I Was Wrong About The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

A truth that has now become an illusion.

Lots of truths aren’t exactly truths on an external scale. We can’t quantify or validate them in reality. They’re mere reflections of who we are; intimate and unique in each individual and volatile as time itself — amplifying our feelings from speck to stone.

Out of such truths, I’ve had to let go of the truth of the tunnel. You know the saying “look for the light at the end of the tunnel,” where the goal is worth the effort. The plan is worth the pain. The dreams are worth the nightmares.

The awareness of this truth and its contradiction was placed well in my mind. And out of it came the realization of why it no longer fits with my discovering self. The capacity to see the good in bad defeats the manifestation of bad into something (anything) that is certainly good.

Because I know that one’s becoming and discovering in and of life isn’t simple. Nor is it short-lived and certain. It’s the ability to look at things objectively, even more so after reading Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead (for the second time), that I chose to dissolve this truth.

(You can read my thoughts on the book here)

It isn’t enough to expect a reaction out of an action. Not negating the fact that every movement, in reality, is an echo or a whisper through time and space. While this may be true, I have lost my expectations for a subjective reality in which only “I” exist. Hence, I choose to re-consider my defense for and against my objective reality.

Imagine a moment where you see the light at the end of the tunnel but you no longer where you were, in the tunnel. You’re everywhere — at the beginning and at the end. So what you’re seeing is not light, but only a part of you; a flicker of you.

The negative (darkness of the tunnel) holds the key to perspective. To broad-mindedness that only a bad outcome carries. And if we were to acknowledge it as “a part of the process” or as something that has a “higher cause,” we’re wrecking its ability to help us grow.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
— Anais Nin

Pain is a negative ability externalized as being the antidote to maturity. None of us were wiser before than when we stood the storm. We fought our battles; we broke the ice. In that course, the parable is not which is the least painful to endure. It is whether something is painful, if at all.

There are many things, like this, that brings us to the beginning of pain. Things that are very likely to frighten us; that we go ahead and do anyway. Is the denial of the pain (or the endurance of it) for a higher cause — a moment of satisfaction greater than a lifetime of melancholy? I beg to differ.

My pain — which is, after all, what I feel and internalize — isn’t a validation of my joy. They’re two separate qualities (beings perhaps) co-existing inside me. And I choose to externalize them the way I want to.

“We suffer more often in imagination than in reality.”
– Seneca

Keeping an eye on how pain needs to be felt to be let go. This refined truth of anticipating the good and (not versus) the bad; and our habit of reimagining our pain as an experience meaningful in itself, without having any effect, is the way of embracing our true selves. And it’s the way I separate my imagination from my reality.

On Understanding Our Subjective And Objective Reality

In Arthur Schopenhauer’s The Wisdom of Life. The sense of self as the most distinctive and defining aspect of human life.

Do you believe that we are always constant with a specific pattern in life? We change rhythmically but our roots cling to the same soil? The same source of life — water?

To meditate on such an existential and personal thought forms the basis of one of the most influential and philosophical essays of Arthur Schopenhauer. Today, I contemplate on The Wisdom of Life’s subject of a person’s objective and subjective reality.

The following passages, which can be found at the beginning of The Wisdom of Life, are confounding and comforting to the mind. It brings to light the fact that no changes in any circumstances can align one’s internal perception, emotions, and thoughts to another. And no change in one’s internal world can influence that of another. Assuming that we are fellow passengers on the same train.

…all of which rests upon the fact that every event, in order to be realized and appreciated, requires the co-operation of two factors, namely, a subject and an object, although these are as closely and necessarily connected as oxygen and hydrogen in water. When therefore the objective or external factor in an experience is actually the same, but the subjective or personal appreciation of it varies, the event is just as much a different one in the eyes of different persons as if the objective factors had not been alike.”

We revise our internal world to fit the scale of the external. And in doing so, or trying to, we irrevocably develop our individual and original identities. This is what makes any two persons different in their own ways.

Can you imagine two people, cooped up in the same room from childhood to maturity, being unanimously at odds with each other?

Arthur Schopenhauer has. He has, so eloquently, explained this fact in what constitutes to the ultimate distinction of human life. And this exactly what he wishes to enlighten us with. Consider the following passage:

In plain language, every man is pent up within the limits of his own consciousness, and cannot directly get beyond those limits any more than he can get beyond his own skin; so external aid is not of much use to him.”

