Never lose my sense of self

A new season, a new chapter… how amazing life is in the way it subtly and almost without notice renders us defenceless to the winds like a dry leaf and takes us on a journey of change and positioning. The skies once bluish take on a definite shade of blue, the colours shine with deepened vibrancy in the glow of the sun and the north breeze, whilst disturbing the peace of our natural inclinations, soften us to recognise beauty, truth and life. As the thermals life us in silent strength, we realise that the world we leave behind becomes more diminished in size until some aspects of our earthly home are lost from sight forever… it is then time to embrace a new season of change.

But is freedom found in our drifting? Can the vast views of an illimitable sky capture our gaze forever or must we come down to rest? With new horizons in view, what we had always perceived to be freedom incarnate becomes, upon reflection, a fabricated mirror of our own disillusions… true freedom we discover is not cradled in boundlessness, isolation, independence and limitlessness – it is in fact fostered in trust and a strong unwavering confidence in the powerful destiny of our lives.

In the last two months, the underside of my life has been rendered completely vulnerable to the elements of change. Every known reality has been confronted; each tiny seed of trust has been brought under scrutiny and my spirit has been wrenched in every soul entangling emotion imaginable – the equilibrium of life has changed. Letting go always takes a vulnerable-posturing soul-rendering step of courage… to release to the kite strings of forever the aspirations, thoughts, people and places that have defined our lives thus far and position ourselves willingly to embrace the coming winds of change. And yet we must…

The personification of who we are is always delineated between two extreme opposites. Just as the equilibrium of life is always diverging between extremes of environment, circumstances, and states of being – so too do our lives reflect this changing state of adaptation.

We are not two dimensional persons… our personalities reflect a gamut of emotions, interests and sometimes paradoxical temperaments that never cease to confound and perplex those who remain silent observers or bemused participators of our lives. In every way we are multi-dimensional; we embrace unconventionality over conformity, rebellion over obedience, we seek adventure rather than safety, we wear camo army pants and pearls, we dine in fine restaurants but relish the simplicity of a humble meal, we love driving fast, wielding power tools and testing the narrow limbs of life yet become timid in the face of vulnerability, we love exploring the far reaches of the globe but fail to pay heed to the sensitivities of the soul, we admire the delicate simplicity of a dafodil yet ignore the revered beauty of a rose, we climb mountains and attend black-tie board meetings, we espouse philosophies then learn to live them, we converse confidently and intellectually with people of great influence and we posture ourselves gracefully to speak simple encouraging words to the impoverished and lonely, we heighten our stature with heels but love the freedom of bare feet, we are adventurous in life yet apprehensive in trust, we love creating but despise being the object of someone’s creation, we live life at its fastest pace but allow our hearts to be stopped by the beauty of a sunset, we are tenacious in our pursuit of truth yet relentlessly evasive in speaking it, we hate the cold yet love the snow, we break every rule yet in quietude learn submission, we love the game yet are terrified of its demands to relinquish control, we drink scotch yet retreat from social benders, we are fiercely independent yet find inspiration in like-mindedness, we love the heights of competition yet hate the turning of its back, we are methodically focused and yet inclined to spontaneity, cultured yet expressive, wise yet irrational, bohemian yet conservative, disciplined yet free-spirited, impulsively intolerant yet meticulously patient, openly artless yet contemplatively reserved, strong yet compassionate…

Our lives are a complex web of contradictions and paradoxes, there is no formula for their self expression nor is there an imposed ceiling to their eccentricities or unconventionality of behavior… we are unique. Our lives are not always to be understood by ourselves or by others, but they are to be lived out loud. We cannot forsake who we are to simply blend into our environment like a chameleon but neither can we be too brusque, insensitive and inconsiderate in imposing our self-learned behaviors and philosophies on others – therein lies the delicate thread of balance. Immature in wisdom but courageous in my openness to learn I know the journey for me has only just began and a lifetime of learning and growing lies in wait.

In trying to assimilate who we are out of the chaos of life… we tend to compartmentalize and categorise ourselves. By streamlining our interests and tightening the reigns on alluring diversions, we seek to disband that which is inharmonious and incongruous to our “apparent” talents or those pursuits deemed worthwhile. In essence we typecast ourselves to fit a certain formula to which we hold onto with adamancy and unbending resolve. What is the driving force of these self-imposed limits? Is it an attempt to gain a tighter control on our lives? Or is it rather a way of reducing the risk of failure… staying close to the safe harbour of familiarity rather than braving the storms that gather over the open seas?

