Love/Loss of self

The realization that I was all alone was what put me in the state of paralyzing depression. There’s a belief behind it that I was unloved. For four years I haven’t been able to do the work of seriously finding my way Home. The feeling of love itself is what finally freed me enough from this paralysis. Ever since I felt love, I witnessed changes in me. I don’t recognize myself in these, and for the first time maybe, I can say that something else is working through me. Determination was set, and I did not create it.

Love towards whom? Maybe it doesn’t matter. My experience convinced me that people are disappointing. Anything conceivable is disappointing, if not soon then later. But it turned out, love feels the same regardless of whom or what it is directed. What do you do when love comes? “Follow him, yield to him,” Khalil Gibran says.

In my early teens I prayed hard so that God didn’t let me love him too much. Love was too overwhelming, and I felt I was on the verge of giving up everything, my self, for God (my notion at the time, based on my upbringing, was by becoming a nun). Now in my braver times, I long to love too much.

Death

If this were you, where would you be now?

Where would you have begun, and would you have ended?

Where and what are the boundaries of you in space, and in time?

Bleakness and Survival

Do we have to view life as bleak and serious in order for us to survive? Somewhere along the way to adulthood I picked up this belief. Somewhere Rose said that “life doesn’t take you seriously. So why take it so seriously?” I miss the period when I could allow relaxation and enjoyment to be a part of my daily life, and I didn’t see that they would conflict with my survival. Back then I didn’t see myself racing with time and competing against the whole world.

Heat Death of the Universe

I was catching up and re-learning some very basic thermodynamics a while back. I came across this very excellent page describing entropy (a key thermodynamics term), which I never *really* understood in school. (http://entropysite.oxy.edu/entropy_is_simple/) In college, they always likened an increase in entropy as an increase in chaos or as an increase in the disorder of a system. This analogy actually often leads to an opposite understanding of what increasing entropy truly means. Newer textbooks attempt to describe this abstraction of physical reality as an increase in energy dispersal, something my visual non-math mind understood immediately. I bring this up because the Second Law of Thermodynamics happens to state that, “In a system, a process that occurs will tend to increase the total entropy (or energy dispersal) of the universe.” (from Wikipedia, my parentheses). Let’s not miss the simplicity of that statement. It says “a process that occurs.” That’s all. Not a specific process, but any process, period. In other words, any process that one can conceive of is basically moving energy from high concentration and individual uniqueness to greater homogeneity and distribution. In addition, this is an irreversible process. The frightening thing about this law is that it will ultimately lead to complete and absolute homogeneity of the entire universe. This is termed the heat death of the universe.

The heat death of the universe might be described by a simple analogy. Imagine if the entire universe were only comprised of a cup of cold milk sitting next to a pot of hot coffee. After pouring the cold milk into the hot pot of coffee the heat energy is completely dispersed. In other words, both the milk and the coffee are the same temperature and completely mixed. There is no way to “unmix” the differing temperatures. Nor can we “unmix” the once separate entities of cold milk and hot coffee. They have become completely and utterly none-unique, neither the formerly hot, black coffee nor the cold, white milk exist anymore. It has become a maximized energy dispersal of the two, a warm, tan latte. If the coffee and milk were sentient beings this might be experienced as death to them.  In our terms, the loss of uniqueness of the hot black coffee and the individuality of the cold white milk was the heat death of their individuality…

As these ideas and thoughts passed through my mind-machine the follow up thought was one of hope, since this process is constantly occurring, and is utterly inevitable. Anything that is done, thought, existed, thing-ed, or self-ed simply moves this process forward. It’s impossible to move the universe to a state of less entropy, also known as the arrow of time. I wondered if it’s therefore impossible to prevent ourselves from our own “heat death” of individuality. Certainly the universe seems to comply with this law. However, heat death will only happen very slowly if things are energetically insulated from each other. In our analogy it might be akin to surrounding an insulated styrofoam cup of cold milk with hot coffee. Eventually the two would reach the same temperature or “mix” energetically so to speak. (To truly increase the entropy to its absolute maximum the molecules would have to mix, too, and then evaporate, ionize, break down into their subatomic constituents, then their strings, or whatever, and be distributed homogeneously). Naturally, in order to drink the coffee the same day we ditch the pot or the cup and mix them both into one container.

