182

“It is what it is.”

Indeed, perhaps it is. Why fight the inherent nature of the world around us? Why bother trying to change what we cannot change?

But the only problem is that we rarely know the true meaning of what it is. The trap of this lazy form of stoicism becomes apparent when we consider the fact that we are often unable to reliably discern what something actually is, what we can or cannot change, and that we misjudge what is or isn’t worth changing in the first place; this is not only because we are pitifully bad at foreseeing and mapping out the consequences of our actions, but also because we repeatedly underestimate ourselves and excessively feed our self-doubt. Lest we continue to banalize this adage to use as a means of justifying our complacency.

181

I’ve always wondered what the sensation of unfettered empathy is actually like. If we were somehow able to condense this peculiar experience of life of an individual—the culmination of all the reminiscences, all the emotional trauma, all the disparate fragments of memories, fears, hopes, frustrations, and desires—and for just a moment, just be another person—not vicariously, as we might through imagination, but actually tangibly comprehend the incomprehensibly complex sensation of living another life. This hypothetical scenario piques my interest because it is effectively a cheat code to the maddeningly difficult task of empathizing; as someone that tries with all their heart and mind to understand the feelings of others, to experience those feelings firsthand would constitute an unparalleled, almost unimaginable profundity of empathy.

As much as I am enthralled by such an idea, I remember that this act of navigating uncertainty in our relationships—the very circumstances created by not knowing what we each feel and think—lies at the heart of the human condition. As much as we despise misunderstanding, fear contempt, and dread conflict, we must remind ourselves constantly that these are indispensable components of stories that we build together. For as much as we might despise the notion of conflict without resolution, resolution without conflict makes even less sense.

180

Some time back, I said,

“Remember to have hope, but also remember—losing it will do you no harm.”

It is not because those with hope and those hopeless face the same exact fate. The extent of our hope, or our hopelessness, predisposes us towards certain outcomes over others. The crux of the matter lies in the fact that in either case we fail again and again to reliably predict the outcomes, let alone judge whether those outcomes are good or bad.

179

In every moment, there is a chance to make things better. And every moment that passes with neither decision nor resolution, we are actively perpetuating the status quo, consigning ourselves to complacency and mediocrity.

It is one thing to merely accept the status quo and our own failures to valiantly answer our calling, but we should heap shame upon ourselves every time that we groan and lament the reality that things aren’t better.

178

And just like that, you ravaged my sense of comfort, wrested my heart from the abyss, and eradicated my complacency,

For that, I am endlessly grateful. And I wouldn’t ask for any part of it to have happened differently.

177

Self-doubt is a good thing.

We might just be better off if we humbly approach everything that we do in this life thinking that we’re wrong, and that we’re in constantly in a place to learn, improve, and hone our ability to discern and to interpret the world and others with nuance, sensitivity, and seriousness.

It is only when it is combined with cynicism that it becomes a bane on humanity and an inimical force opposed to truth. When we neither believe in ourselves nor in other people, there is nothing left to believe in, and no story to write. It is a guaranteed pathway to misery, discontentment, and purposelessness.

If we do not choose to believe in ourselves, at least choose to believe in someone we trust. And if there’s no one to trust now, then we best set off to find them.

176

Three components of a just and upright approach to relationships:

Patience—to let our stories pan out beyond the first chapter, to give someone the benefit of the doubt, to give ourselves enough time to see things as they are.

Forgiveness—to spurn an unwarranted, preemptive degeneration of our perception of others, to cultivate a lucid awareness of our circumstances, and why we did what we did.

Humility—to allow ourselves to freely navigate around the truth—not the truth navigating around us.

175

Every moment is a chance to change—to make ourselves and the world around us better. And yet we keep choosing not to. Second after second, minute after minute, hour by hour, day by day, we keep repeatedly rejecting our calling.

How is that we do not feel complicit? How is it that we feel no shame? How is it that we do not feel as though we are part of the problem? How can we muster any dignity within ourselves to lambaste those around us, let alone criticize the world?

174

Cherish moments of unfettered happiness—the type of joy devoid of doubt, free from questioning, undeserving of scrutiny, and untainted by the desire to know, to be certain, to be right—for these moments are few, and far between.

173

The problem with preparing for the worst and hoping for the best is that often we do not have the time or the premonition to properly prepare, that we dare not imagine the horrors or the agony of what is truly the worst, that our hope predisposes us to the sting of failure and suffering, and that we seldom understand what is best for us.