To Be or Not To Be
A little kingdom I possess,
Where thoughts and feelings dwell;
And very hard the task I find
Of governing it well.
~ Louisa May Alcott
...that more or less describes my situation!
Saturday, October 16, 2021
A while ago, someone I look up to, gave me a piece of advice. He said I should pick my battles because if everything is important to me then it could seem like nothing is. I understood his point but my counterpoint is this: we cannot be who we are in one thing or big things, it permeates everything if they are genuinely and earnestly held values. As Aristotle said, excellence is not an act but a habit and I become who I am because I follow through my principles consistently. It's to say that if I care about honesty, I am going to be motivated to be honest in general, not one day when hundreds of lives are at stake because that's who I am. If I think critically, I am going to apply it generally, not just in a high stakes essay.
However, lately I feel that my approach and the world I live in are not in sync. If I were living in ancient Greece where everyone was concerned about living a virtuous life and where engaging in philosophical contemplation was the highest form of life or life well lived, I would be living in my kind of world indeed. But the truth is I am living in a world where the average person's concerns stretch to how to spend the weekend, and beyond that to other materialistic life goals that are hard enough to achieve. Of course I have enough materialistic goals myself to make light of them. My point is not about having those goals but rather than people in today's world are all consumed by them. Thinking for the sake of learning or pursuing inquiry for the sake of discovery might be deemed a waste of time or time that doesn't fall into either fun or gain. It does fall into fun/pleasure/gain for me. It is why it never crosses my mind that I need to "pick a battle" or choose the things I belabour about because I don't see it as a battle at all; I see it as critical thinking or learning or discovering, for myself and the other person.
I am realising though that because I am at cross-purposes with others who want to simply get on with the everyday business of living life instead of wrestling with intellectual or moral or analytical conundrums, I need to modify my approach. Mainly because if there is no mutual pleasure in these explorations or no mutual concern with developing rigorous thinking habits, it is not something to be imposed on others. The question is how do I not lose myself while being respectful of others' divergent priorities? That's something I am chewing on. One technique could be to ponder or dive deep about things on my own without involving other people (unless they show interest)--which is where this blog comes in too. If they say something that is blatantly misguided, I could consider how important that particular point is in the overall scheme of things. Obviously to me it is very important because I'd rather know than not know. But like I said, such is not the case for most. There is a higher likelihood they will take offence or wonder why I am analysing such a small thing. In other words, I need to pick my battles. I need to think of ways to at least appear more in sync with the world if I am to not constantly collide with it, while keeping a space within myself to engage in what gives me true happiness.
Sunday, October 10, 2021
You have humbled me
But not so fast
I am not broken
And I have been
Bent to breaking point
Before and before
But I rose
The path of proving
What I am made of
I could have
Crumbled and died
An exhausted part
In me asked
Why go on
To be torn and rent and spent
By mediocre tribes
Who themselves have
So very little
To speak for themselves
But the other part
The one who never quits
Never gives up
I was bent
Before and many times before
And how I rose up
Soaring in the very faces
That looked down on me
And it was beneath me
Even to laugh
At these mediocrities
And now again
God brings me
To this brink
To this tiring path
Shall I give up
How many times do I
Keep proving, God?
Isn't it time finally
For my reward
But clearly not
For I must yet again
And deep down I know
I will stay on course
What if I have no reward
To motivate me
Of proving them wrong
Will carry me
They who think
I am down and out
Shall see me
Sunday, October 03, 2021
I engaged a Person A and a Person B for some contractual work in two different cultural contexts. The difference in the way they approached their jobs intrigued me. Even more so because Person A’s fees was around 50 pounds and Person B’s over 500. Obviously with Person B, my expectations were much higher and the job far more critical.