We hope to transcend major life lessons such as pain, heartbreak, guilt, and loss. We hope to understand them, mold them, and nurture them. Not for the world that constitutes them. But in order to understand ourselves.

To solidify our nature as the only way to react to what happens outside of us. Throughout this journey, we cling to what guides us forward and we cut loose those strings that hold us back.

Is this, Schopenhauer suggests, the basis of our imagination? Or does this have an actual and objective groundwork in reality? Something that everybody can see and feel together?

The answer to this empirical question lies below:

“Since everything which exists or happens for a man exists only in his consciousness and happens for it alone, the most essential thing for a man is the constitution of this consciousness, which is in most cases far more important than the circumstances which go to form its contents.”

This concludes that self-expression makes the self the deepest layer of our reality. And what happens outside of it forms our circumstances; merely cards that in a game are meant to be dealt with.

The thing that makes life rich to one and dull to another is the realization of the identity surpassing the contents of the world. And to win against this fight we have to learn to connect our mind of today to our mind of yesterday and of tomorrow.

6 Thoughts For The Day

Every act of expression is an act worth sharing.


Rising from the ashes of courage, the mind seeks resolution. In hope, it seeks wisdom. In wisdom, it seeks patience. But what is broke is the singularity of the objective state of mind. And its many patterns and shapes. So if and when one finds conviction and embraces it. It becomes the only understanding of survival.


There’s stillness where there’s chaos. There’s noise where there’s silence. For without the duality of nature — the battle between life and death — there would be no seeking pleasure in existence. As everything would run its inevitable course. And mortality would lose all that is mortal.


We hope, as flawed human beings, to resurrect the feeling of feeling important. Or having a purpose or meaning. But what we’re unaware of is its vague yet conspicuous labyrinth. With only a thousand doors in and a solitary door out.


The mistrust of obedience doesn’t provoke me. Neither does the temptations of pleasure. It’s the way we exist in the world, depending on its unwavering expectations, that I find destructive.


People are not unkind because they’re happy. People are not happy because they are kind. Lurching within is Unforeseen Pain. Untouched yet deeply felt. This pain grows inside until its roots transform the workings of the mind. Like a tree, each movement demands to be seen and felt. And its hardy branches pierce each nerve until the leaves the grow from it are sick with thorns and stench.


You see someone getting injured. I see pain. You see someone shed a tear. I see cruel aloneness. You see someone smile. I see unshakeable strength.


 

We Don’t Belong Anywhere. But We Are Alive

Everything that is alive is a part of nature.

There’s a purpose to your sloth. It may be lack of interest, tiredness, or a brain fog. While inactivity stems from within a person’s body and mind, we can determine if it’s good or bad for us. But what about nature’s purposes? Are we here to interpret nature’s way of thinking?

It’s only understandable to think that we are. Happiness is not enough. Love is not enough. Sadness is not enough. Even though we’re creatures of habit, the scope of what’s out there in the mountains, how trees communicate, how a female penguin competes for the males during the mating season, and the size of the universe blows our minds.

Without such discovery, self-awareness is a far more difficult pursuit than knowing we’re not the only ones that are alive on this planet.

The fact is that majority of what we do stems from the assumption that we’re a part of nature’s BIG PLAN. That we contribute to nature’s purpose and we’re a natural fact for our own existence.

But where do we find conclusive proof, that is not manifested by humankind, for the same? There is none. That’s because there is no natural fact for human existence. There is no nature’s purpose for interpreting what’s good and bad for us. But there is natural fact and there is nature’s purpose. Now whether it’s meant for the good or bad for us, to a certain degree, we can assume but never completely comprehend.

Schools of thought such as philosophy, science, or psychology enrich what it’s like to be human. It gives us the ability to transcend the physical self and experience greater intuition and oneness with nature.

And nature’s way of communicating with us is through the habits and characteristics of other breathing and non-breathing creatures. Switch to an educative channel like National Geographic or Animal Planet and you’ll learn how a shrimp defends its territory and fights an octopus. Its sheer strength and daring are traits that not engineered by humans. That creature of the sea hasn’t been told what to do or how to react. Nor is it imitating an experimenter’s patterns of behavior. Such skill is congenital. It’s extravagant. It’s a natural fact. So how are we compete with that?

