Still Alive

 In the beginning of a relationship, when things go sour, it is not so much the death of the relationship but the loss of hope that brings unbearable sadness they say. One mourns for the dreams one dreamt, for the laughs one hoped to share, for the warmth in the midst of a cold, dark night. This is the grief that tells us we are capable of love, that we yearn for it no matter what may have happened in the past. 

For me, not only is this grief an intense outpouring of emotion, but perversely, also the trigger that gets me out of my stupor and inertia. It makes me want to make music and write words on a page instead of staring vacantly at a screen. At the heart of it, it tells me I am still alive. 

Romance

I've often stated that I am not a die-hard romantic. I don't keep mementos, I don't get sentimental about places, possessions. I don't need  flowers, chocolate, candy, or sweet words. And fantasies and dreams have a way of coming crashing down around me. But events of the recent past have had me rethink the notion of romance and what it means to be a romantic. And here’s what I came up with:

The belief that everything has purpose, a larger meaning than the profane.

The sense of a story - one’s own. 

A state where everything is felt - deeply, consumingly, always.

Faith that things are meant to be; Or not.

Trust in goodness.

Hope for happiness; eternal optimism.

Lost causes and foolish quests; the strength to see them through

Power

Rand has been a powerful influence in shaping how I think about many things, including the opinions of other people and how much that does or doesn’t matter to me. And while age, maturity, experience, and other authors (hat tips are due to Steinbeck, Orwell, Vonnegut, and Murakami) have tempered her extremism, I still find solace in much of what she has to say in the lowest phases of my life.

One of her thesis that I’ve continued to find relevant in its entirety is the psychological profile of Power and what it does to people. The power hungry man is the ultimate second-hander, to borrow a phrase from The Fountainhead. His sense of self-worth entirely dependent on the number of people whose life he can influence and change. And in that sense he is bound tightest by what others want. 

And unfortunately, I’ve seen enough in the last couple of years to agree with this unreservedly. I’ve experienced the hatred that certain people feel when they know they cannot control you and/or influence the direction of your life. The frustration and disappointment that sends them on a senseless rampage. The smugness when they think they’ve had their way; their bewilderment when they find that what they wanted mattered not to you at all; that ultimately it was your choice, for your own reasons, and that you are happy. Then they are not. Despite having gotten what they wanted. Because it was not what they wanted at all. They were not after any specific outcome. Just the chance at power and influence. And so it is not the outcome that gives them satisfaction or Joy, rather their role in it. They’ll hurt themselves and the ones they love the most, if it means they can feel power. They’ll walk over a field full of corpses (to again borrow a phrase, and completely out of context) just to feel worthy of being alive. 

But the worth of life is measured not in how others live their life because of you but in how you live yours. Your experiences, your feelings, your choices. It is measured in the way you feel about yourself because of YOU and not because of what Others think of You, your choices, or your life. Their Judgement of your life is theirs. Relevant in the same way that your judgement of someone else is meant - not for you to change them but for you to decide your terms of engagement with them. Judge, choose, act in favour of outcomes you desire, and let its impact on others’ lives be incidental. 

Another year

December makes most of us reflective I suppose. Thinking of the year gone by, the tradition of making promises for the year ahed. And in keeping with that, I find myself looking back at the highs and lows of 2017. In Bullet point fashion and in complete stream of consciousness order, here goes

1. I am writing again! YAY!
2. Greece
3. Misadventures in romance
4. Misadventures at work
5. Confronting the worst in myself
6. Telling myself not to be optimistic of others' character
7. Being okay with being let down
8. Not taking rejection personally - not chalking it up to something undesirable in me.
9. Realising that the buck doesn't always stop with me
10. I can't fix everything, no matter how hard I try
11. Travel, more travel
12. Freedom
13. The Thirties
14. Speaking my mind... without offensiveness or defensiveness
15. Anxiety - my constant companion - still refusing to abandon me
16. Living on my own V 2.0
17. Finding comfort inside my own head - after very long
18. Believing in myself
19. Learning to sleep through the night again
20. Being Kind to myself - yes, this is a thing and it's a very important thing!
21. New look and Loving it. Definitely keeping it :)

Long List. Cryptic. But this has been a year of endlessly searching within myself. Peeling away layers. And, if I were to truly find a theme, it is ACCEPTANCE and BELIEF. Forgiving myself for my flaws has been the hardest. But I am getting there. The Vanity project and wardrobe makeover has certainly helped that one.

Maybe a little more on some of these before the month is over but tonight, all I wanted was to make this list. So here it is!

Dominique

I re-read The Fountainhead often. Usually in times of uncertainty, change, angst, or just moments when I am in need of affirmation. I also re-read Atlas Shrugged as, if not more, often but that is another post for another time. 

