Reflections from a Failure

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I started this blog in 2011 because I had experienced something which, at the time, was traumatic.  I was also experiencing high levels of stress at work and had forgotten how to use creative outlets to reconnect with the world.  It’s very interesting to look back on the last three years and see how I have grown, what lessons I have learned, and recognizing that life is very cyclical.

Writing has always been an important part of my life, and it is only recently that I have begun to share that with the world.  I don’t think anything I write is exceptionally special or earth-shattering, but I realized that the reason I was reading books wasn’t only for the sake of reading a book; it was because I was trying to connect with what the author was really trying to say.  I don’t think writing is necessarily a choice; it’s more of a compulsion.  Anyway, what I’m really trying to say here is that I write because I hope that someone stumbling upon this diary can find some solace in the words of a stranger, and to know that as humans we are really very interconnected.  It’s scary and intimidating to lay your inner thoughts on the line, but this isn’t about showcasing emotions like cakes in a bakery display; it’s for those that need the connection.  Somewhere, someone has felt like you.  Maybe I have felt like you–maybe you have felt like me.

I was inspired by author Jo Coudert’s book, Advice from a Failure, when I wrote this journal entry.  I offer up my reflections to anyone else who has felt something similar at some point.

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11/10/14

I have searched and cried and prayed, and whatever god exists, exists without bias, and without human mind.  At least without a human mind that my simple one can comprehend.  Instead, there is a god–maybe like the ‘god of small things’–who exists somewhere deep inside.  “Here am I,” it says, small and far away.

And here am I, small, and tiny, and afraid.  My tiny life is no greater, and no less than any other tiny life in this world.  And maybe I have failed, maybe I have failed countless times.  I have failed to be so many things, and to have met so many expectations, and I have failed to have continued to see the Way.

Maybe I failed because I wasn’t small and neatly packaged enough.  Maybe I failed because I came with too many stipulations and too much necessity for compromise.  Maybe I failed because I was not strong enough or maybe because I was too strong at times.  Maybe I failed because when I was rejected and turned away I could not leave well enough alone with dignity.  Maybe I failed because I wasn’t something else entirely.

But I am this thing; I have always been this, and to deny it is to deny myself.  And if all else changed in the blink of an eye, I would be left with just this.

It is not love to deny the self, or to feel quashed and trapped because of the desire to quell the self for another.  It is not love to deny what we are.  So, to stop pursuing love is to find it.  To find it in those who have always loved us, despite our faults.  To find it in the small acts of kindness we ourselves can attempt to offer, the compassion we can attempt to give.  In the ability to look at our fellow man and not judge his or her shortcomings, but to feel only compassion and empathy for all who suffer from this human condition.

And, finally, to hear the voice that says, “Here am I,” far away in the depths within, and to answer, “Here I am, I will never leave.”

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In Dreams Begin Responsibilities

Recently, I started reading Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore, and, as always, he doesn’t disappoint.  What I like best about Murakami’s writing is that it is filled with philosophic, historic, artistic, and musical references.  Somehow he is able to take things that have struck a chord with him in his own life and apply them to his writing.  His works are also usually laden with psychology woven into them, and subsequently open to interpretation.  Sometimes his concepts are strange, but he is able to showcase the human experience very well, and in my opinion it is by the open-ended aspects and the non-definitive.

I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking recently, reflecting on my experiences the past year up till now, and a certain part of the book really resonated with me.  One of the main characters, a boy who calls himself “Kafka,” is staying at his friend’s isolated cabin, which is filled only with survival necessities and books.  Kafka begins to read a book about a Nazi war criminal, Adolf Eichmann, who was tasked to find the “final solution” for the Jews.  Eichmann was very systematic about it, considering financial costs, the cheapest methods for the transportation and disposal of human bodies.  He was given a situation and mapped out the best possible, practical way to complete the task.  The shocking part is that Eichmann never questioned the morality of any of it, and when he was tried as a war criminal he was lost and confused.  He was just following orders; he was just being a good officer.  The boy, Kafka, finds a note his friend has penciled in the book.  It reads:

“It’s all a question of imagination.  Our responsibility begins with the power to imagine.  It’s just like Yeats said: In dreams begin responsibilities.  Flip this around and you could say where there’s no power to imagine, no responsibility can arise.  Just like we see with Eichmann.”

I thought about this and I realized this concept is a major part of understanding the human condition.  Not everyone shares the same reality.  Our reality is shaped by our own consciousness; this may very well explain the source of all human suffering.  With regard to relationships this can be expressed as: Not everyone views love the same way.  We can beat ourselves up time and time again, we can cling to the past and think of the should’ve-would’ve-could’ves, or we can cut ties with those who have hurt us and accept that the way to heal is to just leave and move on.  Because people experience reality in different ways, we can not expect them to suddenly see and understand our reality.  There are people who will never see things from our point of view.  There are people who will never know how cruel they have been to us.  And it’s not our responsibility to tell them time and time how they hurt us and expect them to magically turn into someone else.

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In Kafka on the Shore, the concepts of God and Karma are very present.  They tie into everything; our relationships included.  Two quotes that have struck me are:

“If you think God’s there, He is. If you don’t, He isn’t. And if that’s what God’s like, I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

“Even chance meetings are the result of karma… Things in life are fated by our previous lives. That even in the smallest events there’s no such thing as coincidence.” 

I don’t know if I believe that everything is fated, or even what really exists within the universe, but I know that if we shape our realities from our own consciousness, while I have the faculty to see what would be poor choices for my physical and mental well-being, I am going to try and make the wisest decisions I can.  I am not going to worry about the choices of others.  Maybe my suffering in this life is caused from some karmic debt, maybe not.  Regardless, when it comes to people who treat me poorly, I will do what I know to be the wisest decision in this life I live now:  I will let them go completely.  

If a person treats us poorly, it is their karma, not ours.

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