Most of what we learn and act on is fabricated. Our ability to tell from right to wrong is no more accurate than taking a chance. It’s a possibility we’re gambling with. Not a fact. Our intentions, desires, and beliefs are not natural as much as they’re schooled from the time of our births. If we were to pack up all our belongings and travel halfway across the world, we remain capable to survive and live a healthy and fulfilling life. The barriers for us, in a foreign country, would be language and financial stability.

Whether we’re meant to stay in one place or not — that is not for society to decide but the individual himself/herself.

A shrimp, however, is most likely to lose its survival instinct and intestinal fortitude to threaten an octopus if it enters new territory. So nature demands singularity as much as it mocks our thirst for knowledge.

When Does Wisdom End?

Self-awareness is life-changing. It’s when something translates into everything. But what most people don’t tell us is that it demands a lot of our brain power. Self-awareness is not just about crossing legs on freshly-cut grass and meditating in a park during sunset. What it does come close to is waking up for sunrise and walking that extra mile to locate a better spot for the perfect adventure.

It’s all about putting in the effort with no ifs or ands or buts. Now you might say that this is the wisest, yet commonest thing you’ve repeatedly heard or read about. So, what’s the big deal about this article?

This, perhaps, is me breaking down the lesson in fragments and inspecting each fragment under a metaphorical microscope to see what intersects between wisdom and ambiguity. Wisdom and ambiguity are abstract concepts derived for the clarity and obscurity of life. Both are essential when nothing else is. Sometimes, we are not the outcome of our own wisdom. And in those times, we are the outcome of what we don’t know. That’s where everything lies. And that’s when we are able to gain control over some aspects of our own lives.

Now you might think that absolutely nothing is in our control. But conviction isn’t the tool of uncertainties. Imagine all your life’s uncertainties as your playground and conviction is what gets your hands and feet dirty. Such a courageous act exists beyond what’s out there already. And the hardest thing about this playground is that it needs to be constructed by you, from dust and rock. This is the only place where wisdom doesn’t break the silence.

What is said and done within those boundaries is simply causation within itself. It’s expressing and reflecting the workings of the mind as well as its unfathomable limitations. It’s where you push ahead – past the good and bad – and respond to deeper instincts. Wisdom ends when you draw a blank right up to the point of indulgence and obsession.

I strongly believe that self-awareness is not complete without stimulating the mind and body in myriad ways. But I also believe that with letting go one can possess a better and clearer understanding of life and throw light on the kind of choices one makes.

We Can’t Keep Things Simple, So We Complicate

And yes, in most cases, keeping it complicated is a choice. Other times it’s just consequence.

I’m afraid of a kind of attachment that won’t ever be simple. And I don’t mean with romantic relationships exclusively. This can be translated to my work, friendship, personal life, family relationships, and more importantly, to myself. Clinging on to patterns that add fuel to the fire is the only skill I know. This is because I am an exposed crop of my past; and so am I an unsteady nine-to-fiver of this chaotic world. Aren’t we all some kind of nine-to-fivers? If not for work, then for our emotions. We don’t have to belong to a company to have to cluelessly follow a sort of routine that is often explained away in less than a second — in brief excuses and hesitation and subconscious condemning of a much larger entity. Be it religion, constitution, government, society, or flawed human nature itself.

Hence, we can’t keep things simple. It’s a thought process we’ve been tweaked and monitored into habituating. And in doing so, we’ve lost meaning from thought itself. Giving importance to thoughts has defeated our ability of thinking without us even realizing it. Where is the “why” of living, of doing, and of being? This can only come from stopping thoughts. Better, in silencing them for a while. This won’t be a switch like you would TV channels. This silencing of thought and being in the present moment has to be the evolution of logic, judgement, and perspective. And if you go far enough, it could become your only reason to become a better human than you were yesterday. To grow from your silence, your pain, your experiences, and shortcomings.

This is simple. It’s taking what you already know and directing it to what’s real and right here. Sometimes not giving importance to certain thoughts is one of the best decisions you can make. For yourself. For others. For everyone. This lacuna is from where you grow to become original and thoughtful. And on days you get caught up with too many things to do, this little trick will do wonders to how you feel while doing them. This is a kind of freedom you create for yourself so you when you’re in the middle of chaos and confusion, you start to feel more like yourself and not the opinions and projections of those around you.

There’s No Such Thing As The Secret To Happy Living

As if happiness is a destination and “the secret” is the journey to it.

