I've moved my blog to WP: idefiningi.wordpress.com
Showing posts with label goals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label goals. Show all posts
January 1, 2016
solution (n.)
[Originally published on my Life Actually blog, one day into 2016, GMT.]
In some ways, it doesn’t feel like the end of a year. One part of it may be because I feel like I cut a new chapter in November and so it doesn’t quite feel like something new is beginning.
Some part of it may have to do with the fact that despite all my efforts, I got sick on Dec 31st thanks to a string of big nights out (I’m talkin’ 10am returns home) around Christmas. I wound up mostly staying in (at least by the city’s standards), having the mellowest NYE to date. I woke up with a sore throat and wound up on the couch at my roomie Tara’s parents place, reading and drinking mulled wine under the Christmas lights, then falling asleep for three hours to the sounds of Ben Hur on the TV. I eventually made it home with Tara where we continued with the lounging and lemon tea drinking, and after a short ringing in of the new year with my dad and his friends down the road, I walked home, had a bath and went to bed. Somewhat disappointing given that I’m finally living in a city that really knows how to ring in the new year; but at the end of it all, it’s all the same; another arbitrary night in the calendar, marked there to remind us to reflect on a period of time and create some intentions about our future.
I feel I’ve been doing this kind of thing, this reviewing and reflecting, non-stop since I moved here, though, so no hard feelings in retrospect. It’s been an active process for me for the last, dare I say, year - and this is something I want to emphasize as I create my “resolutions” for 2016. And by resolutions, I mean re-solutions.
So much of our life is bound by habit. What we do repeatedly becomes our life. For this reason, I think the best resolutions we can make are those that make us question the things we do that take up a whole year’s time (and eventually a whole lifetime).
What is the substance of our year that forges our long-term outcomes? How do our repeated ways of behaving/reacting reflect our embedded ways of thinking? It should be about challenging ourselves to leave particular patterns behind so we can reinvent and solve our current discomforts, problems or tribulations.
Diminishing our philosophy of life to a “list of resolutions” is amiss; it’s an active evolution not a line-up of dead-end intents and attempts (and eventual surrenderings).
In light of this, I’m looking at last year’s resolutions to see what I can take from them, regardless of their ‘status’ or ‘expiry.’
(Of course there are 10.)
1. Travel to 5 new places. I realize now you can see new places every day without going anywhere. Really. (For example, even after 20 years of living there, I saw Vancouver for the first time this year in many ways.)
2. Get more of my work published. I realized all I really wanted was to write freely, maybe move someone with my words - even if it was just me.
3. Move to a new city to bring visible changes in my life. I realize now it wasn’t so much about learning to adapt to a new place as it was about seeing what parts of me wouldn’t change.
4. Keep running to stay healthy and fit. I’ve learned that fitness is not an end in and of itself, but rather a byproduct of and catalyst for emotional wellbeing. Excercise helps me stabilize my thoughts and emotions and I’m getting better at making the sound decision to exercise even when I’m not feeling mentally and/or physically up for it, which is a challenge.
5. Keep a gratitude journal - and I did. But I learned that showing gratitude is more essential.
6. Take professional development courses. I learned that you need to apply new knowledge to actually learn it though. One way I did this, when lacking the option at work, was by teaching it to others.
7. Save $7,000. This as an arbitrary number, but as far as arbitrary savings goals are concerned, any number is better than zero. You never know when you may need to cash in; what important time it’ll buy you later; what act of desperation it’ll quell, what peace it will give you (unfortunately, but realistically) that will help you make the better decision.
8. Read a minimum of 12 books. In the last six months, I’ve read only half of two. And these have made more difference than a fat pile of top 100 listers. (Infinite Jest, A Guide to the Good Life)
9. Get closer and more deeply connected to my parents and my closest friends. In the process, I made friends out of my parents, I fell in love with a friend, and I certain friends became like family.
10. Do something out of my comfort zone. I chose bellydancing, which culminated in a performance in front of 350 people. Suffice to say, trying something out of your comfort zone doesn’t bring it into your comfort zone. It just makes you see how well you handle discomfort.
For the first time, my new years resolutions aren’t top-of-mind or clear to me. Perhaps it’s because the plates have shifted so much below my state of being with this move to London that everything feels like a new habit to be formed. I am reconfiguring a lot of myself this year…so in a year’s time, all I ask of myself is that I do this mindfully, gently, thoughtfully. That’s all; and it’s a whole lot.
In some ways, it doesn’t feel like the end of a year. One part of it may be because I feel like I cut a new chapter in November and so it doesn’t quite feel like something new is beginning.
Some part of it may have to do with the fact that despite all my efforts, I got sick on Dec 31st thanks to a string of big nights out (I’m talkin’ 10am returns home) around Christmas. I wound up mostly staying in (at least by the city’s standards), having the mellowest NYE to date. I woke up with a sore throat and wound up on the couch at my roomie Tara’s parents place, reading and drinking mulled wine under the Christmas lights, then falling asleep for three hours to the sounds of Ben Hur on the TV. I eventually made it home with Tara where we continued with the lounging and lemon tea drinking, and after a short ringing in of the new year with my dad and his friends down the road, I walked home, had a bath and went to bed. Somewhat disappointing given that I’m finally living in a city that really knows how to ring in the new year; but at the end of it all, it’s all the same; another arbitrary night in the calendar, marked there to remind us to reflect on a period of time and create some intentions about our future.
I feel I’ve been doing this kind of thing, this reviewing and reflecting, non-stop since I moved here, though, so no hard feelings in retrospect. It’s been an active process for me for the last, dare I say, year - and this is something I want to emphasize as I create my “resolutions” for 2016. And by resolutions, I mean re-solutions.
solution (n.) from solvere "to loosen, dissolve; untie, release, detach; depart; unlock; scatter; explain; dismiss; accomplish; remove,“ from PIE *se-lu-, "to loosen, divide, cut apart” (see lose).
So much of our life is bound by habit. What we do repeatedly becomes our life. For this reason, I think the best resolutions we can make are those that make us question the things we do that take up a whole year’s time (and eventually a whole lifetime).
What is the substance of our year that forges our long-term outcomes? How do our repeated ways of behaving/reacting reflect our embedded ways of thinking? It should be about challenging ourselves to leave particular patterns behind so we can reinvent and solve our current discomforts, problems or tribulations.
