There's an idea that's been making me
feel oddly reassured for the last few weeks now. And while I'm sure
in one form or another I've come across the idea, the matter-of-fact
way I happened to state it out loud had a particularly resonating
feeling.
“Everything that has or will exist is happening now, we're just rearranging the pieces.”
I very much just click with the phrasing. Maybe you've caught blurbs of quantum mechanics experiments that show future events alter the past. Maybe you're someone who likes to remain present in a Buddhist tradition. Maybe an unbound hedonism and A.D.D. makes it hard for you to even pronounce “future” or “past.” The idea certainly isn't new.
I suppose it gives me a sense of calm when I'm baffled and hurt by how hard it seems to understand someone else. No doubt I can reach into my bag of psychology explanations. I can describe the environment. I can employ philosophy. But an endless string of potentially plausible, if not often correct, components isn't someone else's actual explanation. Just reading words or speculating isn't enough. You won't know if they're hurt or angry or merely confused. You won't know if they mean it.
I suppose as well that the phrasing helps me cope with loss. What did I lose when nothing is created nor destroyed? Sounds awkward and cold. What did I lose when the positives and negatives that created the situation were there before, during, and after? Perhaps just the willingness to focus on the positive.
For me, it's not so much about “getting somewhere” as it is expressing what I think I already know. When I played with blocks, I didn't want to build the “perfect” building, I just wanted to create something I hadn't seen before. When I collected Pokemon cards or Marvel Legends, I didn't set out to one day own them all, I just knew there was value in retention of what's popular. I think it speaks to the ideal in relationships. You both know the best and worst things about yourselves, is it possible the other will just let you be? Will you translate what you know about your feelings or otherwise in a way that works for both sides?
One of the reasons I consider myself such a bad translator is that I offer an insane amount of information. I do this because I think people are lazy. I do it to defy short-cutting. I think when it matters, you write until you're forced to stop. I don't think being thoughtful can be reduced to a meme, quote, or catch-all demonizing sentiment stated with folded arms. Information is deceptive. A number isn't just a number whether you're talking about climate change, your age, or the amount of people you've had sex with.
The only way to get underneath is to try and face yourself. It's to constantly struggle with the words. It's to take the thought you had in the shower and let it bother you all day at work, then keep you up at night, then remind you next week you haven't done it justice. Sometimes I look back on the sheer amount of words I've written and wonder where the hell it all came from. I wonder if everyone is going through the same thing and what's happening to them by not figuring out better ways of organizing it.
Again, I can always provide myself answers. They're voting for Hitler 2. They're getting married. (Interesting I thought of those next to each other.) Their facebook posts aren't just beautiful but fun and encouraging. They're living the dream! They're working that much harder. They're getting by. They're one generalized sentiment about life after another until they're drunk in private or something unexpected happens to them.
But you won't know a specific person's fear. You won't learn they're angry at themselves. You won't grasp the weight of their ties and responsibilities. Not through a couple pages like this or comments in a forum. You especially won't know those things the longer you wait to figure out what's plaguing your own depths. Without the right tools you won't even be able to recognize what's written in their tone, their face, or their body language.
It occurs to me that I never want to begrudge someone their happiness. At the same time, I'm so extremely wary of what they say makes them happy that I think it muddies the water about how I'm supposed to relate to them. I've noticed for all the encouraged Pokemon Go enthusiasts there apparently are, the hype has dimmed a lot and I see considerably less people wandering the neighborhood. Does the game make them happy? Are they content? I find the larger group psychology and popularity engine story more compelling and reliable.
Because when do you feel like a confident person with reliable opinions worthy of respect and contemplation? For me, it's in habitually couching myself in doubt. As well, I wait for it to be ripped out of me. My disposition isn't my worst days. My sense of self isn't dictated by my most incoherent or rambling blogs. My sense of friendship isn't bound by the number listed on facebook or the amount of ones that fail or degrade for reasons beyond my intentions and efforts. It's laughing when you're moved to laugh, staying up because the conversation deserves it, or politely declining because that's better than spitting it out.
How do you build your person? Certainly you can remain plagued by your starkest memories. You can be led by the nose from the charismatic. You can simply find yourself “still alive” and begin to believe you're not half bad at this “adulting” thing and therefore many of your opinions must be correct. My instinct tells me that's probably the most frequented, with the other two close in toe.
Even if I only ever feel like I'm building words, it's undeniable their capacity in helping me navigate the painful and, often fundamentally unreliable yet so damming words, that come my way. I so often want to blame you, but I so rarely know what you even consist of. I know your general earthly environment. I know snippets of our collective history. I know what it feels in the moment of elation and tragedy. But I'll always have a sinking feeling about how I never got to know you.
