Being honest

The ‘scrambled’ modern mind is like a heat-seeking-missile, constantly tracking, racing to calculate validity of vantage point, by estimating the comparative value of suffering…. closely monitoring  how I compare to others?

This peculiar phenomenon doesn’t add anything…. zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay  to anyone, nothing, nup, zero, just a relentless, botched-custom of wasteful competitive trauma

In memoirs and public utterances across millennium-scrolls and continuous drip-feeds of social media, the unlucky events of life have become the currency of attention and identification.  Personhoods staked on the cards dealt, not the hands played

Our experiences can differ wildly with challenge, sociality and control   Like a Great Dane and a Chihuahua wading through mud.  The Dane’s paws getting slightly soiled, the Chihuahua covered from head-to-toe

In a world of individuals, comparison then, makes no sense at all.  Yet paradoxically, at our core, we are the same 

We’re all in the same boat.  We all have issues.  We all have pain

We are meant to walk gently, brilliantly upright, joyously full of energy, in greatness, stepping beyond one-upmanship, victimhood, and suffering.  Fully embracing life, ‘to thine own self be true’

But, we don’t

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“Any idiot can face a crisis  –  it’s day to day living that wears you out”

Anton Chekhov*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

The path to mastery – starts with recognising that you are wearing yourself out

Struggling, stuck in fixed ways?

Some don’t know or, more accurately, are not aware

Others are self-aware, but don’t deal effectively with what inevitably comes next –  suffering

Somewhere in between, there is an almost imperceptible background hum of subtle, persistent, resignation, signaling that something is not quite right, broken or, not good enough, but we don’t know why, or how to fix it

Turning in quintessential hope, serenading anyone close-by who’ll listen, but sounding more like passing puffs of wind, we justify in short bursts, that life is fine, things are okay, not bad, they are as good as they could be.  But scratch, ever-so-lightly, the tepid surface of false-bravado, you’ll find the really-lived experience of “fine” – freaked-out, insecure, neurotic, emotional

Analysing, evaluating, revisiting, reassessing, topping-off by adding large dollops of sincere, heart-felt contemplation, all about as useful as pulling fluff out of our navel, we try to convince without much evidence.  Chattering-self-talk, arguing-commentary, adds distraction and confusion.  Putting on a brave-face to mask the incessant-fixing-need, out we go – “still crazy after all these years”

  • Harshly judging ourselves
  • Dwelling on inner dramas that have little or no basis in fact
  • Constantly comparing to others
  • Blaming yourself for things you can’t control
  • Blaming others and situations for things you CAN control

Some more?

  • Adding self-misery and intrigue through bad habits and sly-addictions
  • Not being true to you living in your head – “trapped in thoughts”
  • Falling for the misguided belief that we can’t alter who we are
  • Thinking that mistakes, setbacks, failures are ‘catastrophic’ or bad

And, what about?

  • Failing to create or achieve what you want
  • Struggling for motivation – hard to find energy and enthusiasm
  • On your own, feeling vulnerable, on the outer, don’t quite fit in
  • Believing not good enough; lacking in self confidence
  • Not being the “one” – success/fulfillment seems to be for others
  • Harried, hurried, hassled, hopeless – or anything else starting with ‘h’

We all have our own way of making ourselves miserable and unhappy

Our unique manner of self torment and make-believe

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It is possible to end damaging ourselves – over and over – as well as the suffering that comes with it –  metaphorically, smelling the roses – and, all the delight and happiness that this entailsStrangely, many don’t, settling for the false hope that all will miraculously improve, by “doing the best we can”.  But this is not really living

Holding-on, clutching firmly the old and the familiar – longtime staleness of same ol’ same ol’ – stoically putting one foot after another, whilst busily preoccupied wrestling with the slippery, constructed science, of human-doing

Heavily groomed and relentlessly governed by ourselves, pressing against time, diligently in lock-step with the soft drumbeat of a self-imposed limiting score, but missing the sweet-joy, artistry and rhythm of freely choosing human-being

It doesn’t have to be this way