If we dare to apply this analogy to ourselves we’d have to admit that we are currently “insulated” from the heat death of individuality. Can we see what our insulation is made of? Are we willing to wait and gamble for the process to possibly occur naturally, irreversibly, with the stark inevitability of a 100% probability? Or do we take action to remove our insulations, if we can? Can we remove our insulation ourselves or must we ask for God’s grace to remove it for us?

Freedom and Void

Since last year I’ve been preoccupied with my unusually prolonged coming of age. One night as I was chatting with a close friend, an insight came to me that I’d been focusing on the wrong problem, the wrong direction. It seemed that the thought came out of nowhere since we were talking about something unrelated.  At that short moment my belief (that career matters) was truly challenged by the simple question: “what if it does not matter?”

That moment I felt a sense of relief from the burden of my beliefs (of what it means to be a responsible adult). It was subtle, there was no heavenly choir singing gloriously, but it was a relief, a breaking of a chain. I fear giving it too much emphasis or importance because very soon after that, the freedom leaves a space … for nothing. A void. Freedom to do what? What do I do with/in this free space then? I still feel an immense lack of something. “Loving others and getting love from others,” I thought at the time, inspired by the fact that the insight came as I was talking to a good friend. The insight that job and career (and, as it turned out, much more) may not matter was not freeing. A bigger, more threatening void loomed. It brought fear, intractable dissatisfaction, and the worry-thought that I should care about some adult thing, and if I don’t I’m leading myself towards death. Only people, friends and family, matter, I thought. But don’t I have to do something a little more important-looking than just exchanging love?

Conflict and uncertainty

I quit my job last week. It took me a while to do this, despite the fact that I felt I would get little to lose and I felt increasingly unhappy there. I felt like I could use my time for better things, but the thought that without this job I would lose one more self-definition–that is, I could no longer define myself in terms of what I do–hindered me from quitting. Luckily, perhaps, I could no longer imagine another week of working there. What was strange, several weeks leading to my finally taking action on the thought to quit, the prospect of having no status (unemployed), though scary, was getting more compelling. Somehow I was lured into trying to live with no status/label in society. Somehow I wanted to take up this challenge. It was exciting, sort of like getting an adrenaline rush from doing something risky. But more so, I wanted to quit, just quit, spending more time and energy doing something I didn’t want. I got to the point where I could not care if by doing this I was plunging myself to everything that I fear: a life where everything is uncertain, where I will have no respectful position,  and/or a tragic end where i blow up all my potentials and privileges.

At this point my future’s becoming more and more uncertain. Partly due to exhaustion, I had planned for this break after graduating so I can take a clearer view of what I want to do in life. But the prospect of a complete break in which I would do nothing, and thus be nothing, freaked me out. So I went out to get this job so I could meet people, explore different things, build up connections. “Great,” I thought, it would then be a productive break. But I didn’t last long for I just could not care enough about all these. It turned out that my notion of a responsible adult did not mean too much for me.

I asked myself whether I am not being a spoiled brat who can always go home to find food and roof above my head if I can’t tolerate something out there. I wonder if life is too easy for me. I wonder if I haven’t push myself hard enough, haven’t suffered enough. But then, how do I know if what is at work behind these questions is the idea of the need of maximum suffering to pump up myself, to make me feel I am worthy. And how do I know if the last sentence is not a rationalization to avoid “being an adult”?

So far and in general, I enjoy what I get to do now. I enjoy not being needed or required. I enjoy being my own boss, having a slow day. I’m reluctant to admit them at times because of a self-judgement: am I being negatively complacent or living in the present moment?

Some time ago a thought occurred to me that as long as there is a need for a purpose, sufferings will never end for me. Somewhere I apparently got to the point where I identified suffering with life-purpose. To be a worthy and meaningful purpose, it requires great suffering. So I have two conflicting desires in direct opposition with one another: end of sufferings and meaningful purpose. It seems to me everything that is going on in my life now is in opposition with one another, like career and loved ones.

