Relationships stagger me in their volatility sometimes. They can be won or lost in an instant. One moment the connection is there, the next it has disappeared. You can be walking unsuspectingly down the street and have your life changed in an instant by meeting a new soul that coheres with your own.
Due to the first point made, I do wonder why so much effort should be put towards relationships, for friendship or romance, if you stand the risk of losing it at any moment. Having stake in another person can lead to emotional demise if life paths split. Being that one cannot control or influence another person in any real manner, it does seem like a futile aspiration. Pouring yourself into another's life is risky business, without any guarantee of a return on the investment that you made in them. Your efforts may be reciprocated, or may not.
And yet, we were created to crave human relationships. A deep want in us to have that soulful affiliation with another which cannot be denied, at least not without the risk of becoming a miserable and hardened person. A soul dies without connection. We feed off of that fastening of ourselves to another life, as the power supply that energizes and revives us.
Adam walked in the Garden with the very presence of God every dusk. And yet, he was lonely. This is such an illustration of our need, our undeniable necessity of human interaction and relationship. To stroll with God, and yet have a hole in a deep part of himself. Its an exceptional, and somewhat absurd, thought and yet it is part of our engineering: to need another human to fill our lives.
This is a difficult concept for me to grasp: to need someone else. I don't particularly like to need anything. Especially another person who has the ability to leave me, to hurt, to disappoint. No, thanks. I'd rather be completely self-sufficient. Call it harsh, but I believe that some of your reading this can relate to that on some level. I am by no means saying that this is a good way to be. It simply is. And yet, I am cognizant of the reality that not only will I never be able to be without human relationship, but a life devoid of kinship would merely be a passing of 70 or 80 years. It would not be a life.
Besides, it cannot be refuted that nothing else on earth can bring the same joy, the same comfort, the same satisfaction as the human relationship. Not even chocolate can do that. This knowledge is the driving force behind taking the risk of becoming involved, in letting another person invade my personal space. Yes, I receive an emotional battering from this on occasion. But pain reminds us that we are alive and in this case can reveal that we have felt and been felt by another person, made evident by their absence.
Please do not misunderstand, I have no intent nor desire to ostracize myself. While there is an inherent tendency to be a social hermit, I do not succumb to it. At least not too often. I am merely poignantly stating thoughts as to the reasons behind our ambitions driven by nature, and the oft contradictory character of our desires and personalities. It is, after all, interesting how we can fight with conundrums that make up ourselves. The lack of straightforwardness behind personalities, souls and minds is reminiscent of the reality that it takes more than a lifetime to really know oneself. That all of the grey parts that construct a person have no real definition for most of our time on earth.
Life really is a journey of discovery.
"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same." ~Flavia Weedn
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Soliloquy of Stillness
There is a certain quality of stillness that is tremendously enticing. And yet not something that one can oft achieve. Particularly when you are someone like me who just simply cannot stop thinking. Not even for a fraction of a second. There is a certain irritation that accompanies the inability get that grey matter in one's head to simply be still for just a while.
I don't find myself to be a particularly envious person. Especially not of the opposite gender. However, I am covetous of the male mind on one point: it can actually accomplish the feat of not thinking. At all. Men utterly confound me with their proficiency to not think. Like, actually, not think. The capacity of the male mind to shut down any and all analytical reasoning is astounding. And I want that.
There is a comedian whose name escapes me right now that has a fabulous sketch on the differences between the male and female minds. How womens' brains are able to focus on many different tasks simultaneously and are incapable of rest. Men, however, are only able to focus on a single thing at a time. The male mind is like a chest of drawers and everything is categorized into its own separate drawer. But, alas, the male mind has a drawer specifically set aside for nothing. Nothing! This drawer is aptly labeled "The Nothing Drawer."
Ladies, you have to be able to relate to my invidiousness to this skill. Can you imagine even a few seconds of sheer mental stillness? And yet, how many times have you asked your man what he is thinking about and he looks at you with this dumb look on his face and says.... "uuuuuhhhhh..... Nothing." Now, your immediate natural and well-understandable reaction to this most likely goes something like this: "How can you not be thinking about anything? Nothing? Not one little thing? Nothing at all?"
Ugh. The word "jealousy" does not begin to scratch the surface of my sentiments towards this ability. It would just be marvelous to be able to be completely and simply still. Just once!
But, alas and alack, I was born with the wrong chromosomes for this talent. I suppose that I shall have to just continue on with my constant ponderings and over-analytical brainal functions.
I'm going to hope and pray that "Nothing Boxes" are on sale this Black Friday. I will stock up on them and perhaps sell a few on Ebay. I'm sure I would be able to finance my private island off of that. And before you ask, yes, I shall set one aside for you.
I don't find myself to be a particularly envious person. Especially not of the opposite gender. However, I am covetous of the male mind on one point: it can actually accomplish the feat of not thinking. At all. Men utterly confound me with their proficiency to not think. Like, actually, not think. The capacity of the male mind to shut down any and all analytical reasoning is astounding. And I want that.
