Random thoughts
There is this saying “people fight their demons," which suggests that these demons are some unexplained, metaphysical forces that need to be combated when all we are really talking about is that person’s insecurities, fears, needs, wants, inadequacies, and all of those emotional responses developed during childhood that make up who we are. In our daily lives, so much of our interaction with people is dictated by these issues, which for many are not even acknowledged. Conflict can often be caused by some action or statement striking that tender, open wound hidden deep in someone’s psychological makeup. When emotional responses are left unchecked, logic plays a minimal role in the evolution of these conflicts and the never-ending cycle of simultaneous anger and hurt can be overwhelming and the simple action of saying sorry is blocked by some impenetrable wall. By both people focusing inward on their own pain, suffering and confusion, they make it difficult to impossible to focus on the other person and understand how or why they reacted in the way that they did. In the end, you could be only inches apart physically but emotionally separated by miles.
In general regarding life itself, I more and more see the smallness of it all, the smallness of financial success, of friendship, of family, and of relationships. These feel like different activities or relationships engaged in to help pass the time in the most tolerable and even enjoyable fashion. Concurrent with this, we're always concerned about how people perceive us and how we perceive ourselves. As a result, we engage in a constant struggle to define ourselves and our purpose in life, even if not on any overt level, through our success, family or the attainment of position or power. Not very often, we look up, distancing ourselves from the noise that is our daily existence, and ask what is going on here. More often than not, this questioning is fleeting; with the arrival of the next day, we bury the question in some remote corner of our mind and resume those activities that keep us busy-- moving closer to the point where we will no longer exist, which brings me to me next thought.
It’s interesting to recognize that after we die, the memory of who we really were will eventually cease to exist. In the end, some of us are remembered for the things accomplished, works published, or contributions made, but the memory of who we really were -our fears, desires, and hopes --slowly disappears soon after our death, presuming it was ever really known to begin with. I make these statements as if on some level I feel the memory of us keeps us alive but I recognize the silliness of this as well. I guess I simply find it difficult to even understand what it means for a world to continue in my absence. The people who were closest to you will remember what you were like and have some sense of your inner being but those people too will eventually die and there will be a time where none of your essence will be remembered at all.
I look at my 4 month old nephew, and wonder what he will remember of me when he is elderly, talking to his children or grandchildren; ultimately he too may ask the same questions regarding his own fate. What do I really know of my great grandmother or, even better, her great grandmother? I wonder to myself, was she funny, what worried her in life, what made her laugh and of all the things that would allow me to know her for the person she was, all of which are entirely forgotten today.
I was at a cemetery recently which dated back to the 1400s. It’s odd to think about those people, most of who are completely forgotten in every possible sense. In all likelihood, many of them had these same thoughts at one point or another.
All of these questions and thoughts have no resolution, except death itself, so more than anything, they drive you back, as quickly as possible, to those things understood- the things that make the days go by quickly, pleasantly and, for some, even enjoyably.
I don’t have a reason for writing this post other than I think on some level it makes me feel better. I don’t think typing these thoughts will lead to clarity. I’m typing this post in a park and its starting to drizzle so I’m off for now…
… so it’s 1am and I’m back in the same park and decided to end this post. From all of this, the only thing I can take away from these thoughts is the desire to do something meaningful-something that will impact the world, although I'm not even entirely sure what I mean by this. More importantly, I'm not really sure that this is really significant, and maybe I shouldn’t question these things too much. Some people do this through music, through charity, through art and in so many ways. I’m not sure how I will accomplish this or even if I will, or if it’s important, which on some level I doubt as well, but the drive to engage in something meaningful keeps resurfacing- do something real, do something important.
In general regarding life itself, I more and more see the smallness of it all, the smallness of financial success, of friendship, of family, and of relationships. These feel like different activities or relationships engaged in to help pass the time in the most tolerable and even enjoyable fashion. Concurrent with this, we're always concerned about how people perceive us and how we perceive ourselves. As a result, we engage in a constant struggle to define ourselves and our purpose in life, even if not on any overt level, through our success, family or the attainment of position or power. Not very often, we look up, distancing ourselves from the noise that is our daily existence, and ask what is going on here. More often than not, this questioning is fleeting; with the arrival of the next day, we bury the question in some remote corner of our mind and resume those activities that keep us busy-- moving closer to the point where we will no longer exist, which brings me to me next thought.
It’s interesting to recognize that after we die, the memory of who we really were will eventually cease to exist. In the end, some of us are remembered for the things accomplished, works published, or contributions made, but the memory of who we really were -our fears, desires, and hopes --slowly disappears soon after our death, presuming it was ever really known to begin with. I make these statements as if on some level I feel the memory of us keeps us alive but I recognize the silliness of this as well. I guess I simply find it difficult to even understand what it means for a world to continue in my absence. The people who were closest to you will remember what you were like and have some sense of your inner being but those people too will eventually die and there will be a time where none of your essence will be remembered at all.
I look at my 4 month old nephew, and wonder what he will remember of me when he is elderly, talking to his children or grandchildren; ultimately he too may ask the same questions regarding his own fate. What do I really know of my great grandmother or, even better, her great grandmother? I wonder to myself, was she funny, what worried her in life, what made her laugh and of all the things that would allow me to know her for the person she was, all of which are entirely forgotten today.
I was at a cemetery recently which dated back to the 1400s. It’s odd to think about those people, most of who are completely forgotten in every possible sense. In all likelihood, many of them had these same thoughts at one point or another.
All of these questions and thoughts have no resolution, except death itself, so more than anything, they drive you back, as quickly as possible, to those things understood- the things that make the days go by quickly, pleasantly and, for some, even enjoyably.
I don’t have a reason for writing this post other than I think on some level it makes me feel better. I don’t think typing these thoughts will lead to clarity. I’m typing this post in a park and its starting to drizzle so I’m off for now…
… so it’s 1am and I’m back in the same park and decided to end this post. From all of this, the only thing I can take away from these thoughts is the desire to do something meaningful-something that will impact the world, although I'm not even entirely sure what I mean by this. More importantly, I'm not really sure that this is really significant, and maybe I shouldn’t question these things too much. Some people do this through music, through charity, through art and in so many ways. I’m not sure how I will accomplish this or even if I will, or if it’s important, which on some level I doubt as well, but the drive to engage in something meaningful keeps resurfacing- do something real, do something important.