Person A’s approach I would describe as ‘personal’. She was actually trying to close a deal for me for more than a year now. Though the payment is based on a closed deal, the amount of effort she had to go through for over a year with deals going half-way and not materialising or falling through seemed to me far beyond what one would expect within the scope of such work. But not even once did she tell me that she was doing more than what she is expected to and not even once did she ask me for compensation during the year. In fact, she paid certain bills that I was due to pay without asking me to pay her first. Her attitude impressed me and made me think about the relationship I had with her in terms of trust rather than in terms of contractual agreement. I also thought to myself that I would pay her more than what we might have initially agreed. I suppose that’s how you feel when someone goes above and beyond.
Coming to Person B, the experience was exactly the opposite. I would describe the approach as ‘transactional’. Not going into much detail I would say that the focus here was on the number of hours worked or billed, and not on ensuring that the spirit of the contract, which was to deliver up to my standard, was honoured. To deliver in a way that it delights or makes the customer finally happy even if it means working more hours is what Person A did. That is my personal approach too because ultimately I am more concerned with the fact that my work is appreciated rather than that I am paid more. Many times I have even been gently scolded for this but I don’t think I would like to be like Person B. If anything, Person A made me see the merit of the personal approach even more clearly, to not count minutes and pennies... And even if one is looking at gain, I think Person A will always profit more in the long run because I will keep going to her and I will recommend her services to whoever will ask and I will be there for her should she need me for anything anytime. However, my first interaction with Person B is also my last. Short-term gain maybe, but long-term loss.
Monday, September 20, 2021
I am not a spontaneous person when it comes to action but sometimes I make up for it in communication with rather disastrous results. I lay much stock by directness and honesty but it seems to me it can take the shape of unkindness if I am not careful. Recently I made a comment on social media which later I couldn’t really justify to myself. This is strange because logic is sort of the spirit that animates whatever I say so it is rarely, if ever, that I can’t explain the logic of what I said. The logic may be open to contestation but it would still be logical from my perspective. In this case, I didn’t think what I said was all that logical if I saw it from a broader perspective—which I tend to do. But what’s more, it also seemed like an unkind statement to me. To say something illogical out of kindness would also be logical to me in a sense but to say something illogical and unkind… now that stumped me. One explanation could be that I have too many things on my mind these days and that perhaps caused me to not think through what I was saying.
Later someone responded to me to mind my own house first because they thought my statement had the same inconsistencies that I was pointing out unkindly. That wasn’t strictly true and I said as much but something about the exchange lingered in my mind… I pride myself on my ability to think critically but this made me ponder: 1. How can I develop a mode of critiquing that shows a sensitivity to human fallibilities including my own, and 2. Given that any piece of anything can potentially be critiqued in one way or another for something or the other, how do I direct my critique to the productive or progressive rather than merely corrective or irrelevant?
Like the ancient Romans commanded the words “Memento Mori” (“remember that you must die”) to be whispered into their ears to keep them grounded, so too I will whisper these words, “mind your own house first” to myself when I deploy my critique. I admire humility in others and this might be a way to incorporate some myself.
Friday, September 17, 2021
I didn’t realise it was THIS long since I have ignored the blog. I have been very preoccupied with something. I cannot say what it is but when it comes about you might be one of the first to know. Some of my previous posts refer to the “journey” I am on so to speak and I am navigating the twists and turns—in a positive way so far—is all I can say for now.
Recently when I was thinking about destiny, as I do, this Hindi kahawat (proverb) popped in my head: “daane daane pe likha hai khaane waale ka naam”. Meaning, on every grain of rice is written the name of the one who will eat it. As I contemplate whether certain grains of rice are going to come my way, I tell myself that it is already written, whether they will come or not. All I can do is to do my best and hope that the outcome is written in my favour. I have mentioned this before that the very thinking so or believing that it is in my favour could cause my actions to be better positioned for that outcome… which is why I hope for the best. Let’s see…
Friday, August 20, 2021
I chanced upon this short story Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes. I found it quite absorbing but more than that it touched me on an emotional level. It is about this young man, Charlie, who is intellectually underdeveloped and who is made a participant in a psychological experiment to exponentially increase intelligence. The entire story is in the form of “progress reports”, something like diary entries, that Charlie writes from the beginning of the experiment to the end. I do not want to get into the end in case you, dear reader, feel tempted to read this story for yourself. What I found really poignant is how his new-found intelligence makes Charlie see the world in a very different light. Simple as the story is, it actually made me think about how different cognitive capacities engage with and interpret the world, and how their ability to make sense of it in one way or another might cause them to experience life itself differently.