“We’re creatures of habit and we’ll get used to anything. I want to make sure I get used to the right things in this life. And however fast or slow it moves, one day, we’ll all eventually agree that it went by too fast. [Year by year, day by day, but really, all gone in a single blink.]” - me, 2 months ago
 |
| The years melt into each other... |
Diminishing our philosophy of life to a “list of resolutions” is amiss; it’s an active evolution not a line-up of dead-end intents and attempts (and eventual surrenderings).
In light of this, I’m looking at last year’s resolutions to see what I can take from them, regardless of their ‘status’ or ‘expiry.’
(Of course there are 10.)
1. Travel to 5 new places. I realize now you can see new places every day without going anywhere. Really. (For example, even after 20 years of living there, I saw Vancouver for the first time this year in many ways.)
2. Get more of my work published. I realized all I really wanted was to write freely, maybe move someone with my words - even if it was just me.
3. Move to a new city to bring visible changes in my life. I realize now it wasn’t so much about learning to adapt to a new place as it was about seeing what parts of me wouldn’t change.
4. Keep running to stay healthy and fit. I’ve learned that fitness is not an end in and of itself, but rather a byproduct of and catalyst for emotional wellbeing. Excercise helps me stabilize my thoughts and emotions and I’m getting better at making the sound decision to exercise even when I’m not feeling mentally and/or physically up for it, which is a challenge.
5. Keep a gratitude journal - and I did. But I learned that showing gratitude is more essential.
6. Take professional development courses. I learned that you need to apply new knowledge to actually learn it though. One way I did this, when lacking the option at work, was by teaching it to others.
7. Save $7,000. This as an arbitrary number, but as far as arbitrary savings goals are concerned, any number is better than zero. You never know when you may need to cash in; what important time it’ll buy you later; what act of desperation it’ll quell, what peace it will give you (unfortunately, but realistically) that will help you make the better decision.
8. Read a minimum of 12 books. In the last six months, I’ve read only half of two. And these have made more difference than a fat pile of top 100 listers. (Infinite Jest, A Guide to the Good Life)
9. Get closer and more deeply connected to my parents and my closest friends. In the process, I made friends out of my parents, I fell in love with a friend, and I certain friends became like family.
10. Do something out of my comfort zone. I chose bellydancing, which culminated in a performance in front of 350 people. Suffice to say, trying something out of your comfort zone doesn’t bring it into your comfort zone. It just makes you see how well you handle discomfort.
For the first time, my new years resolutions aren’t top-of-mind or clear to me. Perhaps it’s because the plates have shifted so much below my state of being with this move to London that everything feels like a new habit to be formed. I am reconfiguring a lot of myself this year…so in a year’s time, all I ask of myself is that I do this mindfully, gently, thoughtfully. That’s all; and it’s a whole lot.
December 3, 2015
pause (v.)
[Disclaimer: Not for the faint of heart. This one's really all over the place...]
If I’ve learned anything from not working for a month (for the first time in five years....) is that time moves much more slowly when unemployed - and that working, whether you love it or not, speeds things up. The fact that it took me a pause from work, the not doing of anything to ponder what exactly it is that I am doing, made me look this one up. Interestingly enough, the verb itself "to pause" came from the noun:
People everywhere complain a lot about work - particularly those working in environments and structures they don’t agree with. Walking through the financial core of London the other day made me reflect on some tragedy of the human condition - our urge to climb, to have, to get elsewhere only to find that ‘the top of the world’ isn’t really the top. It may be more about depth, I think.
The only way to combat the pity I feel for those who overwork themselves, often to the detriment of their health (we hear the Wall Street stories and suicide rates in corporate climbing...) is to think their work is their choice. But I do also wonder how voluntary it is. From afar, it may appear like a glass cage, a cubicle trap; but from the inside, you adapt. We are creatures of habit after all. And creatures of survival.
These characteristics coupled can quickly turn one small decision into a big life change. Days turn into long hard hours, which can quickly turn into a long hard life. And the way to keep that from happening is gaping things open a bit and becoming more reflective - pausing, even if for a moment, to become more mindful.
Judging from conversations with new friends here when speaking about their work and office cultures, I wonder about that; I wonder how many people reflect on what they are spending their long hours (or any hours) doing and what it’s all really for; what it’s really worth. Do all the rules make sense (must a lunch hour be only between 12-1?…How much do grandfathered-in policies actually improve productivity? What is my paycheque going towards? - and I won’t get into politics of where our taxes go here.)
Do we pose the questions necessary to derive meaning from the things we think we want and have to work for? Or do we avoid it because we fear it will unravel the puzzle and start asking us about our needs?
(I'm making assumptions here and know I come from a place of privilege; it's a luxury in a way to be able to pause and appreciate one's work relative to the rest of the world. Not all work can be a easily enjoyed, but I do think it can be done with integrity and this increases its value and one's appreciation of it.)
For those of us in the same corner from which I speak, those of us privileged with opportunity and more choices than most, why do many of us still complain?
Don’t be mistaken in thinking I have qualms about working hard. Contributing to the activity of culture and society is important in our self-establishment in the world. Work is a remedy to the symptoms of the alternative, (like existential nihilism (!) or chaos, which isn’t sustainable on an individual or a social level).
And don’t get me wrong; long hours can be good; and there’s nothing wrong with dedicating your entire life to work either. So long as you reflect on it and do make it a conscious choice. Without that I think it’s hard to derive enoughhappine joy from work. It may also give you the impetus to, at the very least, complain less and be a more positive energy in the world - and make other people’s work better. To all those who complain about their work without seeing what else it makes possible for them, to those in positions of power who ignore the potential for positive change in their office cultures to make them more...dare I say, human, and to those who just mindlessly don’t care much....I urge you to be more mindful about it.
And for those who do think and work mindfully and ask the tough questions, is the answer you come up with something you can truly live with? Can it stand the true test of time, all those long hours...and the many more that await us?
(yah this post is so nutty that I even have a poem)
We are all trapped by whatever life we live - this is a reality;
Whether we be bankers or bonkers
or hipsters or hippies
or immigrants or ignorants,
Madonnas or Marys,
or teachers or preachers or any kind of creatures….