There is a comedian whose name escapes me right now that has a fabulous sketch on the differences between the male and female minds. How womens' brains are able to focus on many different tasks simultaneously and are incapable of rest. Men, however, are only able to focus on a single thing at a time. The male mind is like a chest of drawers and everything is categorized into its own separate drawer. But, alas, the male mind has a drawer specifically set aside for nothing. Nothing! This drawer is aptly labeled "The Nothing Drawer."
Ladies, you have to be able to relate to my invidiousness to this skill. Can you imagine even a few seconds of sheer mental stillness? And yet, how many times have you asked your man what he is thinking about and he looks at you with this dumb look on his face and says.... "uuuuuhhhhh..... Nothing." Now, your immediate natural and well-understandable reaction to this most likely goes something like this: "How can you not be thinking about anything? Nothing? Not one little thing? Nothing at all?"
Ugh. The word "jealousy" does not begin to scratch the surface of my sentiments towards this ability. It would just be marvelous to be able to be completely and simply still. Just once!
But, alas and alack, I was born with the wrong chromosomes for this talent. I suppose that I shall have to just continue on with my constant ponderings and over-analytical brainal functions.
I'm going to hope and pray that "Nothing Boxes" are on sale this Black Friday. I will stock up on them and perhaps sell a few on Ebay. I'm sure I would be able to finance my private island off of that. And before you ask, yes, I shall set one aside for you.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Grievances, Punching Bags and Private Islands
Today was yet another day of wondering if I should have my head examined. My morning and afternoon were reminiscent of the thanksgiving turkey right after it had been decapitated before it made its way to your dinner table. There's a great mental picture for you. Anyhoo, stress seems to be in the air at the office, with no one able to run away from it. I believe that it gets into the vents, and well... There is no escape. I may need to invest in surgical masks.
The non-stop-so-you-better-buckle-up-and-learn-how-to-ride-it-out-graciously theme is our company motto. There never seems to be any downtime that exceeds 2.7 seconds. Ever. This is cause for approximately 8.3 mental breakdowns per hour, split between my office roomie and myself. Granted, it is not a 50-50 split. More like 70-30, with myself being the guilty party. I've discovered recently that I really do have a knack for complaining. This isn't a good thing, considering that there is no career path geared towards Professional Complainer. If there were, I could be a millionaire and buy a private island and then have to be more creative in finding things to complain about. Like the lack of coconuts for my pina coladas. Speaking of private islands, did you know that you can find relatively cheap islands for sale on the internet? I'm looking into it quite seriously, dependant on the outcome of the election.
The verse "do all things without complaining or arguing" has harassed the forefront of my mind lately. I personally think that God was a little too optimistic about the human race when he formed that thought. Being a chronic complainer who is attempting to rid myself of bemoaning, it just seems to me that our dear Lord may have entirely too much faith in my ability to shut my piehole. Venting keeps me from hurting people at work. Or taking a nail gun to my eyeball. Or yelling "WE'RE CLOSED!!" every time a co-worker opens my office door. Oh wait... Yeah, I'd continue to do that one regardless.
Perhaps I need a proxy for my grievances. Like a punching bag. That may help. Or maybe I can channel my frustrations into knitting scarves and blankets and then sell them on etsy.com to pay for my island. Speaking of which, you simply must see my lovely sister's lovely creations on her Etsy store if you haven't already. Its basically baby barrette heaven.
Oh well. On my quest for a complaint-free attitude, I shall just continue to force my mouth to stop spewing word vomit by stuffing it with food. God bless stress eating. Quite frankly, I would have been committed by now if it weren't for mashed potatoes and ice cream.
The non-stop-so-you-better-buckle-up-and-learn-how-to-ride-it-out-graciously theme is our company motto. There never seems to be any downtime that exceeds 2.7 seconds. Ever. This is cause for approximately 8.3 mental breakdowns per hour, split between my office roomie and myself. Granted, it is not a 50-50 split. More like 70-30, with myself being the guilty party. I've discovered recently that I really do have a knack for complaining. This isn't a good thing, considering that there is no career path geared towards Professional Complainer. If there were, I could be a millionaire and buy a private island and then have to be more creative in finding things to complain about. Like the lack of coconuts for my pina coladas. Speaking of private islands, did you know that you can find relatively cheap islands for sale on the internet? I'm looking into it quite seriously, dependant on the outcome of the election.
The verse "do all things without complaining or arguing" has harassed the forefront of my mind lately. I personally think that God was a little too optimistic about the human race when he formed that thought. Being a chronic complainer who is attempting to rid myself of bemoaning, it just seems to me that our dear Lord may have entirely too much faith in my ability to shut my piehole. Venting keeps me from hurting people at work. Or taking a nail gun to my eyeball. Or yelling "WE'RE CLOSED!!" every time a co-worker opens my office door. Oh wait... Yeah, I'd continue to do that one regardless.
Perhaps I need a proxy for my grievances. Like a punching bag. That may help. Or maybe I can channel my frustrations into knitting scarves and blankets and then sell them on etsy.com to pay for my island. Speaking of which, you simply must see my lovely sister's lovely creations on her Etsy store if you haven't already. Its basically baby barrette heaven.
Oh well. On my quest for a complaint-free attitude, I shall just continue to force my mouth to stop spewing word vomit by stuffing it with food. God bless stress eating. Quite frankly, I would have been committed by now if it weren't for mashed potatoes and ice cream.