Here’s an excerpt:
"All right! All right, you dope," shouted the owner, "don't just stand there!
Get the broom and sweep that mess up. A broom… a broom, you idiot! It's in the kitchen. Sweep up all the pieces."
The boy saw that he was not going to be punished. His frightened expression disappeared and he smiled and hummed as he came back with the broom to sweep the floor. A few of the rowdier customers kept up the remarks, amusing themselves at his expense.
"Here, sonny, over here there's a nice piece behind you ..."
"C'mon, do it again ..."
"He's not so dumb. It's easier to break 'em than to wash 'em ..."
As his vacant eyes moved across the crowd of amused onlookers, he slowly mirrored their smiles and finally broke into an uncertain grin at the joke which he obviously did not understand.
I felt sick inside as I looked at his dull, vacuous smile, the wide, bright eyes of a child, uncertain but eager to please. They were laughing at him because he was mentally retarded.
And I had been laughing at him too.
Suddenly, I was furious at myself and all those who were smirking at him. I jumped up and shouted, "Shut up! Leave him alone! It's not his fault he can't understand! He can't help what he is! But for God's sake ... he's still a human being!"
The room grew silent. I cursed myself for losing control and creating a scene. I tried not to look at the boy as I paid my check and walked out without touching my food. I felt ashamed for both of us.
How strange it is that people of honest feelings and sensibility, who would not take advantage of a man born without arms or legs or eyes—how such people think nothing of abusing a man born with low intelligence. It infuriated me to think that not too long ago I, like this boy, had foolishly played the clown.
And I had almost forgotten.
I'd hidden the picture of the old Charlie Gordon from myself because now that I was intelligent it was something that had to be pushed out of my mind. But today in looking at that boy, for the first time I saw what I had been.
I was just like him!
Only a short time ago, I learned that people laughed at me. Now I can see that unknowingly I joined with them in laughing at myself. That hurts most of all.
I have often reread my progress reports and seen the illiteracy, the childish naïveté, the mind of low intelligence peering from a dark room, through the keyhole, at the dazzling light outside. I see that even in my dullness I knew that I was inferior, and that other people had something I lacked—something denied me. In my mental blindness, I thought that it was somehow connected with the ability to read and write, and I was sure that if I could get those skills I would automatically have intelligence too.
Even a feeble-minded man wants to be like other men.
A child may not know how to feed itself, or what to eat, yet it knows of hunger.
Sunday, August 15, 2021
I was at Sainsbury's today to do my fortnightly "big shop" as they call it here. Yes, I know I have been referring to supermarkets, foods, etc. a lot these days but what with pandemic enforced living, it's not a surprise I assume? :) But to move on... I love grocery shopping in general (even before the pandemic ;)) and one of the things I enjoy is browsing through novel items. I usually pick one or two things that I haven't tried before, say a new variety of biscuit or chips (crisps here) or cheese or what have you. It's always a bit of a gamble-- either I'll find something I like so much that it will become part of my routine shop or I will hate it so much that I'll either force myself to eat it somehow or I'll reluctantly and guiltily throw it away. Today when I was picking something interesting and a bit on the expensive side, I was hit with a pang of anticipated guilt in case it's not to my taste. And then I thought to myself that I wouldn't be able to broaden my tastes or learn about new foods if I didn't take such risks. I decided to chalk up the expense to learning something new.
This led to a light bulb realisation. The more monetary risks I am able to afford, the more I am able to learn! Take for example starting a new venture and the learning that comes with it even if one fails or going for an expensive training programme, being okay with not making use of that knowledge. The more one is able to give oneself up to new experiences without worrying about the costs involved, the more one learns and the more one grows in that sense.
