Believing in your special.

I came across this term ‘geographical undesirability‘ and it made me feel pretty darn gloomy for a whole moment. It reminded of that time when a superior at work told me that I shouldn’t think I am not expendable, simply because I turned in some work that wasn’t upto the expected mark. It reminds me of being ruthlessly compared to others as a child, and feeling like I could be deemed unlovable simply because of other people being way too similar to me in some ways, and better than me in some others. It reminded me of my wounded ego that reared its ugly head whenever I was told that I was like somebody else- somehow, the auto-algorithm in my heads adds that up to meaning that I am not unique. I have nothing to offer that is solely mine to give. I have no beauty that may not be found elsewhere. And I don’t have that loving quality that is essential in some way.

Perhaps I have the most fragile self-esteem when it comes to being replaceable, about not feeling exclusive, but here’s what makes it ironic – a few months ago, a dear friend told me that I don’t try and make people (who have my attention) feel special either. Call it a shallow definition of risk, but that kinda vulnerability requires all my courage and strength, and through careful study of world and the people that inhabit it, I have concluded (even if only temporarily) that I shouldn’t have to make that effort for everybody.  That kinda connection is truly rare for me.

Which leads me to believe that I am an emotionally intense person. I am inclined, or stimulated in the least, to respond to the small things that catch my eye, that others miss. It pushes me to identify myself with the seemingly mundane in a personal way. While different people have their idiosyncratic ways of dealing with this sense of overwhelming-ness, I choose to either disassociate and put it in perspective among the larger scheme of things, or to isolate it to the extent of assuming randomness to be magic. Alas, neither amounts to the objectivity that my subconscious seems to seek.

Unspoken Truths

I’m going to close my eyes and allow myself to think of you. To think of us- sitting side by side, engaging in harmless banter, taking it by the day. I’m allowing myself to think of what you mean to me. I don’t know where I pulled this phrase out of, but it has stayed with me- to me, the sound of your voice has come to become my anchor and stay. With these within my reach, I can adjust these sails to the wind and be on my way.

I have heard many speak, and sell me their truths, but, for some reason, when I listen to my heart, it brings me back to you.

There are days when I wonder what you would say- there’s a part of me that already knows, but these whispers can’t be half as convincing as you. I yearn to, once again, hear you speak with conviction, the way you do. I need to be told, once again, that all that I have constructed in my head, is but an extensive mirage. These images that play with, they have me trapped, and I would like me some liberation. Speak out loud that which will counteract these demons in my head- tell me about the world in a way that I fear to let myself believe. I am listening with bated breath… this is not hesitation, I am listening.

When I met you, there was no yesterday and I hardly had a thought to spare for tomorrow. When it came to having to go my own way, the distance hardly worried me. I had neither your coordinates, nor your digits, nothing but my dreams to lead me. And when we found our way back to facing each other, it felt like we had never been apart. But the fact of the matter was that we had. Time had worn itself thin on your shoulders, and there were cracks on your usually unruffled, velvet surface. I had had premonitions of them, but to what good did they amount when I had not reached out. I reasoned- what could I have said? How could I have explained what I had known? I’m not past this struggle; but tonight, it is making me weary. I cannot communicate that which is eternal in this fleeting moments measured by time. I am groping, and these thoughts need to be given structure through your words – please. Tell me what it is that I’m thinking, and what it is that I’m running away from. Bring out the secrets that I can’t even tell myself in the solace of solitude. I am desperate to hear them, I’m ready. Is this deliverance?

I have wandered through many a soul, asking questions, probing to hear what they have to say. Alas, they are lying to themselves, and so they are lying to me anyway. Lies, these my heart can cook up on its own. Truths, the fuel to the fire of my burning soul, they are hidden and mostly unspoke.

Value #1: Community

I am trying to contemplate and put a tag on my values. I understand that they are fluid over the longer run, but it pays to have them nailed and labeled, while approaching life.

A sense of community is an important source of value for me. In my early 20s, I traveled quite a bit and lived in close to 3 different cities. I have met several hundreds of people – in fact, facebook tells me that I have been adding an average of 100-130 people every year over the past couple of years, and prior to that, about 60 people every year for about two years. While that doesn’t necessarily mean that I have been meeting and interacting with that many people over the past 5 years, since quite a sum ought to come from reconnecting with schoolmates from my equally well-traveled childhood, that’s still a lot of people.

Has this rendered my relationships superficial? Nope, I wouldn’t agree with that. I cherish all of my friendships, and social media has definitely helped in keeping in touch, but what was missing is a sense of community. With a single friend, you have an equation. You likely picked one another due to shared interests or circumstances, and your ideas bounce off each other to form something more coherent and realistic. It probably even shaped your identity to an extent, but depending on the personalities involved, this could also cut you off from realistic principles of the world, partly because you picked each other to create this cocoon of security and understanding, but there exists a world out there that doesn’t necessarily agree with your principles and methods.

This is where a sense of community is different from simply having a support system. The latter is a subset of the larger community. A community is a system that can cause you discomfort, angst, and frustration. It exists as a transactional setup in the background, within which you can carve out various aspects of your life- your relationships, your career, family and home, and more. Having a sense of community helps you understand and participate in the co-creation of your image – your sense of self that you don’t invest in the same way as you do in intimate relationships, while still featuring on the spectrum of accessibility.

It helps you grasp the larger picture through experiential learning, and the ability to look past your comfort zone. It creates a sense of balance- this is why people choose to complement their work lives with volunteering engagements, a social life, a family life – a layered existence.

I believe that it is important to stick around long enough to be able to create this sort of an existence. I want that. It’s not a picket fence reality that I’m shooting for here. It goes deeper than that. It facilitates reaching out, contributing to shaping a society and economy, and leaving behind lasting legacies – this is important to my identity. It is something I value, and ‘drifting’, simply doesn’t allow me that. Connectedness and deliberate engagement are key.

Communities are not necessarily just physical. As networks expand, communities are becoming virtual, and the playground is larger than ever before.

 

Move over, disillusionment.

Disillusionment is a hard slap to the face of innocence.

Sometimes it feels like almost everybody these days fashions themselves as readers, writers, mavericks, entrepreneurs, change-makers, ‘different’ people with a rigid identity, looking far and wide for their tribe, with fierce emotions tugging at the strings of their soul. The world has been ravaged and devoured by those of our kind. There seems to be little wonder left. If you whisper your dreams into the world, someone is sure to tweet at you saying ‘been there, done that’.

Disillusionment rattles the foundations upon which you build your self. Then don’t, yell the scriptures, the Buddhist monks, the whirling dervishes, the proponents of agape and new age thinkers. Be fluid, like water. Be patient like the sun. Be the apogee of virtue, like an archetype. Be a concept. Live like a prototype in motion. Anything but yourself. Deny yourself the one basic experience that you are living, and transcend.

Ok, stop. Before this gets out of hand. Those will-o’-the-wisp philosophies were not meant to brew up a storm of psychoses.

You need to chill bro. There is a charm to living. It’s got nothing on Utopia, but it’s in a league of its own.