability is presented with absolute honesty and confidence, because it then embodies a kind of power instead of a weakness. No one can know what an individual truly feels, so if that individual presents something other than that which is real and sincere, the individual will feel out of place, not because he or she is misunderstood, but because he or she is out of touch with the self. The mind and heart may communicate clearly, but the mind and the individual's actions may exist in opposition to one another; or the mind and heart may disagree. The mind and heart may fail to even consult one-another, or the mind and the individual's actions may entirely contradict each other. The best way to enable a smooth travel from heart to mind and back to heart, or heart to mind to action, is to allow for each communication between each of these to be entirely honest, and open. Regardless of the seemingly stupid nature of any action that may be taken, it can be an utterly holy action so long as it comes from a place of honesty. And, because being honest with oneself can in itself be difficult, allowing for contradiction between past and present is another kind of honesty, and one that makes way for change and growth.

There's not enough time to silence the heart, and there's not enough time to be concerned with how things might be misinterpreted. The guarantee is this: if what is said is anything other than what is truly felt, misinterpretation is not only possible but absolutely present; and, worse, it is a misinterpretation not only held by others but also held by the self. It's hard enough, God knows, to understand oneself. Why make it harder for others to understand you, too?

Here's what I conclude: Seek to understand the self, of course, but don't hesitate to act in a situation that requires courage or strength. We remember this as children, but we somehow forget it as we get older. Could it be, then, that the act of maturing and growing is the act of remembering why we were right all along as children when we smiled at strangers, or hugged someone when we wanted to, or cried when we wanted to? Could it be that the act of growing up is nothing but learning to be a child again in all of the right ways, but now equipped with the emotional and mental maturity that it takes to truly appreciate what it is to be childlike? Maybe we force that emotional honesty out of our systems and, if we are lucky, we learn that it is absolutely imperative that we reestablish this. It is when we encounter things that we truly care about, and things that we can't risk being dishonest with, that we remember the reasons for being straightforward; and the strange thing is that, in being straightforward in these situations, we must take action, and through taking action we risk a change. Sometimes this change can mean losing that very thing that we hold dear - the very thing that made us aware of this need for emotional integrity. But, again, the guarantee is this: If we do nothing when we want to do something, we will absolutely lose that thing, not because of a sudden change, but because of a gradual loss caused by a lack of respect all around: respect for the self, and respect for other individuals' selves. If any one person loses someone or something simply by token of their being honest toward that person or that situation, then that thing was not nearly as precious as they initially perceived it to be. The most precious things in the world are not necessarily the easiest, but the ones that risk losing someone or something for the sake of letting that person or situation view their inner self and true feelings more clearly. The greatest gift I would ever want to give somebody would be a situation of trust, and this is the same gift that we should give ourselves. In trusting ourselves, we let ourselves trust others, and vice versa. Honesty - the shameless, brutal honesty of frolicking in the muck of life and love and risk and fear - may not be the quickest route toward comfortability, but it seems to be one of the surest routes toward feeling understood by the world, and understanding the world in turn. Maybe if we can all learn to do this, we can learn to feel at home wherever we go. What is home, after all, but a place where you are free to be understood, not just as you would like to be but as you are? I'd rather be understood as the absolute honest mess that each of us can be sometimes than as a composed shell of a human being, lacking in passion for the world around me. There's a lot in this world that warrants my love and my enthusiasm and my awe and my passion, and not only would I regret not experiencing those things in a way that lets me feel those things - I'd also regret not letting those things and people in the world know just how inspiring they are to me. It's selfish of me to fail to inform the world of the incredible extent to which it is capable of blowing my mind. From here on out, if something floors me more than I thought I was capable of being floored, I'll damn well let it know. If all this does is terrify it, then at least it will know more about itself by way of understanding its place as an influencing factor in the world and in the lives of others.

Frolic in the muck, I say, because we only get one chance to experience muck of any caliber at all. I don't know about everyone else, but I have an inkling that most people would agree that they would like to be around for their lives, no matter how awful or embarrassing the events in those lives may be. Sometimes you can't look at the ground closely unless you trip and fall flat on your face, and if you don't look at things closely you might miss something. I think it's important to give things the attention they warrant when they are interesting, and to be open to the possibility of failing and falling and embarrassing oneself, because that's just what life sometime entails, and it'll only make the good things better because we will know that we got there by way of unabashedly opening our hearts to the possibility of their occurrence. There's no reason to be afraid of truly living, in an honest way; and most of the time it seems that life is more painful when it is pain that we are most concerned with and worried about. Life is more painful when one exists in a strange interim, in which things are felt but not expressed, than it is when everything that is trusted and true is expressed - even if this sometimes results in loss or hurt or chaos. Better to have the bad kind of chaos along with the good kind of chaos than no chaos whatsoever. I'm excited to live and to learn every year how to better understand the things that I feel and act upon them in a way that pays tribute to how much they mean to me. One of these days I am going to say something and look back the next day only to realize that I had truly meant it, and had truly expressed it too; and although I'm sure this has happened before, I hope that it will continue to happen, and more frequently. I never fail to be amazed by the world around me, but I think I sometimes fail to articulate what this world means to me, or I fail to trust the things that most strike awe into my heart. Sometimes they are the same things that paralyze me with fear, but what I'm coming to realize is that the presence of fear is often a surefire indicator of deep care or feeling or love, and this is what it means to be alive. What we should really be afraid of is squelching those feelings because of that fear. When I feel fear in the future, I'd like to pay even more honest respect to whatever it is that caused that fear, because it'll surely be something of magnitude if it can cause me to tremble in my boots to that extent. I don't think fear will ever go away, because we will never stop caring. Fear is maybe an awareness of a risk, which is indicative of the extent to which something is meaningful to me. I never want to stop caring, so i say bring on the fear. Fear reminds me what I care about, and should never be a signal to undermine those things that I care about when I talk about them. If anything, fear should remind me to speak of those things with greater respect: not because they are innately good, or bad, or anything like that, but because they remind me what matters to me, and who matters to me, and why these things matter to me; and they will remind me to appreciate those things and immerse myself in those things and risk my own pride for those things. Pride can recuperate, and it is mostly illusory anyhow, so it's a small price to pay for true experience and a meaningful life.

Also, I think it's fine to stay up all night once in a while just to bask in appreciation, or inspiration. And I think it's okay to say things that come out kind of messy, and to stumble over words, so long as the attempt to be true is there. If the intent is there, and if one starts a sentence enough times, eventually some semblance of the truth will be understood. That's all we can ask for, and sometimes it takes years' worth of mangled sentences to get to that point. So, I guess, we should start talking and mangling sentences now so that we might be better understood sooner. We don't want to miss out on understanding and connection, because it is these which remind us of what is most beautiful in the world, and in our selves.

Even if things aren't always pleasant, they can be always interesting, and interestingness seems to be hugely underrated. Magic, unexplained or circumstantial, isn't going to find you if you don't give it a chance. If something means something to you, let it know - don't take to heel. Awesomeness abounds.