We are all puzzle pieces, I think.
In order to fit in, each of us must conjoin with the other puzzle pieces around to form a picture, a whole, something that makes sense from some wider perspective.
Are you doing that? I don’t mean, fitting in; we all do that; I mean actually looking at what it is that you are creating when finding your trap and living in it?
If I’ve learned anything from not working for a month (for the first time in five years....) is that time moves much more slowly when unemployed - and that working, whether you love it or not, speeds things up. The fact that it took me a pause from work, the not doing of anything to ponder what exactly it is that I am doing, made me look this one up. Interestingly enough, the verb itself "to pause" came from the noun:
pause (v.) mid-15c., from pause (n.) and from Middle French pauser, from Late Latin pausare "to halt, cease, pause," ultimately from Late Latin pausa.The experience of a hiatus encourages reflection and inspired in me more effort to continue pausing and reflecting, even while incredibly busied with adapting to a new life here in London.
hiatus (n.) 1560s, "break or opening" in a material object, from Latin hiare, "to gape, stand open," from PIE root *ghai- "to yawn, gape. "Sense of "gap or interruption in events, etc."All of this thinking has come at a time when I spend quite a bit of time talking to people here about their work. While I'm navigating my job search and making contacts, I'm balancing it with enjoying the time I have to not have to be anywhere; but I know that finding work is essential, and on more days than you'd think, I envy those who have somewhere to be (especially with work Christmas party season on the horizon). But, I also hear many Londoners complain about “working long hours” a lot. On this subject, I’ll wax poetic for a bit. (Oh yes, I am in a position to speak about employment in a city I just moved to and am not working in yet...)
People everywhere complain a lot about work - particularly those working in environments and structures they don’t agree with. Walking through the financial core of London the other day made me reflect on some tragedy of the human condition - our urge to climb, to have, to get elsewhere only to find that ‘the top of the world’ isn’t really the top. It may be more about depth, I think.
The only way to combat the pity I feel for those who overwork themselves, often to the detriment of their health (we hear the Wall Street stories and suicide rates in corporate climbing...) is to think their work is their choice. But I do also wonder how voluntary it is. From afar, it may appear like a glass cage, a cubicle trap; but from the inside, you adapt. We are creatures of habit after all. And creatures of survival.
These characteristics coupled can quickly turn one small decision into a big life change. Days turn into long hard hours, which can quickly turn into a long hard life. And the way to keep that from happening is gaping things open a bit and becoming more reflective - pausing, even if for a moment, to become more mindful.
Judging from conversations with new friends here when speaking about their work and office cultures, I wonder about that; I wonder how many people reflect on what they are spending their long hours (or any hours) doing and what it’s all really for; what it’s really worth. Do all the rules make sense (must a lunch hour be only between 12-1?…How much do grandfathered-in policies actually improve productivity? What is my paycheque going towards? - and I won’t get into politics of where our taxes go here.)Do we pose the questions necessary to derive meaning from the things we think we want and have to work for? Or do we avoid it because we fear it will unravel the puzzle and start asking us about our needs?
puzzle (v.) 1590s, pusle "bewilder, confound," possibly frequentative of pose (v.) from Old French poser "put, place, propose," a term in debating, from Late Latin pausare "to halt, rest, cease, pause."I am no expert in the psychology of the workplace, but I have read research on how happiness is the ultimate motivator. The bottom line is that happiness boost the bottom line, which regardless of how we actually feel about the systems in place, if we can find joy in our work somehow, it's a win-win for everyone.
(I'm making assumptions here and know I come from a place of privilege; it's a luxury in a way to be able to pause and appreciate one's work relative to the rest of the world. Not all work can be a easily enjoyed, but I do think it can be done with integrity and this increases its value and one's appreciation of it.)
For those of us in the same corner from which I speak, those of us privileged with opportunity and more choices than most, why do many of us still complain?
Don’t be mistaken in thinking I have qualms about working hard. Contributing to the activity of culture and society is important in our self-establishment in the world. Work is a remedy to the symptoms of the alternative, (like existential nihilism (!) or chaos, which isn’t sustainable on an individual or a social level).
chaos (n.) late 14c., "gaping void," from Greek khaos "abyss, that which gapes wide open, is vast and empty," from *khnwos, from PIE root *gheu- "to gape, yawn."And it’s not just about money. Whatever the work (tending a garden or tending a hedge fund), it is in our pursuit of activity, of experience, of doing more, living more so we don't get bored, and ultimately, of survival - in spirit and body. I think, we forget this all too often.
(Also, meaning "utter confusion" (c. 1600), extended from theological use of chaos for "the void at the beginning of creation" in Vulgate version of Genesis (1530s in English). The Greek for "disorder" was tarakhe, however the use of chaos here was rooted in Hesiod ("Theogony"), who describes khaos as the primeval emptiness of the Universe, and in Ovid ("Metamorphoses"), who opposes Khaos to Kosmos, "the ordered Universe.")
And don’t get me wrong; long hours can be good; and there’s nothing wrong with dedicating your entire life to work either. So long as you reflect on it and do make it a conscious choice. Without that I think it’s hard to derive enough
And for those who do think and work mindfully and ask the tough questions, is the answer you come up with something you can truly live with? Can it stand the true test of time, all those long hours...and the many more that await us?
(yah this post is so nutty that I even have a poem)
We are all trapped by whatever life we live - this is a reality;
Whether we be bankers or bonkers
or hipsters or hippies
or immigrants or ignorants,
Madonnas or Marys,
or teachers or preachers or any kind of creatures….
We are all puzzle pieces, I think.
In order to fit in, each of us must conjoin with the other puzzle pieces around to form a picture, a whole, something that makes sense from some wider perspective.
Are you doing that? I don’t mean, fitting in; we all do that; I mean actually looking at what it is that you are creating when finding your trap and living in it?
trap (n.) "contrivance for catching unawares"It doesn’t matter what it is; it can be any box, but don’t get caught up in someone else’s wrapping and bows, otherwise you may find your long hours will wrap up quick and you’ll bow down to your own mortality with a buyer’s remorse; regret. A puzzling picture of what your life became instead of what you made it be but taking the time to....pause and reflect and become more aware.
October 3, 2015
step (v., n.)
Today, I signed my last rent cheque and just like that another milestone passed and I am one step closer to London.