“Everything that has or will exist is happening now, we're just rearranging the pieces.”
I very much just click with the phrasing. Maybe you've caught blurbs of quantum mechanics experiments that show future events alter the past. Maybe you're someone who likes to remain present in a Buddhist tradition. Maybe an unbound hedonism and A.D.D. makes it hard for you to even pronounce “future” or “past.” The idea certainly isn't new.
I suppose it gives me a sense of calm when I'm baffled and hurt by how hard it seems to understand someone else. No doubt I can reach into my bag of psychology explanations. I can describe the environment. I can employ philosophy. But an endless string of potentially plausible, if not often correct, components isn't someone else's actual explanation. Just reading words or speculating isn't enough. You won't know if they're hurt or angry or merely confused. You won't know if they mean it.
I suppose as well that the phrasing helps me cope with loss. What did I lose when nothing is created nor destroyed? Sounds awkward and cold. What did I lose when the positives and negatives that created the situation were there before, during, and after? Perhaps just the willingness to focus on the positive.
For me, it's not so much about “getting somewhere” as it is expressing what I think I already know. When I played with blocks, I didn't want to build the “perfect” building, I just wanted to create something I hadn't seen before. When I collected Pokemon cards or Marvel Legends, I didn't set out to one day own them all, I just knew there was value in retention of what's popular. I think it speaks to the ideal in relationships. You both know the best and worst things about yourselves, is it possible the other will just let you be? Will you translate what you know about your feelings or otherwise in a way that works for both sides?
One of the reasons I consider myself such a bad translator is that I offer an insane amount of information. I do this because I think people are lazy. I do it to defy short-cutting. I think when it matters, you write until you're forced to stop. I don't think being thoughtful can be reduced to a meme, quote, or catch-all demonizing sentiment stated with folded arms. Information is deceptive. A number isn't just a number whether you're talking about climate change, your age, or the amount of people you've had sex with.
The only way to get underneath is to try and face yourself. It's to constantly struggle with the words. It's to take the thought you had in the shower and let it bother you all day at work, then keep you up at night, then remind you next week you haven't done it justice. Sometimes I look back on the sheer amount of words I've written and wonder where the hell it all came from. I wonder if everyone is going through the same thing and what's happening to them by not figuring out better ways of organizing it.
Again, I can always provide myself answers. They're voting for Hitler 2. They're getting married. (Interesting I thought of those next to each other.) Their facebook posts aren't just beautiful but fun and encouraging. They're living the dream! They're working that much harder. They're getting by. They're one generalized sentiment about life after another until they're drunk in private or something unexpected happens to them.
But you won't know a specific person's fear. You won't learn they're angry at themselves. You won't grasp the weight of their ties and responsibilities. Not through a couple pages like this or comments in a forum. You especially won't know those things the longer you wait to figure out what's plaguing your own depths. Without the right tools you won't even be able to recognize what's written in their tone, their face, or their body language.
It occurs to me that I never want to begrudge someone their happiness. At the same time, I'm so extremely wary of what they say makes them happy that I think it muddies the water about how I'm supposed to relate to them. I've noticed for all the encouraged Pokemon Go enthusiasts there apparently are, the hype has dimmed a lot and I see considerably less people wandering the neighborhood. Does the game make them happy? Are they content? I find the larger group psychology and popularity engine story more compelling and reliable.
Because when do you feel like a confident person with reliable opinions worthy of respect and contemplation? For me, it's in habitually couching myself in doubt. As well, I wait for it to be ripped out of me. My disposition isn't my worst days. My sense of self isn't dictated by my most incoherent or rambling blogs. My sense of friendship isn't bound by the number listed on facebook or the amount of ones that fail or degrade for reasons beyond my intentions and efforts. It's laughing when you're moved to laugh, staying up because the conversation deserves it, or politely declining because that's better than spitting it out.
How do you build your person? Certainly you can remain plagued by your starkest memories. You can be led by the nose from the charismatic. You can simply find yourself “still alive” and begin to believe you're not half bad at this “adulting” thing and therefore many of your opinions must be correct. My instinct tells me that's probably the most frequented, with the other two close in toe.
Even if I only ever feel like I'm building words, it's undeniable their capacity in helping me navigate the painful and, often fundamentally unreliable yet so damming words, that come my way. I so often want to blame you, but I so rarely know what you even consist of. I know your general earthly environment. I know snippets of our collective history. I know what it feels in the moment of elation and tragedy. But I'll always have a sinking feeling about how I never got to know you.
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