However, this time's re-read of The Fountainhead has been one of the most enriching. I am suddenly seeing deeper into some of the characters and pieces of the puzzle that remained only vaguely understood have become clearer. One of these is the character of Dominique. 

Dominique's quest for self-destruction has always fascinated me. More so perhaps because I can never quite fathom such hopelessness. But the last year, one of the most trying ones in life so far, gave me new appreciation for her angst. Her utter hopelessness in being able to reconcile her idealism and her dream of the perfect man with the halfway that exists in reality plunges her into despair and when we meet her, she has already decided that the world is deserving only of mockery, that a to live a life well, fully and consistently and emerge victorious is impossible; for the terms of battle are those that she cannot accept. 

And so, Dominique Francon, Femme fatale, the love interest of three men who stand at counterpoints to each other, chooses to expose the pretence that the world expects by pretending openly and consciously. She is contrarian in everything she does, flinging the unexpected, making a mockery of the rules. In all this she is amused yet miserable. Miserable for the lost ideal, the wasted potential, the indignity of fighting imbeciles at their stupid games to make place for those who should not need to fight at all. 

I've always found Dominique puzzling for how can one of her obvious intelligence be so held by the opinions of others? She of all people should know better than to care. But she does. She does because what she really wants, deep down is to be proven wrong. She wants to see Roark succeed even though she does everything she can to ensure otherwise. She believes she is protecting him from the pain of falling by not allowing him to rise at all.

This fierce desire to protect, to not be used by those unwilling to even acknowledge their need of you is something I've felt in some measure. The pain at having to explain oneself to those one believes to be inferior, to have to justify decisions, and demand acknowledgement because they don't know better. To make allowances for their ignorance and then finally coming to the realisation that lies at the crux of The Fountainhead and of Dominique's transformation by the end of the novel - that one needn't base one's estimation of success or failure by the standards set by others. That one's pain and one's happiness is for one alone to define. To know, with absolute certainty, that other's failure to recognise is not a failing in oneself, that one is not obliged to fight in order to be able to acknowledge that inner sense of being.

That is my lesson from Dominique for 2017. And as usual, I am absolutely dying to discuss some of this with the few people who I know will get it.

Stewing in your own Stew

We most often drown in puddles of our own making. Parenting is a classic case. We all want to be the cool parent, the liberal ones, the ones that bring up their kids with freedom and independence. All well-intentioned.

But then the kids grow up to be say 5, they talk back, have a mind of their own and decide when they are going to be doing what. Oh the blasted irritation of it all! If only one could get one's toddler to sit down when it was convenient to us! But the toddler doesn't understand deadlines or lack of sleep do they? And poor cool parent is then forced to bring out the rod. Be not-so-cool and remind said toddler who is boss, leaving the little tyke confused and wondering.

This situation plays itself not just in the world of parenting but in the world of team leadership. All of us want to be coolest boss on the floor if you know what I mean! But let that one day, when there is no one around when we need them roll along and we are left facing the music of our own decisions.

There is something to be said then for finding a balance. For not placing too much premium on being the "coolest" or "friendliest" or even "most approachable" leader. After all, popularity isn't the primary point right? Unless you are in politics of course! In which case, I for one, fully appreciate your dilemmas. It is good to set boundaries from the beginning even if some people don't like them. Be clear about the expectations and the kind of unit you want to run. After all, you are the boss.

The project of Uncertainty

It hangs in the air

Silent yet full

Full of hope, hopeless

Contradiction, paradox, oxymoron

Wonderful, anxious, sadistic, masochistic. 

Envious, precious, regretted, unsaid

Frightening, exhilarating, Fantasy, agony

Hell, heaven. 

A leap into the void

Landing on my feet, shattering my heart

Piecing it together, keeping it safe

Letting it out, exploring the beyond. 

Blacks, whites, greys

Caution, abandon, melting away, freezing hard

The illusion of hard walls, the softness of snow

Salty tears, brilliant smiles, mellow sunshine and harsh cold. 

Going away, coming back

Messy and magical, rules and bent lines.

The space in between

I am saddened by how little I have written in the last few years, how little I have wanted to write. The  block, which I hope is clearing today with the urge to suddenly put everything out here, I think came from being deeply unsure of myself.

I am not very much surer today of anything than I was in 2013 but I hope I am more comfortable in the space that I have chosen. It is a space that has always made me deeply anxious and yet one that makes me the most expressive version of myself - the space of alone-ness, of solitude, of living only with my own mind for company. 

It is a space both of peace and a constant restlessness but as soon as I conquer it, I find myself yearning for it. It is the only place where I find myself able to be vulnerable, a trait I think essential for any art. In all it's forms, art is about putting yourself out there, revealing your deepest, darkest corners, and trying to find more universal meaning in it.

One of my projects going forward is to do this more regularly and consistently than I have ever before, in the service of a lifelong dream. Here's to the space in between, to making complete and utter peace with, finding joy in it, and finally getting to a place where I have enough faith in myself to turn that dream into reality.