Thinking about this on my way to work made me recall a chapter from DFW’s Infinite Jest. Near-death-turned-desperate long-time addict Don Gately learns that to arrive at a goal - like sobriety - only requires simple steps and training the mind to continue, to follow through. To take hold of something when you feel there's little to go on.
In the book, a fellow Ennet Recovery House resident offers Gately an analogy to help him deal with his doubt that prayer and AA-crafted internal dialogue will help him eventually drop the poison. The analogy? A Betty Crocker instant-cake mix. You follow the instructions and though you don’t really know the intricate details and chemistry of how the ingredients wind up turning into a cake in the end, you follow the instructions on the side of the box and can count on the fact that you’ll wind up with an edible cake as the end result.
You don’t necessarily have to have faith nor trust in that the steps will actually lead you to that ideal result, your dreamed-up destination or situation; all you have to do is start and follow the steps thoroughly, until one day you wake up sober, relaxed, and wondering how you ever doubted the process in the first place.
The last week has been a bit of a blur for me, as I’ve been mostly dealing with the logistics of moving - the paperwork. I handed in my resignation at work with a pretty heavy heart; I signed a sublet agreement with my friend Sam that marked a new chapter for the both of us; and yes, of course, I handed over that final October rent cheque.
I realize from the very start of all this back in August, when I made my decision to move away, it’s been mostly an act of going through the motions. Namely, getting through paperwork and rewiring my brain to spin this into an adventure rather than an ordeal; a continuation of a journey rather than a departure.
My heart hasn’t always been in every step, but I go through with each one anyway, one at a time, because I know if I proceed and tick the to-do boxes despite my emotional setbacks, I’ll eventually board that plane. I'll eventually wake up in London eating cake and feeling pretty okay about the whole thing....right?
Only one way to find out, I guess... Onto the next step...
+This cheesy over-used thing that you've probably been thinking about all along and which gets to the brunt of what I'm trying to articulate in far fewer steps...(ha!)
Thinking about this on my way to work made me recall a chapter from DFW’s Infinite Jest. Near-death-turned-desperate long-time addict Don Gately learns that to arrive at a goal - like sobriety - only requires simple steps and training the mind to continue, to follow through. To take hold of something when you feel there's little to go on.
step (v.) Old English steppan (Anglian), stæppan (West Saxon) "take a step," from West Germanic *stap- "tread', from PIE root *stebh- "post, stem; to support, place firmly on". The notion is perhaps "a treading firmly on; a foothold." Figurative meaning "action which leads toward a result" is recorded from 1540s.
In the book, a fellow Ennet Recovery House resident offers Gately an analogy to help him deal with his doubt that prayer and AA-crafted internal dialogue will help him eventually drop the poison. The analogy? A Betty Crocker instant-cake mix. You follow the instructions and though you don’t really know the intricate details and chemistry of how the ingredients wind up turning into a cake in the end, you follow the instructions on the side of the box and can count on the fact that you’ll wind up with an edible cake as the end result.
ingredient (n.) early 15c., from Latin ingredientem "that which enters into" (a compound, recipe, etc.), p.p. of ingredi "go in, enter," from in- + gradi "to step, go."
You don’t necessarily have to have faith nor trust in that the steps will actually lead you to that ideal result, your dreamed-up destination or situation; all you have to do is start and follow the steps thoroughly, until one day you wake up sober, relaxed, and wondering how you ever doubted the process in the first place.
The last week has been a bit of a blur for me, as I’ve been mostly dealing with the logistics of moving - the paperwork. I handed in my resignation at work with a pretty heavy heart; I signed a sublet agreement with my friend Sam that marked a new chapter for the both of us; and yes, of course, I handed over that final October rent cheque.
 |
| Paper: One of the many ingredients of life. |
I realize from the very start of all this back in August, when I made my decision to move away, it’s been mostly an act of going through the motions. Namely, getting through paperwork and rewiring my brain to spin this into an adventure rather than an ordeal; a continuation of a journey rather than a departure.
My heart hasn’t always been in every step, but I go through with each one anyway, one at a time, because I know if I proceed and tick the to-do boxes despite my emotional setbacks, I’ll eventually board that plane. I'll eventually wake up in London eating cake and feeling pretty okay about the whole thing....right?
Only one way to find out, I guess... Onto the next step...
+This cheesy over-used thing that you've probably been thinking about all along and which gets to the brunt of what I'm trying to articulate in far fewer steps...(ha!)
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."
- Lao Tzu
September 20, 2015
dream (v.)
I came across a piece of writing today and it articulated a feeling that for some time I couldn't quite find the words to describe - until now. It pinpoints the feeling I initially had when I ended a long-term relationship a couple of years ago:
Sometimes you mourn the fact that you never got to dream together at all. No specific plans for the future, no particular defined commitments, no hard realities that come from dealing with what's to come in that unknown future because you haven't given yourself/yourselves permission, and are riddled with the weight of a future in which you are alone, without them.
It's a strange thing being aware that as you grow with a person you're also nearing a specific end date; that with each gain and step closer towards them, you're simultaneously also getting closer to leaving them. (This is something I've known far too well ever since I booked my flight a couple of days ago).
Sometimes, there's an end date that forces you to be in the present much more than is usual; this is because the only future together you have is one where, well, you're not together, (so thinking about it makes it somewhat..oxymoronic, gut-wretchingly cataclysmic). Though all relationships are destined to end with the inevitability of passing time, this mindfulness and focus on the now is quite contrary to how many of us lead (or want to lead) romantic relationships: with delusional dreams of romantic "Forevers." Dreams that keep people together through the nightmares of life; ludicrous, irrational, but a tempting play to be a part of, nonetheless.
Or maybe, it's like experiencing a storm (this resonates right now given the windstorm that just hit BC). There's something very temporary running through but you also know that once it's passed, it will leave permanent marks. Stuff gets uprooted, truths fly more freely, the present experience envelops you, maybe makes you fly, too, (or just whirls you about and makes you fall...hard). But you get up and temper the storm by seeing it for its beauty; you enjoy the little lulls between the gusts so that you don't go reeling; you try to float for a bit unperturbed and remind yourself when reality hits that there's always something to be weathered, accepted, learned, and try to pull lessons from the hard realities.