It’s a complicated feeling: happiness. And it’s hard to define it to myself or somebody else. If you haven’t felt it, it becomes sort of like a wavering dream you haven’t seen yet. But I often ask myself why my mind always aims to contract my understanding of happiness. Is it in freedom? Is it in traveling? Or is it in writing this article? Where is it? Seeking or aiming for happiness in moments when I most need it makes me skip a few steps. It’s all a thought process.

We’re always trying to skip ahead a few chapters to get to the good part. The part when feeling good feels good. The part when we don’t have to cut short on happiness just because the moment is over and it’s time to face reality again. The part when we don’t need or have to feel guilty about not wanting to feel the rest of it. And time is as it always does. It moves on just as effortlessly in the storm as it does in the calm. Just the perceptive and emotive sensation of it is unique for each of us. And that’s what matters.

So, coming up with the definition of happiness and its secret that we often want to know more about in self-help books and articles is a waste of time for me. It’s just a small part of what deception looks like. You can choose to remain cloaked in your delusions about achieving happiness as one does nirvana. But happiness is not real enough to feel as if you deserve it. Being grateful, at peace, and honest are much more important in life. It isn’t a singular feeling which is what your individual self makes up as varied facets of happiness.

With that in mind, I learned to respond to happiness by being the better version of myself in negativity and positivity. I learned to focus and re-focus what it takes to know myself even though its trajectory afflicts me with feelings of loneliness. But I will not fall prey to separating my personal experience — breaking it apart — and labeling it as happiness. This does not mean I’m giving up on the good things in life. It just means I’m refraining to bridge experience to emotion because I’m so struck by the logic and uncertainty of it.

On Silence and Loneliness: In Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar

I can’t help myself. Embracing solitude in anxiety and comfort is greater than remaining habitual. But as humans, we do both. Extract the good from the bad. Accept it. And still remain confined to what feels familiar and ours. I felt this conversation clinging to me when I was reading Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar, which is wired to her emotions as my own. Revisiting her The Bell Jar, I found myself taking down notes page after page, not to review, but to deeply connect to and understand her work. And modernity doesn’t meditate on such loneliness the way this book does. These sentences, for example, extract the singular meaning of what makes humans vicious yet so purely beautiful:

“The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.”

Some of us feel loneliness in the lack of physical contact, some in conversations, and some in emotional and sexual intimacy. And there are some souls that feel it all; all at once and for a long time. This stretch of time refines our sense of being, doesn’t it? And while this happens — we lose things too. We lose our ability to familiarize with words that we used to manifest so conveniently. Words like hope, happiness, responsibility, strength, love, and loss. For me, my loneliness is the embodiment of invisible objects awakened for silent protests of intimacies that go beyond my understanding.

Somewhere in the space between the present and the future, this silence has consumed me. But here’s the interpretation of it: it’s not something that has happened, is happening, or will happen. It’s the kind of lacuna that exists as is as a part of me. If there’s a word for self-reflection — for the feelings that appear and re-appear in a sequence of time — each time it devotes its significance to my own prelude to existing and living: then this is it. My loneliness is my vessel of familiarity, of being erratic, and of having to succumb to cause and effect in the happenings of my life. And suddenly, my own silence occurred to me as if I was thrown back into placid reflections. Reflections as inescapable as breathing and as delicate as dust that I can’t help but embrace time’s inevitable passing. I am sure of what my loneliness means to me — and The Bell Jar reminds of its unwavering significance. What is loneliness? Is it yours as much as it is mine, or is it the measure of what we don’t say? I am not sure — but of what I am is, for me, a breath of fresh air.

The Strength That You Wake Up To But Don’t Sleep With

When you learn without the help of another person, you’re not entitled to anything. You’re making your own mistakes and saving your own ass. This sort of dependency on another human being is toxic, I believe, when you want to take things slow. You need to adapt and review what you’re learning without the adamant judgement of others. And this is what makes you a deep thinker. It forms inside you a mind so complete and original. And you might not be as adept as the person sitting next to you when it comes down to conversing unabashedly. But the fact that you learned in solitude makes comparison seem narrow-minded and meaningless. It’s time we disregard what matches up to the standards of our culture. And regard what makes us unique, however unconventional to learn.