I was recently inspired by a friend who, recognizing the imbalance of attention dedicated to left brain thinking – logic, analysis and accuracy, sought to rectify it by pursuing a creative outlet. Though realizing himself to be embarking upon completely foreign territory, my friend went to an art shop, bought a ‘learn to paint’ kit and, last night e-mailed me with a photo of his first painting. Being a right brain thinker and endowed with natural creativity, I never really comprehended the challenge of transitioning one’s thinking until now. Any such choice which flows against our natural instincts does require us to leave the safe harbour… to render ourselves vulnerable to an alien world of thought and deliberation and see where the winds will take us.

Sadly, few people take this risk. They categorise themselves as being “not creative” and therefore forfeit the great delight of reveling in the art of self expression and creative realization. A red and orange hot air balloon floated over a running desert brook and its alluringly peaceful imagery painted my mind with a new perspective of art and of life. How rarely we see beyond the ceilings of our minds and awaken our imaginations to another way of exploring life… how much of life we miss.

When does life end? When does it begin? The August Half Iron-Man in Yeppoon inspired some reflections on this very question as it embodied the very essence of a ‘no age mindset’. The cross section of people who participate in this event stripped away pretences of what ‘old age’ is meant to be like… and any preconceptions of a sedentary and passive lifestyle were suppressed as I bore witness to 65, 75 and 80 year old men and women competing in an event which would make most ‘young’ people feel faint even thinking about it.

As the observant bystander, I could only be inspired by the tenacity and endurance of this older generation… Stephen my brother, on the other hand found himself humiliated as people no less than 50 years older than him swam and rode past him at a torrent pace. What made these men and women want to push themselves to such a limit? Wouldn’t they have more excuses than anyone not to compete in such a gruelling test of physical and mental strength? Would anyone judge them for sitting at home in front of the television as we suspect many ‘old’ people do? What made them put away the white hats and lawn bowls leaving the manicured grassy green behind and walk two kilometres down a long beach at 7:00 one Sunday morning at Yeppoon to begin a gruelling 7 hour physical challenge? What made them choose to redefine the stereotype of “old”?

Someone once asked the question ‘How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?’ That is a defining question of our generation – how would we live if there was never a benchmark set, an expectation defined or a stereotype imposed upon us that insists we “act our age”? The stamina and willpower of these 70 and 80 year old athletes reinforced the fact that our capacity is limited only by the height of our determination. The secret of their success when they crossed the finish line after 6 or 7 hours of intense competition could be summarised in one single sentence ‘live life to the full’. Don’t retire from life because it’s the norm, don’t give up competing with those who are younger because they might overtake you, don’t refrain from participating in the race, don’t hold back from “redefining” life on your own terms.

What is this human condition that causes us to benchmark ourselves against others’ achievements? By comparison we draw conclusions of our progress and status and by critical analysis of other’s successes – we rate ourselves accordingly to mark our place in the grand spectrum of life. Our yardstick becomes not the ceiling of our own aspiration or talent – rather it becomes the perception of another’s ‘success.’

In this rapid cognition of comparison, we do not permit ourselves to be happy or conceivably ‘successful’ until we have satisfied the egotistical criteria of ‘human nature’ and the misguided perception of ourselves. Happiness, we perceive is to be found when we reach this unnamed, unquantifiable, impalpable and illusionary state of being; when we become like…, when we achieve…, when we obtain… when we are seen as… when we arrive at… We perceive our life will be happy, complete and fulfilled at such a time when… However, with this mentality as the focus of all our hopes and endeavors, it is more than likely that ‘when’ will never come. We shall always be in a state of waiting, of hoping to arrive at that station which proves ever elusive and indefinite.

The yardstick of human nature is, however, rather misgiving in its capacity for applause and true recognition… and so, along the way, we become discouraged by our lack of progress and true satisfaction. The bountiful meadows of joy and contemplated happiness are spread out before our eyes like an enchanted dream, yet such a destination seems to continually allude us as long as we indulge in this self-flagellating battle to ‘compete’. Opinions and expectations, whilst they may weigh heavily upon our shoulders in the immediacy of the moment, do tend to in the longevity of life – fade into the grey cloaked realm of insignificance. The intensity of emotion, fear of judgement and subjectivity of opinion which confronts us at our crossroads of life appears no more than a mere speck of dust on a distant horizon when viewed though the telescope of past memories.