When you're aware that things are finite, your appreciation grows, too. In the realm of relationships, you restrain your ego and its selfish proclivities; you stop risking miscommunications and wasted efforts that come from vain silences and ambiguous texts, the playing of games and the overthinking. You ask. You tell. You cut to the heart of things with less fear so as not to not waste time - because with all things acutely finite, time is of the essence.
It'd be great if we could apply this sense of urgency more readily in life, no? To wake to the fact that all our experiences are singular, unique, first and last, all finite, temporary, being weathered by time... all the time.
Undoubtedly, we'll all wake up and it'll be time to leave. For some things in life, the departure date is more certain; for others, it's just waiting far off in the hazy distance. Before then, (because it's always when not if,) rather than completely delude ourselves with dreams of distant uncertain futures and forevers, why not try and better acquaint ourselves with what is at our fingertips and appreciate the dream that's already happening here and now...?
I fear waking up of course out of fear that he won't be there. But what if he is and we can dream together, if not into distant dreamy futures, just one day.. one more moment at a time?
"One of the difficulties of leaving a relationship is not so much, at the end, leaving the person themselves — because, by that time, you’re ready to go; what’s difficult is leaving the dreams that you shared together. And you know that somehow — no matter who you meet in your life in the future, and no matter what species of happiness you would share with them — you will never, ever share those particular dreams again, with that particular tonality and coloration. And so there’s a lovely and powerful form of grief there that is the ultimate of giving away but making space for another form of reimagination." - David Whyte, "The Journey"And now, amidst a time when I am slowly preparing to leave Vancouver for a re-imagining of my own if you will - it's also helped me articulate a feeling I've been having more recently:
Sometimes you mourn the fact that you never got to dream together at all. No specific plans for the future, no particular defined commitments, no hard realities that come from dealing with what's to come in that unknown future because you haven't given yourself/yourselves permission, and are riddled with the weight of a future in which you are alone, without them.
It's a strange thing being aware that as you grow with a person you're also nearing a specific end date; that with each gain and step closer towards them, you're simultaneously also getting closer to leaving them. (This is something I've known far too well ever since I booked my flight a couple of days ago).
Sometimes, there's an end date that forces you to be in the present much more than is usual; this is because the only future together you have is one where, well, you're not together, (so thinking about it makes it somewhat..oxymoronic, gut-wretchingly cataclysmic). Though all relationships are destined to end with the inevitability of passing time, this mindfulness and focus on the now is quite contrary to how many of us lead (or want to lead) romantic relationships: with delusional dreams of romantic "Forevers." Dreams that keep people together through the nightmares of life; ludicrous, irrational, but a tempting play to be a part of, nonetheless.
dream (n.) Old Frisian dram, Dutch droom, German traum, perhaps from German cognate trügen "to delude," from de- "down" + ludere "to play" (see Latin ludicrus, "a game, play")It's an uncanny feeling this inevitable loss - however close or far in the future - but once you embrace it, it can also make things all the more wonderful. You actually liberate the relationship from the delusion of infinite time by being more concerned with what happens now. And the less time there is, the more tempting this becomes - mostly because it's the only way to operate and continue enjoying each other's company. You live in the moment and take all there is (and all there ever is is what's there right now). Some would call it denial or avoidance. But I say, it's closer to living in a dream.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
- Shakespeare, The Tempest
Or maybe, it's like experiencing a storm (this resonates right now given the windstorm that just hit BC). There's something very temporary running through but you also know that once it's passed, it will leave permanent marks. Stuff gets uprooted, truths fly more freely, the present experience envelops you, maybe makes you fly, too, (or just whirls you about and makes you fall...hard). But you get up and temper the storm by seeing it for its beauty; you enjoy the little lulls between the gusts so that you don't go reeling; you try to float for a bit unperturbed and remind yourself when reality hits that there's always something to be weathered, accepted, learned, and try to pull lessons from the hard realities.
temper (n.) Old English temprian ‘bring something into the required condition by mixing it with something else,’ from Latin temperare ‘mingle, restrain oneself.’ Sense development was probably influenced by Old French temprer ‘to temper, moderate.’
When you're aware that things are finite, your appreciation grows, too. In the realm of relationships, you restrain your ego and its selfish proclivities; you stop risking miscommunications and wasted efforts that come from vain silences and ambiguous texts, the playing of games and the overthinking. You ask. You tell. You cut to the heart of things with less fear so as not to not waste time - because with all things acutely finite, time is of the essence.
It'd be great if we could apply this sense of urgency more readily in life, no? To wake to the fact that all our experiences are singular, unique, first and last, all finite, temporary, being weathered by time... all the time.
tempest (n.) from Old French tempeste, from Latin tempestas and tempus ‘season, weather, storm,' (see temporal, "temporary"). Sense evolution is from "period of time" to "period of weather," to "bad weather" to "storm." Words for "weather" originally were words for "time" in languages from Russia to Brittany.
Undoubtedly, we'll all wake up and it'll be time to leave. For some things in life, the departure date is more certain; for others, it's just waiting far off in the hazy distance. Before then, (because it's always when not if,) rather than completely delude ourselves with dreams of distant uncertain futures and forevers, why not try and better acquaint ourselves with what is at our fingertips and appreciate the dream that's already happening here and now...?
I fear waking up of course out of fear that he won't be there. But what if he is and we can dream together, if not into distant dreamy futures, just one day.. one more moment at a time?
July 30, 2015
decide (v.)
Decisions decisions.
But really, in the imperative. Do it. Decide.
We fear making a move for fear of finding out that our move "forward" only brought us back to where we started. But, you're never really where you started. If we don't move at all, well, we will have not moved anywhere. Wherever we go, at least we may have done a little skip and a hop, or a dance, or a stumble or a puddle dive in the process. More interesting than just standing around, right? And the worse case scenario is you're left with a few scars from the many little cut offs you made as you carve yourself into the best version of yourself.
It's an inner struggle but once you get there it's a feeling of relief. A ridding of something - sometimes that something is more like a tumor, a dead weight; mostly, whether malignant or benign, you're leaving behind what you know to get to know something you don't. Usually it's simply putting familiarity to rest.