I never thought I’d be where I am today if it wasn’t for my chase. My chase to learning what solitude means to me and why does it mean to me what it does. My chase to struggling with relationships. My chase to my anxiety and feeling lonely. My chase to not getting out of my comfort zone like so many people I know have told me to. My mind is full of instances where I’ve gotten passionately obsessed with my chase. Whether it was good or bad — I never questioned its substance. Instead, I questioned the ordinariness of my life. My routine, habits, thinking, emotional stability, and the likes. This shift in thinking was the cause of many vulnerable and upsetting experiences since the day I was born. And some parts even before it. And now you see me trying to make sense, not of my past itself, but of my present as an outcome of my past.

The strength lies in acceptance. Of unravelling the past in relation to the present and in the becoming of the future. The strength you wake up to is not the same kind of strength you sleep with and dream. It’s strength that’s created with attention, realization, and acceptance right from when the clock strikes 00:00 to 00:00. Your ability to ask what, why, how, and when is your strength. Not the destruction of it. If you destroy anything, you do the you that’s the consequence of where you are just so you aren’t defined by the unfairness of it. Your strength is the sum of all the good and bad things that have happened to you and around you. And that strength isn’t inherent. It is bred; even agonized when you’re struggling with life’s meaning and fallacies. Out there, whatever you do or say is quantified in material terms to an extent that even you begin to materialize them. But that’s not growth. That’s a human paradox: to attach quantifiable sense and direction to something that the world thinks relevant and convenient. But to you, it’s a waste of effort because what comes in strength isn’t verifiable.

You can look at two pictures of the same object and still feel differently about one from the other. Sometimes the thing about strength is that it can feel so heavy and light, at the same time, you don’t want to let it go. And to this, the world says you’re being too selfish, too opinionated, or too set in your ways.

To this, you say —

“When the bad dreams finally catch up to me, my strength will not want to let them go. My strength will be my antidote to wake up the next day. And until that day starts, today is all I have to continue my chase. For what is today, is enough.”

Hope in A World Without Sensibility

Hope in a world without sensibility is much like a world lacking the ability to change attitudes toward people, things, and experiences.

Considering how human relationships evolve or limit or furnish what is known and what is not, hope is a dangerous word to believe in without giving it any conscious thought. So what if the balance of hope and sensibility becomes one of the most enduring ideas of living? And in moments of meditation, its breakthrough leads one within one’s own mind and not without. 

How did we end up being so conflicted with hope and so intrepid with everything that defeats the purpose of it? It’s because we thought we’re born with sensibility and that it doesn’t require constant rehearsing. Journeying through childhood into adulthood is an emotional and physiological roller-coaster for everyone. One that offers no validation and forethought. The very fact that it leads us to inevitable phases of critical self-evaluation, which causes what most people refer to as a “frame of mind,” strikes me as a philosophy that is often side-stepped in the initial stages of the loss of hope without sensibility.

I do not mistake hope for anything else. Hope- without the sense of being present in the moment, with looking forward to pleasures so much you completely fail to enjoy the experience of it, and without the understanding of thought and the implementation of it – is, to me, the definition of its destruction. This is the main problem. With people and ideas and relationships with people, experiences, and things. Hoping has become as essential as breathing. What it is, has almost been forgotten for who we are and what we want to be. And here is its meaning- it’s nothing. It’s a void without the presence of fear. It’s not an escape. But it’s a routine. A routine to hope, regardless of what is available to you and what you have to (or want to) work for.

But since when did routine become unfavorable? Have we become so naive to think that routine isn’t a part of our “getting out of the comfort zone” fetish? That we constantly strive and desire and insist to reach. The fact that we do things to challenge routine is, in itself, a routine we’re so afraid of accepting. So hope is just like a routine that we have tried to and will continue to try to challenge, along with all our existing preconceived routines.

While this exists without sensibility. What is hope with it? While I do not know the definition of what it really is, I do know what the definition is deprived of. And that is obligation. Hope with sensibility is when I’m on my own. Essentially, I decide how I feel when I’m supposed to feel about something. That can be anything. Being hopeful about a new passion project, a new book, a new hobby, a vacation, or about writing itself. Hope comes in many forms, so many that it exists as an infinite loop which repeats itself in moments of solitude and the understanding of my existence and the brevity of it.

The difference between sensibility and the absence of it feeds my ability to have a vision. To remain perceptive of not just my own, but other people’s emotions, intelligence, wit, judgment, and presence. After all, aren’t I the only existing finality of my own sensations, insight, and discernment that I take so seriously- and that which keeps purposely growing every day through thought and action?