Mocking Bird

My mind is a dangerous place.

It spins spidery webs,

thin slivers of sticky goo.

It digs deep holes 

knowing I will fall into them.

And then it watches, 

amusing itself in my heart's misery. 

My mind is a dangerous leader.
It makes me smile when I want to scream,
square my shoulders when all I want
is to sink in and disappear.
It watches me struggle,
applauding
even as I am almost breaking.

My mind, what would I do without you
and what I would do to sometimes be without you.
Then I would be truly alone
Blissfully unaware of even my alone-ness.
But no, you will stay.
My stoic friend and
my mocking bird.

The Rant about Bleeding Hearts

A friend and I were ranting yesterday about all the privileged leftists with their corporate salaries, preaching equal distribution of wealth. Why don’t you queue up to spread yours around first? Quoting Che Guevara, wearing tattered clothes, and travelling like a hippie doesn’t make you a committed leftist. Oh and if you were to actually go live in one of the communist countries, they would ask you to shut the hell up. So please be thankful for the freedom you have, be critical of governments and policies by all means but do NOT go spouting ideologies that you don’t understand the first thing about and that you personally, would not want to live by if it meant giving up that little silver spoon sticking out of your mouth. 

The true meaning of "The Right"

As Donald Trump gets ready to take the Oath of Office, The Right will once again be maligned for producing a man as incompetent as Trump. But as a proud Right winger myself I want to set the record straight as to what “Right” really means. In the times that we live in, The Right has become, unfortunately, almost exclusively identified with the conservative agenda. Nothing could be farther from the truth when one examines the origins of the economic position of free-trade and free-markets. 

Milton Friedman rightly pointed out, more than 50 years ago, that the Right was and in many ways remains the original bastion of liberal ideas and showed how economic freedom is a necessary (although not sufficient) condition for political and personal freedom. The system that we find so easy to deride is the very one that gives us the freedom to dissent, even if it is against the system itself. Yes, not all who hold a right wing position on economy support gay marriage or democracy or abortion. But name me one true communist system that is also a democracy!

What most people fail to understand is that right-left is but one axis of political views. Then there is the Liberal-Conservative axis that defines our views on subjects like gender, sexuality, marriage, reproductive rights, and religion. A third axis is the Hawks-Doves that pertains to views on relations between nations, diplomacy, and the use of force beyond ones’ own borders. There are probably others as well if one were to think on it hard enough. It is possible to be a right wing-conservative-dove just as much as it is to be a right wing-liberal-hawk. Ironically, though, today the term “Right-wing” has come to signify, at least in the popular consciousness, the definition of only a Right-wing conservative. The term Liberal has been appropriated almost entirely by the intellectual Left (who would actually shudder to actually live in a Leftist economy) and so I find myself in the position of forever having to explain the concept of a Right-wing Liberal. 

That Trump has been elected is in large part a reaction to the free market and consequences of globalisation, and a sexist vote in other ways. And hence, it is doubly ironical if the right as a whole were to be derided. A true economic right-winger would not support the restriction of global trade, or outsourcing. Restricting economic freedom and competition are both ideologies that stand at odds with the bedrock of the economic right. 

Today, with the complexities of the economic system having increased manifold, there is confusion on positions that were once as clear as night and day. Today, the same economic freedom that promoted competition domestically is being played out on a  scale where, through the lens of national borders, an entire nation of people feels cheated of their “dream” and so we have swathes of Britain voting for a “Brexit” and an even larger swathe of America voting Trump for President. So, let us not blame the ideal of economic freedom, or The Right, for what is, irrespective of political ideology, a recipe for disaster.

And Trump is a disaster not because of his ideals but because of his lack of them, because of his ignorance, for his vitriolic diatribes, and because of his lack of common decency.

On why this space is scared

Writing here is like putting something out there... Hoping that the right person will discover it at the right time. And suddenly it will make as much sense beyond you as it made within you. 

The effects of reading The Fountainhead.... Again!

I think not writing has just been a refusal to think... For if I thought, I would run far far away. 

Alone is best

I wish I thought of you tonight. But I don't. Of either of you. Doesn't that say everything? 

The Altruism of Parenthood... or not

It's really quite amazing what centuries of social conditioning can achieve - forms of repression so insidious that you don't even spot the fallacy in the argument. I've been dealing with one such argument rather intensely for the last two years and then some more. I've decided today that I am going to write about it. Those who know me personally, know exactly what I am talking about. Those who don't, well, come along if you like speculating on human nature and social conditioning.

This black hole is called parenthood. We are taught, early in life, too early in fact, to revere parenthood. It is portrayed as the ultimate form of altruism. Whereas, genetically, it is the precise opposite. How often do you hear some form of "your parents sacrificed so much for you, you are inhuman if you aren't grateful and remain forever indebted to them"? And no. It is seldom so blatant. Such honest perversion of the truth cannot survive for very long without being spotted by enough people to get rid of it from society.