Literally speaking, a decision is a"cut off" - A cutting off from the alternatives, from the options you didn't choose; or maybe it's a deadline, one that none other than Time made you slowly broach and forced you to finally settle on something.
decide (v.) late 14c., "to settle a dispute," from Old French decider, from Latin decidere "to decide, determine," literally "to cut off." Sense is of resolving difficulties "at a stroke." Meaning "to make up one's mind" is attested from 1830.
Regardless of what brought it on, if the decision is to feel good, the cleaner the cut the better. A cut from uncertainty requires a bit of don't-look-back mentality. You take the back-and-forth tangly self-doubt and face it head on with some shears. It can be a very intent, meticulous process like an operation or a quick flick of the wrist; or it can be a completely debaucherous, reeling ramshackle of a scene as you throw yourself into decision alley, eyes closed, and take the gutting into your own hands.
Some decisions are a done-deal straight away but you wait to become acquainted with the results; others hit you before you even realized you made the decision in the first place. Some decisions demand endurance to become real, requiring long follow-throughs and follow ups; you have to ensure you've actually done the thing you decided to do, and not just passively prayed it would happen just because you decided it should.
Ultimately, you have to cut to the chase.
Maybe you're tiredly gnawing at the dead weight until it completely falls away; or maybe you just flicked the darn alternative off the table a bit too abruptly and now are left with crumbs of regret. But any way you slice it (sorry getting pun-happy), you have to own the results that domino from your decision - whether you're peacefully observing the waterfall or drowning right in it. You have to let go of the ifs and buts and what-could've-beens.
Ultimately, you have to cut to the chase.
Maybe you're tiredly gnawing at the dead weight until it completely falls away; or maybe you just flicked the darn alternative off the table a bit too abruptly and now are left with crumbs of regret. But any way you slice it (sorry getting pun-happy), you have to own the results that domino from your decision - whether you're peacefully observing the waterfall or drowning right in it. You have to let go of the ifs and buts and what-could've-beens.
The deciding factor may be fuelled by a muddled intuition, but there should be at least some reasoned thought process present to settle your inner dispute. Without it, I think it's hard to rid yourself of the self-doubt that will eventually come later when you start retrospectively dissecting the whole darn thing - because most decisions are hard and what's ahead of the fork takes some time getting used to. You need an honest recognizing that, yes, some degree of risk or uncertainty is tolerable.
We fear making a move for fear of finding out that our move "forward" only brought us back to where we started. But, you're never really where you started. If we don't move at all, well, we will have not moved anywhere. Wherever we go, at least we may have done a little skip and a hop, or a dance, or a stumble or a puddle dive in the process. More interesting than just standing around, right? And the worse case scenario is you're left with a few scars from the many little cut offs you made as you carve yourself into the best version of yourself.
Ideally, reason found reason to give you enough clarity to decide on something that's tearing you in two. And sometimes that's the biggest piece - jerking yourself out of analysis paralysis, (gently if possible), because you realize a clean, thoughtful cut is better than losing your mind until the indecision-making rips you apart anyway.
June 17, 2015
performance (n.)
This past weekend marked two milestones for me:
One involved teaching.
Both involved learning.
Oh, and anxiety.
Did I mention anxiety? (It's one of my strong suits.)
But thankfully, so is coping.
Otherwise, my heart would have palpitated itself to nervousness hell this weekend.
On Saturday, I taught my first full-day workshop on social advertising through SFU Continuing Studies to a class of 29 students. On Sunday, I got on stage under the hot lights of the Rickshaw Theatre and shimmied my way through a group bellydance routine - in front of 300.
These two events had me performing in two very different
capacities; though differently uncomfortable about each, I was still equally uncomfortable about both.
Some say, "preparation is the mother of victory," yet I can't say I was prepared for either one. How could I be? I'd never done either, so in good ol' overthinky-Vish fashion, my imagination got the best of me and took to my nerves, building up worst case scenarios - over and over - until the only thing I could do was try to forget, drink tequila cocktails and pretend it wasn't happening.
Until it was.
Kidding aside, my coping strategy was this: I kept reminding myself that my "performances" weren't so much about how well I ultimately performed, but how much effort I put into performing my best - whatever that was. In the end, we can't all be superstars. But worse than failing according to some normative standard is 1) not trying; and 2) well... not trying.
I'd like to think that any amount of "failure" would be worth it if it meant having no regrets; knowing I tried my best, of course, requires trying it in the first place.
All this got me thinking about courage and what it takes for us to try new things - especially those things that elicit that insurmountable fear made all the greater from the weight of public scrutiny.
For me, having people who support me is a huge part of what gets me started. But my own knowledge of the payoff is what keeps me going - the knowledge that if I put in my best efforts, I have much more to gain regardless of what happens, than my audience has to lose if I fail. This helps to takes the pressure off.
Looking back, both my "performances" turned out pretty well; wait, scratch that - they turned out great. Despite my own hard-on-myself standards, I felt incredibly empowered and proud of myself after the applause came. Whether that was due to the quality of my performance or my knowledge that I faced a fear doesn't matter. I came away feeling great - accomplished.
After a frenzied weekend of much anticipation and stress, my real accomplishment, as many say, was in fact just "showing up." How you define "showing up" is up to you, though I see it as "showing up" after showing up. This is where the real reward comes from.
It's about starting what you started, yes - but then also following through with integrity.
One involved teaching.
Both involved learning.
Oh, and anxiety.
Did I mention anxiety? (It's one of my strong suits.)
But thankfully, so is coping.
Otherwise, my heart would have palpitated itself to nervousness hell this weekend.
On Saturday, I taught my first full-day workshop on social advertising through SFU Continuing Studies to a class of 29 students. On Sunday, I got on stage under the hot lights of the Rickshaw Theatre and shimmied my way through a group bellydance routine - in front of 300.
performance (n.): late 15c., "accomplishment" (of something), from perform + -ance. Meaning "a thing performed" is from 1590s; that of "a public entertainment" is from 1709.
Some say, "preparation is the mother of victory," yet I can't say I was prepared for either one. How could I be? I'd never done either, so in good ol' overthinky-Vish fashion, my imagination got the best of me and took to my nerves, building up worst case scenarios - over and over - until the only thing I could do was try to forget, drink tequila cocktails and pretend it wasn't happening.
Until it was.
