“Take care always to remember that you are a man and a Roman; and let every action be done with perfect and unaffected gravity, humanity, freedom, and justice. And be sure you entertain no fancies, which may give check to these qualities” – Marcus Aurelias
To plunge the depths of my soul. Oh, what a terrible swim that would be. To dive into my hearts desires. Oh, what a treacherous task that would be. To leap into my mind. Oh, what a daring act of uselessness that would be. Some may call you brave if you succeed, lest you fail and be stupefied. Stupefied and befuddled to find simplistic chaos and undefined order. To climb the walls which encase my spirit. Oh, what an arduous activity. For it is only the ones who toil and strive for turmoil. Sadly find themselves sooner complete in the soil.
Life is struggle. It is a total miss-match of what we hope to expect and what we truly come to find. When this happens and we are not particularly sure of where we stand in terms of our definitions. Meaning, when we are forced to unlearn the filters through which we build our order from. Now, this might be very small, such as a new layout of your favourite restaurant, or the discontinuation of a product. Or when you found out that WWE was a scripted show and the wins were decided beforehand. There are of course more impactful, incidental, interfering injunctions, inflicting injury to our general being. Such as a child learning that they have been adopted. Or father learning his son does not wish to enter the family business. A mother whose name and nursery ideas are shot down by her expectant daughter. Or a teacher finding out her favourite student does not think of her subject as their favourite.
I’ve come to find that everyone hates correction. We don’t mind being wrong. Hell, we don’t even mind being morally off base and socially repugnant. Just as long as nobody dares to correct us. It is quite troubling since we now even fear self-correction. We slip-slide our way through our rationalisations and justifications. While trying out damndest to make our bullshit Michelin star of palatability. While working furiously at polishing all our turds. Nip and tuck. Obfuscating through pure chicanery.
Paying no mind to the damage we do to others, even less to ourselves since the goal is only to create a façade that the palace is not held together with excrement and that we are quite incremental to societies, and we are not doing anything other than self-experimentation. Childish to the point that it is never wise to use personage as our first, only and primary test subjects. Yes, we gain a full lived experience of just how disastrous we can become, or just how high up the ladder we can climb. Regarding nothing for the transactional costs, we have offered as an unsure sacrifice. Yet we are so high up and have climbed so far. We lie to ourselves, similar to the gambling addict. That our big win and pay-out’ lurks around the corner, damn anyone trying to stop that. I call it the Prior Success Fallacy.
A falsehood, which lay a trap for the spiritually unbound. The emotionally listless. The assured drifters. The directionless explorers and the late-arriving pioneers. Those clueless of what is around. Those too cowardice to stand for themselves, crucially by-themselves. Those in regular need of a crutch, who often just use it as a comfort rather than necessity. Those who cry out in pain at the sight of their destructive behaviour. The prudish exhibitionist who cannot bear with the self-realisation of what they represent and what they truly manifest as. Those who choose to bully, abuse circumstance, twist it to their advantage and cry foul when the fault in their intentions is shown to them,
Those who run enthusiastically into chaos, with no new opportunities gleaned from their experience. Other than victimhood of perpetual failure and underachievement. While lacking the nuanced introspectively required to leap out of grandiosity of made-up reality. And front up and recognise the personal ownership of one’s duty. All aligned at repaying the structure out of which we are to gain strength, solace, security, serenity out of. See I was taught on. An old-school coloured principle “Jy praat nie uit die huis uit nie”. A simplistic notion of protection from the world. It is a promise of safety that your frailties are to be kept as they are so that even when these weak areas need to masquerade as strong, They can stand up to the scrutiny of those who have but only one job in life. To probe for weakness. An existence so sad, that their vision is so obscured by the beam in their eyes they can only see the lint in yours.
I have seen a lot of imitations of people. Brave enough to attempt a performance, but stupid enough to expect applause and fanfare. My advice. Recognise in your life who shares ideas and commits actively to making those a reality. Versus those who talk only of things and people yet do nothing to achieve similar status but rather couch coach the perfect lifestyle, from the comfort of their bog-palace. Be wary of those well-polished turds. Be careful of those with vision only precise to capture and describe your flaws, idiosyncrasies and pet-peeves. Yet are strangely blind to the glaring incongruency of who and what they are.
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