Imperfection

For a long time, I conformed to the conventional perspective of determining a romantic partner— concocting absurd requirements and exactifying the specific traits that one should possess, drawing countless arbitrary boundaries and assigning red flags to any undesirable action, and obsessing over the circumstances that build up into any form of relationship.

But knowing what I know now about human nature and the human condition, could I be so oblivious to blithely approach any human interaction, romantic or platonic, expecting the other person to be perfect in any conceivable way? To be without flaw nor fault in character? To be without scar nor blemish? To be without trauma nor vice?

In the same way that suffering is an indispensable component of a fulfilling life, imperfection is an indispensable component of a fulfilling relationship. It is what gives it color and shape, a mission and a meaning, and ultimately a story to be told.

The right thing to do

It’s a strange feeling—to realize that the right thing to do, is exactly what feels the most wrong.

Instead of doing what I set out to do, here I am, huddled up in blankets and doubting my own abilities and intuition. The resistance within me balks at the thought of change, at the thought of strenuous labor, at the thought that I might just have to keep my promises.

Our feelings can only serve as weak indicators of right and wrong. Lest we forget that it is of an anachronistic design, part of a biological system that is completely out of place in our complex societal context. It wants security, comfort, and predictability to ensure survival—rather, what it perceives as survival. To trust it to determine our life decisions would be no less foolish than entrusting it a roll of the dice—merely hoping that we have the right emotion at the right moment.

Patience and Desperation

This life demands that we simultaneously understand how to be patient, and how to be desperate. But we cannot claim to understand what to be patient for, and what to be desperate for, simply by analyzing the surface. There are things that seem exigent but can wait, and there are other things that can wait but seem exigent. To discern between the two is a skill invaluable to the human being that heeds their calling.

Making sense

We can only make sense of the present through the past. But that assumes that the present will always resemble the past.

And, more importantly, we assume that we can make sense of it at all.

I must not fight back

Amid great pain or great sadness, I must remember my guiding principles—to engender these thoughts in the back of my mind:

Even if all is lost, I know that loss is transient and fleeting, and leads to unexpected pathways in life.

Even if I have to endure a trial, I know that if something is endurable, I will endure it.

Even if I have to suffer, I know that suffering is an integral part of a life worth living.

I must not fight back against how I feel.

To be aware that it exists, and that there’s nothing more I can do about it, is enough.

Color

“The soul is dyed the color of its thoughts. Think only on those things that are in line with your principles and can bear the light of day. The content of your character is your choice. Day by day, what you do is who you become. Your integrity is your destiny—it is the light that guides your way.”

― Heraclitus

It may seem trivial—these internal monologues, these whimsical rants, and these petty frustrations we have with the world around us—but, as I’ve always argued, everything we do in this life is ultimately a trade-off.

If we decide to do something, we are equally deciding to not do something else.

In the same way, if we decide to think about something, we are equally deciding to not think about something else.

Is this what my life was meant for? To ponder trivialities, to occupy my mind with the inconsequential, to burden my soul with things that I am in no position to change? I may try to concoct an intricate excuse—that these thoughts are merely for fun, for humor, for satisfying my curiosity. But at the end of the day, these thoughts and these feelings are who I am; they are what I intend on presenting to my fellow human beings and they are what I devote my heart and soul into, regardless of how much is devoted.

If it doesn’t waste time, it wastes away the soul.

Suffer, to merely suffer

For the privileged among us, the problem is rarely that the suffering itself is excessive; it is that we disproportionately choose suffering over joy, and that we suffer to merely suffer.

Suffering is rarely bad in and of itself; it is a necessary component of life. But far too much of that suffering is devoted towards obsessing over our status, legacy, and material possessions, towards bathing our consciousness in anxiety and imaginary misery, towards implicating one another in ugliness in the form of petty arguments, feuds, and absurd conflicts, and towards occupying our minds not with the guiding light of morality and reason, but excessively with nebulous and capricious emotions.

Everything must be in balance in this life, in this society, in this world, in this universe.

And to live our lives that way, is to live a life out of balance.

No end

Indeed, there is no end to the things we can suffer from.

But we seldom remember there is also no end to the things we can derive joy from.

In my mind

If in my mind, I know something is the right thing to say and I know something is the right thing to do, to feel guilt, to feel regret, to feel shame for doing it—it is all but futile, all but striving against the wind, all but an insurrection against truth. To endure the guilt, the regret, the shame—even if artificial and self-imposed—these may be among the bravest things I do in this life.

Toil and grief

Although my emotions have undoubtedly led me down a path of toil and grief, lest I forget toil and grief were, after all, my greatest teachers.