Kidding aside, my coping strategy was this: I kept reminding myself that my "performances" weren't so much about how well I ultimately performed, but how much effort I put into performing my best - whatever that was. In the end, we can't all be superstars. But worse than failing according to some normative standard is 1) not trying; and 2) well... not trying.
 |
| It's not all about the performance. It's more about performing - period. |
All this got me thinking about courage and what it takes for us to try new things - especially those things that elicit that insurmountable fear made all the greater from the weight of public scrutiny.
For me, having people who support me is a huge part of what gets me started. But my own knowledge of the payoff is what keeps me going - the knowledge that if I put in my best efforts, I have much more to gain regardless of what happens, than my audience has to lose if I fail. This helps to takes the pressure off.
Looking back, both my "performances" turned out pretty well; wait, scratch that - they turned out great. Despite my own hard-on-myself standards, I felt incredibly empowered and proud of myself after the applause came. Whether that was due to the quality of my performance or my knowledge that I faced a fear doesn't matter. I came away feeling great - accomplished.
accomplish (v.) from Old French acompliss-, lengthened stem of acomplir, based on Latin ad- + complere ‘to complete.’
After a frenzied weekend of much anticipation and stress, my real accomplishment, as many say, was in fact just "showing up." How you define "showing up" is up to you, though I see it as "showing up" after showing up. This is where the real reward comes from.
It's about starting what you started, yes - but then also following through with integrity.
show up (v.) 1826, "to disgrace through exposure," see show (v.) + up (adv.). Meaning "to put in an appearance, be present" is from 1888.It took almost the length of a human lifetime for the definition to evolve from disgracing someone by exposing them, to willingly exposing oneself. I say: Don't wait your whole life to try something new and scary. Expose yourself to those fears and challenges, do your best, and come into the light.
February 20, 2015
mediocrity (n.)
mediocrity (n.): early 15c., "moderation; intermediate state or amount," from Middle French médiocrité and directly from Latin mediocritatem, "a middle state, middling condition, medium," from mediocris. Neutral at first; disparaging sense began to predominate from late 16c.
Since when did living "in the middle" become a bad thing? Apparently since the 1690s. Discussing dreams and goals with a friend today found me identifying the tension between achieving and dreaming big. Both of us have set goals over and over and reached them relatively smoothly, finding ourselves time and time again at that "peak" that disappointingly feels rather...mediocre. I thought we'd be gasping for oxygen up here; rather, I'm gasping at how underwhelming achievement can be. Can we reach for more? Are we not dreaming big enough? "It must not be such a big deal then, if I could get here or do it," said more than one person, I'm sure.
And with each achievement building our confidence and ambition, is a dream only big enough when you fail?
For as long as I can remember, I've made writing an important aspect in my life. I wrote my first poem in grade one (it was about the moon, and it rhymed) and I read it aloud and received (what I believed was honest) applause. I kept it up, though over the years, more private.
 |
| From a 2004 journal entry. |
And while my writing style has (I hope) evolved from angst-ridden and self-indulgent, towards witty, critical, nostalgic and cynical, (informed by the years of the grand ol' experience that is a human life, years piled like those countless stacks of my "vocation",) I realize now more than ever that I've done a pretty good job of being a mediocre writer. Or perhaps (if there is a difference), a very mediocre job at being a great writer.
Is that so bad? Have I found a middle way - of doing something I really love in the periphery of other things I kinda also love? Or am I not dreaming big enough to give this something a bigger, less mediocre, attempt..?
How extreme, disruptive, challenging - perhaps impossible- must one's pursuit be to make Mariana's Trench into Everest?
And why does it seem more appealing to proclaim to the world, "I wrote this between Delhi and Dubrovnik when I couchsurfed" than it is to say, "I wrote this during my evening commute between Arbutus and Fraser after my 9-to-5."
Like right now.
p.s. Before the tinge of disparagement crept in, another name for the "Golden Mean" was golden mediocrity. Let's think about that one.
December 13, 2014
integrity (n.)
Integrity. I hear this word often in yoga class when body alignment is concerned: Holding poses with integrity, pushing to a safe, healthy edge by being honest with what you're capable of or feeling so you can give your body a challenge without hurting yourself. Not being so worried about what it looks like from the outside but feeling it come from inside. Being able to look yourself in the eye in that mirror with the knowledge that you're giving it your all and your best while being good to yourself.
This is true in life, too. I try to remind myself of the importance of living with integrity, particularly when my thoughts get the best of me - when infinite options and worst-case-scenarios pollute my brain towards paralyzing indecision or confusion.
Dictionaries define integrity in three ways:
Whatever it is, you gotta do it with integrity - whether it's sticking to your guns or giving up (you can give up with integrity as much as you can fight with integrity); it's about feeling certain in the decisions you make, or rather, as certain as possible (you can't help what you feel but you can help what you do about it). And you get there by being honest with yourself. And then you push that outwards so that it's reflected in your actions - so that you are being honest with those around you, so that you're living honestly.
It's hard getting clarity in this crazy world. How can we hope to navigate the hardships, irrationalities and challenges we face in life if we can't even own up to what's actually happening or how we feel about it? Without clarity, honesty, we risk muddling everything and living in a hazy limbo, which is not a good nor productive place to be.
Ask yourself the tough questions, don't leave holes, or turn a blind eye. Then act accordingly.
This reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago. I talked out some stuff I was confused about with her and at the core of our conversation came out my truth - something I had not really solidified as the real answer when in conversations with myself. I learned then, that sometimes it takes talking to someone else for your truth to come out in plain view; it's there, but maybe you haven't owned it yet.
After all, the opposite of integrity is deceit.
It can be fairly easy to lie to yourself - or at least to waver on your stance about something - when it's in your head and you're your only audience. Sometimes talking it out with someone can actually help you judge the integrity of your own claims. You may not know you're being dishonest of course, but hearing your claims out in the open puts them under scrutiny - under your scrutiny.
And that takes grit [integrity - an etymological coincidence but I beg to differ) - it requires a certain strength of character, courage and resolve to be willing to hear the truth out loud. But it's so worth it. Because then you're aligned, living on your edge, and growing stronger with each new challenge - no longer just posing, but living and breathing it, just like in yoga.
This is true in life, too. I try to remind myself of the importance of living with integrity, particularly when my thoughts get the best of me - when infinite options and worst-case-scenarios pollute my brain towards paralyzing indecision or confusion.