The notion of ‘success’ is shrewd, intransigent and unrelentessly sympathetic to independence of thought or inspired direction. It demands of us a single-mindedness of occupation and focus and seeks to enforce upon us a set of laws by which our lives should be governed… ‘Meet this criteria, check these boxes, reach this status and your life shall be perceived as happy and successful.’ We strive our whole lives to meet this ideal – to say the right things, to meet the right people, to make the right grades and follow along the yellow brick roads of life alongside the inspired direction of others… but what do we have to gain?

Have we found happiness within ourselves? Have our lives collided with the selfless beauty of our dreams or have they followed the ‘rulebook’ of other’s expectations? Have we felt the fresh soulful winds of endless possibilities blowing upon our faces or have we long been hemmed in by the dull and lifeless stone wall of the confined life? Have we known what it is to give with unexplainable generosity of heart and feel the inexpressible delight of moving beyond ourselves? Have we learned the art of gratification and fulfillment in the face of adversity and poverty of body or spirit? Are we aspiring to others’ definitions of success or are we forging our own lives, drawing our own blueprints, reaching for ideals previously unsought after, aspiring to dreams which are intuitively our own? Success cannot be calculated by the yardstick of another’s accomplishment, it can be measured only by the innate capacity in each of us for greatness and in what degree our lives reflect that which has been entrusted to our care.

The world is silenced by so many unsaid words and fuelled by the cognitive energy of thoughts. Our thoughts justify reason and rationalize decision, they substantiate our lack of explanation, validate our interpretations and clarify misunderstanding by means of analytical elimination and exposition… in a complex DNA of explicable irrationality and illuminated confusion, thoughts are born and are the means through which our lives are translated.

Thoughts can inspire, they can ignite passion, motivate behaviors and compel the soul to surge upward towards the ever-enticing materialization of success. Yet, overanalysis of such things can also cause us to define too rationally the definition of ‘success’. In seeking to meet the lofty heights set for us by well-meaning friends and critics, we disband ourselves from that which inspires and fulfills us most to reach another’s interpretation of “happiness”.

It follows then, when such heights seem far from reach, we retreat into the void of escapism. As we fail to reach those lofty expectations, our lives seem to cloud and wash away like a chalked painting beneath a rain-laden sky, every surity – everything we know and understands begins to lose its depth and clarity. In trying to recover that which was lost, we run away and seek to re-create a new picture with bold markings of bright and glorious colours. We identify the greatest flaw of our past as that of allowing the world to see its creation and so, we seek to avoid that trap again by hiding away in a cave.

Though this new rendition may be beautiful and its artistry inspiring… it will never be so glorious… for it will not carry with it the strength of admiration and critiquing that the other demanded. The first painting, whilst being vulnerable to the elements, was expressed ‘wide-open’ for the world to love and admire… yet this second creation, in all its beauty is hidden within a darkened and solitary cave which bears the promise of a rainless future but excludes the world from viewing its creation.

In the beautiful outworkings of our confused minds we rationalize the thought that when… our picture is complete, when… the colours are as glorious as we imagine them to be, when… our artistry can be esteemed to the likes of Picasso or Da Vinci… then we shall emerge and unveil to the world the beauty of our creation. Yet in this dark and hollowed cave we have not the light to see clearly and our lines begin to blur, our drawing is not so precise as it was in the clarified brightness of day and our colours do not draw such beauty as they possessed when reflected by the canopy of blue limitless sky. Days draw into weeks, weeks draw into months, months draw into years and still our masterpiece is unready to unveil to the world. What we fail to realise is that every day that passes only widens the great chasm between the artist and his dream. In trying to reach perfection in the eyes of his audience and achieve that sanctified state of ‘success’, the artist is only paralyzing himself from living a fulfilled and happy life.

Let the world see the journey – not only its end, let it be inspired by the grit of the challenges and amused by the colour of its adventure, let it be lifted by the hopes and dreams beset by the young artist, let it humbled and reverenced by the mistakes, but most of all – let the world be a part of its creation, for it is the journey which creates and makes beautiful the masterpiece, not the momentary success of the unveiling of a picture.

Will it be the limit of our thoughts or the defyingly courageous expression of our lives which will ultimately set the blueprint for our future?