Of course, I don't mean to say this spending is the only path to learning. In fact, not having resources could mean one learns a completely different set of skills formidable in their own way. Creative problem solving, for example. One can't get something new easily so one tries to make creative use of what one already has. In this food context, maybe you make new dishes of stuff you have in the kitchen instead of buying something new.
Which brings me to another of my points. Because I have been brought up in a household and environment where we lived in relative austerity, where we learnt never to waste or throw away food, where we utilised things to the extent we could and found use for the leftovers even... It doesn't quite sit well with me to waste or discard anything and that is why I feel extremely guilty if I have to do it.
I have come to the conclusion though that neither extreme is good. To waste things indiscriminately without a second thought is not good and to be so hung up about conserving things that your enjoyment and pleasure doesn't count is also not good. I try to feel less guilty if I have to get rid of something that just doesn't give me any joy. I also try to use more discretion so I don't have to waste or get rid of anything, and if I have to, then I give some thought to possible uses before I do it. It never feels easy on my conscience to waste or throw or discard.
Interestingly, it strikes me that the two ways in which learning occurs that I just put forward can be distilled to abundance or scarcity with regard to money. Suggests the kind of times we live in?
Saturday, August 14, 2021
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
~ J. R. R. Tolkein
Thursday, August 12, 2021
Expectations. They always trip me up. Is it possible to not have expectations of anyone who means anything to us? Maybe this is why it's liberating to be indifferent to people; you have no expectations and you are never disappointed. At best there are lovely surprises and at worst it's water down the duck's back. It doesn't matter.
But even the most indifferent person can't help but have a few people who are close to their heart. And you have expectations from those few people. And you will be disappointed. Not because they want to disappoint you or don't want to meet your expectations... but mostly because different people have different ways to show they care, to show you matter to them. It might seem like they fall short of your expectations if that's all you are focusing on but if you focus on their actions instead maybe you will see they are trying very hard to meet your expectations in their own way. Sometimes we lose sight of this... or at least I do. We prefer to believe people couldn't care less and we want to convince ourselves they don't. We want to look for what confirms these beliefs than that which is to the contrary. It can be self-fulfilling sometimes. Maybe it's good to keep our expectations aside even when we have them... and let people choose their own kind of way to our hearts.
Sunday, August 08, 2021
My house smells of milk today. A large can jumped out of the fridge while I was arranging all my groceries. It was a shock in the moment because I rarely tend to have such accidents. A river of milk started flowing and crawling all over the floor while I just stared mutely realising that this was the first time in my life—very strangely—that I would have to singlehandedly cope with such an event. I froze with the thought of how to fix it. If you have done it before you know what to do but for me this was unprecedented. I first tried cleaning it with tissue papers and it was evidently a bad idea. Then I got a towel and squeezed it into a bucket. Memory very faintly suggested that that's what people did back home. It worked. Slowly I realised that I have a mop and bucket and that would sort this even better. So I finally cleaned up the remaining white patches and blotches with a mop.