So, let me state my case. Parenthood is a SELFISH (bold, underline, italics, and whatever else it takes to emphasise that point). Profoundly so. It is driven by the desire of two individuals to propagate their genetic identity (it strikes me as I write this, that perhaps, that is why people with intense creative passions or famous people don't feel as strongly about parenthood. Their identity survives mortality in different ways). The benefit of child rearing is to ensure that the genes last long enough to get to the next generation and so on and so forth. I am assuming I don't have to explain why that survival is important?

So, no, you didn't do me a favour by bringing me into this world. I didn't ask you to. In case you don't realise, I didn't exist and I didn't have a choice in the matter. What about everything I did for you post that, you ask? Well, how much of a choice in any of that did you give me? How much of it was because you wanted me to study somewhere or take up some hobby to satisfy something within you - pride, a desire you didn't get to satisfy, an achievement that you value?

Hence, I don't buy it when you say you sacrificed your youth for me. You lived vicariously through me. You will live on through every subsequent generation. I don't blame you for it. But I am not grateful for it. Both of us benefit. Quid Pro Quo. So again I ask, where's the sacrifice?

And, lastly, you always had the choice to NOT have children - perfectly legitimate, no matter what anyone tells you. EVER. No one is duty-bound to reproduce. In this modern age, many of us don't feel that evolutionary pull to reproduce and guess what, that's okay. There are enough people on this planet for the human race to be getting along. And, besides, like I said before, who said having children was the only way to reach immortality? And again, everything you gave that child after birth was also your choice. That child never asked to be sent to x or y school. Likely that choice was made before the poor child even understood what school means.

Have children. But accept that YOU want them. Parenthood is a wonderful experience (though not a parent myself, I see enough close friends enjoying it to believe that it is wonderful). Don't make it a debt your child has to live under, never being free of guilt.

I'll tell you the things I am thankful to you for - all the times you left me to take my decisions and make my mistakes and bear the consequences thereof, all the times that you told me that my life was mine, not yours to pawn, all the times you told me to NOT think of you. Those are the things that have given value to my life and not the mere fact that you gave birth to me. Notice how none of these things involve YOU.

So yes, I am thankful. Not because you gave birth to me but because you recognise that my life is MINE despite the fact that you gave birth to me.

What is the value of this conditioning? Why would society bother with it, tacitly? For this is no conspiracy theory. I am willing to bet a good amount of money that this phenomenon did not exist in the primitive times when people popped off at the ripe young age of 40, often violently or suddenly. This conditioning answers a sociological need that appears only when people begin to live far beyond the age of physical fitness or productivity. It is further exacerbated by the disappearance of community living (nomadic societies were communal), where old age can be lonely and intimidating. A prolonged period of possible dependence towards the end of one's life is a daunting thought and for many children are an insurance policy against this.

The insecure are the ones that use this method of entitlement to ensure that their children don't abandon them. The secure, on the other hand, rely either solely on each other as a couple or trust the love that they and their children bear for each other that they will be taken care of without laying claim or entitlement or showing up at the door to collect a paycheck.

But understanding the problem is only one part of the solution. Yes, being aware of why we adopt some behaviour patterns will hopefully make us more aware individuals, better equipped to resist the temptation to take the easy way out. But the larger dialogue that we must have as a society is the provision that we must make for the aged both through the provision of facilities such as assisted living and social security as well as by educating the younger generation and changing the nature of conversation around old age.

Lastly, this is not an argument for or against multiple generations living together. It is merely a point of view on the oft-heard claim stated in the beginning. And yes, it is a bit of a rant for I feel passionately on the subject of entitlements.

Complete

The beginning and end are both great unknowns. The story is actually without either and only creates an illusion of completeness.

On the journey

It seems I've lost the beginning and don't know where to find it anymore.

Heroines

In the books they are always beautiful or at least, the words used to describe them are.
In Life, we are short, tall, fat, thin, fair, dark, pretty, or ugly.
And we are all still the heroines of our own stories.

The thing about climbing the ladder

You don't have to do everything but neither is your time your own.
You have more power but you can't be a control freak.
You could do it much better but you can't do it yourself.
It is easy to make changes but teaching takes time.

Impatience

Yesterday, last hour, a minute ago.

Everything was supposed to happen in the past.

Nothing for now.

Nothing for later.

We don't want to wait,

so we fight ourselves and everyone else;

flap about disconsolately; wonder about the meaning of life

Where are the fantasies of meandering,

when people want to begin with endpoints? 

Non memories of ecstatic moments,

a blur that ends in a sigh.

The future stretches ahead,

a large room filled with mementos and trophies.