What’s the alternative purpose for me?

I wrote this about a month ago, but a lot is still pertinent to me now.

I thought I was going to write about what preoccupy me most lately, that is, what I want to do in life. The question seems to demand a more serious answer now, especially as another year of my life is passing away. I always think of the answer in terms of career, despite the fact that I think Eckhart Tolle’s answer “our purpose is to be present” makes the most sense. Anyway, a visit from a close friend changed the plan to write about this.

Career and loved ones were never in the same place for me. Living at home again after so many years away pursuing career gives me both comfort and stress. I missed my family and being home, and now that I am here, I am clutching it so time stops and I will never have to leave again. In vain, I know. I am getting older and expected to go out and “be a person” instead of living off of my mother. But the feelings that come to mind as i recall my past couple of years of establishing are cold, lonely, harsh. Is it about love (i.e., that I don’t want to be separated from the people I love) or am I merely cowering and hiding from the outside world?

I know that both career and loved ones won’t be the permanent answer that will end my angst. To be honest, I don’t believe that the end to suffering is attainable for me. So I’m settling down for less, holding on to what I think is the next best thing, no matter how impermanent and insufficient.

Especially this past week I have not been setting aside time to be alone and do nothing. I opted for spending time with my close friend in his temporary visit. I don’t believe that any resolution of my biggest fear can be reached in solitary reflections. I am tired of locking myself up and working alone. I need a savior.

Common ground

During a recent retreat I wrote a poem for each of the other participants. Trying to capture a part of the feeling I have about them in words. Looking over the poems later I noticed that not only were they relevant to the person they were written for, but also to myself. It turned out to be common ground. And maybe you will recognize something of yourself in one or more of the poems too?

Point the gun the other way,
aim for the false and blow it away!

I should, I could, I would,
but and if and when,
leave it behind and act,
that is the way my frien-d.

Confusion and seriousness cannot hide the fact,
that peaking out behind it,
is the playful child of you intact.

When I said “I want to be like you”,
it wasn’t the personality I was referring to,
the one I have with flaws and all will do,
but the light behind it shinning through.

Skyscrapers are elegant, majestic and tall,
but maybe compared to your true identity,
they are quite small…

To conquer the world,
sure as hell would be sweet,
but until you conquer your self,
you will have nothing but defeat.

Behind a facade of fear and pride,
is a bleeding heart you cannot hide!
Dear friend, please lower the guard,
don’t you see it’s strangling your heart?

The Shawshank Redemption

On my way home after a TAT meeting I watched the movie The Shawshank Redemption on the plane (great movie by the way). I don’t know if I’m just obsessively projecting relevancy for the search of Truth unto everything I come across, but it sure did strike a cord. After it was over I wrote the below lines as an attempt to capture the feeling it evoked:

I have a hope, a faint hope of Freedom beyond imagination,
and no matter how hopeless my staggering in the dark seems,
no matter how impossible, overwhelming and beyond reach the goal appears to be,
I can always take one more step, one more step towards Freedom,
and maybe, just maybe, one day a step I take will lead to Freedom itself…

Gatha

Motivations lie scattered
like so many supporting sticks
in the cellar of an old house
held up by twigs.
To keep the house upright
is to work without rest,
here a little, there a little,
like spinning plates.
Work is driven by
fearful creaks and groans,
and proud dreams of
ornate mansions.
But here in the cellar floor
is a door unopened.
Its ancient wood planks
smell of childhood days
playfully lost amongst
sunlit trees on
timeless summer afternoons.
The occasional splash heard
against its unseen side
recalls crisp ocean air
blown across the bright
deck of a sailboat
free at sea.
If only such a door
could lead back to
that place of endless wonder.
But no time now to
explore this door’s depths,
for the house threatens
to crumble at the
slightest quiver or breeze.
How much longer can this
tiring and tedious
work continue before you
Peek beneath the
hidden door at the
base of your rotting house,
To face the inevitable
and find out what
Power really keeps
this houseboat afloat?