I guess when something unexpected happens we are transported to similar experiences we might have had earlier. This milk incident sort of made me think about how whenever something like this occurred back home there were always people who "took care of it". Magically everything that needed to be done was done. Today it felt like I was confronting this "problem" for the first time with none of those who just dealt with it around... it felt strange. Unlike theoretical problems that I resolve as a matter of course every day, this practical problem made me feel a bit stumped because I had very little history of dealing with it. Which is why I felt a little proud of myself for rising to the occasion albeit a bit late. I know what to do if it happens again so I feel like I gained something. But at the same time I felt my heart grow a bit heavy… thinking of those who took on all practical worries to give me a life of some ease…
Monday, August 02, 2021
I was watching this Spanish Netflix series Three Days of Christmas which started with a thought that's been on my mind. It said that we truly live only in childhood, after that it's just memories. Lately when I go to sleep I have flashes of memories of all sorts of past events, moments, times. It's like a pastiche of ordinary and poignant stuff, and me looking on at myself... wishing I could go back and relive some of these moments. I feel like I didn't fully appreciate them. I don't know if it's the pandemic that's brought this on because it all starts with me wishing I could be home... and then thinking about people at home, our former times... I don't know if things were normal I would still be experiencing this yearning for the old, or if it's just a regular part of growing older... where the more time elapses, the more memories beckon. Or maybe it's just me... this blog isn't named nostalgica for nothing ;)
What if we had two lives and we could apply the lessons we learnt in one life to the next? Some would say that already happens if you were to believe in rebirth, but then you don't consciously remember anything so how do you apply the lessons? What if one could remember, what if you didn't have only one shot at everything, what if you could do things all over again... what would you do differently? Like some sort of hindsight being applied forward. In the other life new events would happen so how useful would this hindsight really be? Don't we keep making the same mistakes even though we learn lessons in the past? Some we do, some we don't.
I would cherish a lot of moments more, I feel... but what would it mean to cherish them more? I couldn't make them stop! How would it be to cherish more if I just thought of it as a moment I love and that won't come back...wouldn't it be even less of living that specific moment? The hard fact is there's nothing one can do to hold or grasp a moment... it slips like sand from our fingers as they say. Maybe these memories I have, that is the only thing one can cherish... like the feel of the sand even after it slips through... that no one can take away from me.
Saturday, July 24, 2021
Recently something struck me when I was looking through the shelves at Marks and Spencer’s for my usual desert option, jam and cream horns. I tried to imagine the taste of this desert and I didn’t feel particularly stimulated or excited. I realised that I was going for it mainly because it is tried and tested. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it spectacularly and in fact the last few times I have bought it I have almost felt… nothing. So why do I choose to buy it and not something different, something I have never tasted, something whose taste I can’t even imagine… maybe it would surprise me? Thus goaded, I pushed myself to buy something completely different, ended up buying a blueberry jam filled muffin, and was severely disappointed. I got my answer right there ;) The jam and cream horns may not take me to heaven for the nth time now but they won’t make me fall flat on earth either.
Since having this realisation, I have been consciously testing it on other stuff. I have this yearning for ice cream when I watch Netflix after dinner. It happens to be really late in the night say 1.00 am or so and I try to divert my thoughts to other things like fruit but my mind keeps conjuring the image of an ice cream. In spite of deciding to have it only over weekends almost every night I have to ward off thoughts of ice cream :( But when I try to consciously imagine the taste of ice cream I get the sense that I am almost compelled to think about it out of custom rather than because I actually want to have it.
I am not sure how to interpret this. I mean, I obviously do enjoy the jam and cream horns and ice cream—I take particular care to buy the exact brand and flavour of ice cream I like after all. But there’s something else to it and I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s about sort of doing something for the sake of doing it because I have done it before. The buying or having a different thing feels quite distressful compared to the comfort of knowledge and routine; it’s like one is seeking that comfort rather than the thing itself.
Friday, July 16, 2021
I am coming to the end of a long journey soon. Maybe it will take more than a few months but there is an end looming in the distance, the summit is finally visible, the last few miles have to be traversed. I must soon be there. The hardest stretch is behind me now and if I am at this point I am likely to reach the end. What happens after that is another matter but a big milestone would have been achieved...
Even when I didn't have the end in sight, unlike most people who worry about scaling the summit, my concern was always about the stage after that. I knew that no matter what or when, I would reach that goal if I kept going. I never had any doubt about eventually reaching it because all things remaining the same it seemed to be largely in my control. The phase after that though seems like unknown territory where I am going to need all the help I can get from the fates...
I don't want to seem churlish and annoy fate. I have had an illusion of control all this while because all things did stay the same more or less, discounting the pandemic of course ;) If they hadn't, I couldn't have single-mindedly focused on the mountain. Fate has been very kind to me indeed no matter how much I complain. It has been kindest to me in bringing me a source of support on this journey. I might have made this journey anyway but I wouldn’t be able to look back and forward with the sort of positivity and gratitude that I feel now. For that I have much to thank fate.