Dictionaries define integrity in three ways:
- Steadfast adherence to a strict moral or ethical code.
- The state of being unimpaired; soundness.
- The quality of being whole or undivided; completeness.
Whatever it is, you gotta do it with integrity - whether it's sticking to your guns or giving up (you can give up with integrity as much as you can fight with integrity); it's about feeling certain in the decisions you make, or rather, as certain as possible (you can't help what you feel but you can help what you do about it). And you get there by being honest with yourself. And then you push that outwards so that it's reflected in your actions - so that you are being honest with those around you, so that you're living honestly.
It's hard getting clarity in this crazy world. How can we hope to navigate the hardships, irrationalities and challenges we face in life if we can't even own up to what's actually happening or how we feel about it? Without clarity, honesty, we risk muddling everything and living in a hazy limbo, which is not a good nor productive place to be.
Ask yourself the tough questions, don't leave holes, or turn a blind eye. Then act accordingly.
This reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago. I talked out some stuff I was confused about with her and at the core of our conversation came out my truth - something I had not really solidified as the real answer when in conversations with myself. I learned then, that sometimes it takes talking to someone else for your truth to come out in plain view; it's there, but maybe you haven't owned it yet.
After all, the opposite of integrity is deceit.
It can be fairly easy to lie to yourself - or at least to waver on your stance about something - when it's in your head and you're your only audience. Sometimes talking it out with someone can actually help you judge the integrity of your own claims. You may not know you're being dishonest of course, but hearing your claims out in the open puts them under scrutiny - under your scrutiny.
And that takes grit [integrity - an etymological coincidence but I beg to differ) - it requires a certain strength of character, courage and resolve to be willing to hear the truth out loud. But it's so worth it. Because then you're aligned, living on your edge, and growing stronger with each new challenge - no longer just posing, but living and breathing it, just like in yoga.
May 2, 2014
injure (v.)
Back at the end of March, I decided to start training for the BMO half marathon. I had a good baseline to start from as I've always been a bit of a runner, my feet usually finding their way to the seawall for a 10K once a week, but I had never run quite that far. I was stoked and pretty exhilerated when I signed up - put some money down, gambling on my commitment to run 21km of hilly terrain, for my first-ever organized run.
I was off to a good start and gradually added kilometers to my training. I did do one (in hindsight, ambitious) big jump from about 12km, to 18km, but handled it pretty well. Woke up one Sunday and joined a friend with the Runner's World group and handled it with relative ease. Took it slow, and did it in just shy of two hours. That week, my foot started to hurt and I had to take a week or so off. I figured I'd regressed a bit, but wasn't too concerned - until a weird knee pain paid me a visit another two 10Ks later.
Late last week, I was still peg-legging up and down stairs and having a bit of a hard time comfortably walking (without that "icky-something's-up-with-my-kneecap" feeling). I took it easy this week and felt pretty good. Today, being Friday and the final countdown before the BMO, I decided to give it a go. Two kilometers later, I was done, icky feeling back and all. Came home for a glass of wine and an ice pack (pretty much what I'm doing right now).
It's not a coincidence that there's only a slight distinction between "injure" and "endure." What's interesting though is that I'm having an easier time enduring the injury itself than I am enduring the fact that I can't continue working towards my goal - and that in fact, I may have to just bow out altogether.
Ironically, "injury" comes from the Latin injuria, ‘a wrong,’ (from in-, expressing negation, + jur- ‘right.’). It couldn't be more right. That icky feeling is definitely a reaction to something being wrong with my body - feeling this dull, unnerving sort of pain (much like the disturbing feeling of a vaccination I had a couple of weeks ago).
But this injury also invokes the feeling of perpetuating a moral wrong - doing something that is in contention with my principles: Abandoning my goal by not running. The goals I set - and push to reach - stand for my attitude and character and I feel I must, at the very least, "show up and try."
These are the... enduries I'm injuring. I may have to just swallow my pride and sleep in on Sunday; lick my wounds (at least it's not an injured elbow!) and go to Julie's waffle brunch instead... Or, do I show up at the start line at 7am with the knowledge that I will likely abandon my goal just to know I showed up? Endure an ungodly wake-up-at-dawn morning....for the sake of my injured ego?
I was off to a good start and gradually added kilometers to my training. I did do one (in hindsight, ambitious) big jump from about 12km, to 18km, but handled it pretty well. Woke up one Sunday and joined a friend with the Runner's World group and handled it with relative ease. Took it slow, and did it in just shy of two hours. That week, my foot started to hurt and I had to take a week or so off. I figured I'd regressed a bit, but wasn't too concerned - until a weird knee pain paid me a visit another two 10Ks later.
Late last week, I was still peg-legging up and down stairs and having a bit of a hard time comfortably walking (without that "icky-something's-up-with-my-kneecap" feeling). I took it easy this week and felt pretty good. Today, being Friday and the final countdown before the BMO, I decided to give it a go. Two kilometers later, I was done, icky feeling back and all. Came home for a glass of wine and an ice pack (pretty much what I'm doing right now).
It's not a coincidence that there's only a slight distinction between "injure" and "endure." What's interesting though is that I'm having an easier time enduring the injury itself than I am enduring the fact that I can't continue working towards my goal - and that in fact, I may have to just bow out altogether.
Ironically, "injury" comes from the Latin injuria, ‘a wrong,’ (from in-, expressing negation, + jur- ‘right.’). It couldn't be more right. That icky feeling is definitely a reaction to something being wrong with my body - feeling this dull, unnerving sort of pain (much like the disturbing feeling of a vaccination I had a couple of weeks ago).
But this injury also invokes the feeling of perpetuating a moral wrong - doing something that is in contention with my principles: Abandoning my goal by not running. The goals I set - and push to reach - stand for my attitude and character and I feel I must, at the very least, "show up and try."
These are the... enduries I'm injuring. I may have to just swallow my pride and sleep in on Sunday; lick my wounds (at least it's not an injured elbow!) and go to Julie's waffle brunch instead... Or, do I show up at the start line at 7am with the knowledge that I will likely abandon my goal just to know I showed up? Endure an ungodly wake-up-at-dawn morning....for the sake of my injured ego?
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