Maybe the future uncertain and difficult phase will also sort itself out. I wrote a post at the start of this journey that I intend to "be like the sparrow" referred to in the Bible. It does not have a care in the world and is still taken care of. Can't say it's in my nature to "not have a care" but I must remind myself that I have been cared for like the sparrow through this all... there is no reason why I won't be when it comes time to test my wings a bit more...
Tuesday, July 13, 2021
I randomly thought of this phrase "stewing in my own soup" the other day. I loved it so much that I wanted to write a post expressly to use it. But the last week or more has been busier than usual. One of those weeks where my thoughts haven't had the time or space to float. They have been focused on my research problem. Good thing too because I finished what I needed to in record time!
Something happened today to lower my mood. I tend to feel injustice very acutely. People seem to have this attitude of running roughshod over others because, well, they can. Given a teeny bit of power they don't seem to think twice before using it to gag those in their power or control them. It boggles my mind. Usually those who don't have innate wisdom will do this because being given power artificially is the only way they'll ever be able to wield it. Not with their thoughts or with their deeds. It pains me though to see it and not be in a position to do anything about it, to see injustice happen. It makes me feel guilty, complicit in some way... though I speak up. But I cannot do anything, change anything. It makes me wonder how to live in society, in structures where I will always be powerless, always have to watch mute or even if I speak up, I might not be heard. I cannot detach from the social world in entirety... then what do I do? Many people seem to just live detachedly. What doesn't affect them doesn't matter to them. It's not about me so what do I care. That's the attitude. But I am glad that's not me. I'd rather speak, act, feel... for justice, truth, empathy... even if it doesn't ease anything or anyone... It is better than being dead inside, it seems to me, dead to all that is human in one.
Tuesday, June 22, 2021
Do you ever feel inadequate, dear reader? Not inadequate at something but generally inadequate...? Incomprehensibly so. Like a bicycle that doesn't know how to move its wheels? I feel sometimes... like I can't function or the way I know how to function doesn't work. I know it's my imagination. I think it's not so much that I can't move my wheels but the people looking on... they make me suspect that I can't. I can't tell if they are people who don't understand bicycles or people who do and I am not running quite right...
I have been thinking about cultivating more silence in my life. Seems odd even as I write this because I speak quite little on a day to day because I hardly interact with people these days. But I don't mean silence as mere spoken words—or written words because I am pretty prolific on that count. But silence in place of objectifying my thinking in a given situation. It comes naturally to me this externalising my thinking... but I wonder if there's merit in moulding this attitude inward. I say moulding it as if I am as malleable as clay when I am quite the contrary! But as a thought experiment... I am thinking about what that would mean. Usually when confronted with an opinion/question in real life or virtual my tendency is to project my thinking. It's faster than a flash. I myself am not aware of any processing taking place. I wonder what would happen if I chewed on what is thrown my way on the inside? I wonder if there's more peace in not crowding myself in the external world? Inside, you are you, you are understood, you needn't justify, you needn't prove your intentions... outside feels chaotic, like noise, like cacophony... drowning the purity of thoughts and making it something grotesque in the bargain.
I don't know though how to shift my focus from the chaos, the noise, the chimera of outside... to serenity, peace, sublimity, silence of the inside. I wonder if the key lies in listening rather than speaking... reflecting rather than reacting... being more in communion with myself than the trivialities of the outside? Maybe it also lies in a sort of general detachment... the more I am attached, the more I care, the more I want to be seen as someone who knows how to move her wheels, the more I seem to hang on the outside, cling to it like I might fall off a cliff if it didn't hold me. I suppose if I wasn't attached to it at all, if I saw it with faint amusement as one not involved in it at all, it would have no power over me? Because I have inside, there I am who I am and what I am, no one can take it away from me. It is rock solid and plentiful in itself... It is where I am truly free.