Of Shakespeare’s many sonnets… it is these two simple words that have born the greatest truth in my life “Know Thyself.” Sometimes we lose who we really are in a quest to conform to some other ideal, some illusion of who the world says we should be. Many of my posts reiterate the tragedy of becoming a copy of someone else… because in many ways that is my greatest fear – that I should one day look back and realise I was not true to myself, I didn’t express who I was as an individual.

I met up with someone for lunch a few days ago. I did not know her well but for some reason felt to give her a call and suggest that we spend the day together. Over a sumo salad we discussed the philosophies of life and she said something to me that I shall never forget. She said that before she had even met me, by observation alone – she felt I knew exactly who I was. ‘Don’t confuse it with independence,’ she said, ‘I know you are fiercely independent, but it’s not that which sets you apart. It’s the way you compose yourself, the way your views carry boldness and strength of conviction, the way you are “you” no matter where you are or what situation you find yourself in. You know who you are.’

How do we ever engage in the pattern of thinking that we have to be someone else to be accepted? That we have to dress differently, think more philosophically, draw more artistically or work more methodically? Over the years I have changed, I have grown and matured, but it is not my core self that has changed… it is that my core strengths have been developed and the audacity of my dreams has been enlarged.

When we get to know someone else more intimately, our views of them change – our perceptions are given more ground and our opinion more authority, we become more relaxed in their presence and more respectful in their absence because we have made a personal connection. This analogy is true also for ourselves… when we know who we are, our opinion of ourselves and of others changes, our self-belief is given wings, our self-esteem is given validity, our dreams become tangible realities, our giftings are given qualified distinction and aloneness transcends from a fearful threat to an enticing respite. It is only when we know who we are that we can truly know and understand the world around us.

Are we ever truly conscious of our lives? Certainly we reflect on events that have shaped our lives, words which have had powerful ramifications or moments that define victory or defeat… but what of the smaller moments? Those insignificant fragments of time which give to us no glorious rendition of enlightenment, glamour or success but are merely slow-passing moments which constitute the most part of our “journey”.

As I was driving home last night, I became acutely conscious of my life at that very moment in time. Falling rains distilled the silence of the evening, coldness had availed itself upon the earth whispering in its winds the promise of an early winter and streetlights became like golden flames made alive by the periodic swiping of windscreen blades. Yet it was not only the physical surroundings to which my awareness was drawn but rather what constituted my life at that very moment – my ever-present thoughts and challenges, the clothes which I was wearing, the current songs which hallmarked this period in time, the house in which I lived and how it felt – however normal or mundane it may be envisioned – to drive up my driveway, habitually lock the car in carefree fashion, turn the somewhat rusted brass knob of my front door and walk in. Will I have this car in a few years time, will the house I now call my home be the very same one which I enter five years down the track and will I still step into a darkened noiseless hallway or will it be filled with light and the sound of voices? What books am I reading, how are they changing my views? What friends do I call dear, how are they investing into my life and developing me as an individual? What thought are impressing upon my mind, will they even be relevant a month or year from now?

If life retains its consistency of change and forward movement as it always has… it is virtually impossible for us to maintain our lives as they are now for any lengthened period of time. Our opinions and ambitions change as our mind matures, our circumstances re-invent themselves and bring with them new challenges and opportunities, our dress sense is influenced by the seasons and fashions and are minds are continually broadened by politics, social movement and societal expectations causing us to adopt new thought, philosophy and heightened ambition.

With the view that indeed our lives will be different a day, a week, a month, or a year from now… I think it important for the moment to relish in what defines us TODAY. To recognise who we are not in 10 years time but in this very moment, for inevitably that realisation and recognition is what will give depth, perspective and enrichment to our lives in the future.

Life sometimes poses to us, decisions that must be made which will direct the course of history. Their consequences delicately balance upon two very diverse and opposing outcomes – one of considerable threat to the emotional balance of our universe, and the other being silhouetted in the promise of unmatched opportunity and unknown freedoms. The most comfortable choice venerates painlessness, esteems complacency and almost always guarantees a certain emotional stability in its retreat; however more often that not, this so-called easy choice compromises our very belief system and distills in us an insuppressible absence of peace.

It is the second choice that we fear the most. For though its promises far outweigh those guaranteed in the safe realm of living, its hardships are equally extreme. Though unequalled breakthrough may be the assurance of our choices, rising forth from the shadows are murmurs of quantifiable threat and momentary instability, isolation of thought and fierce battles of mind and in the dark of indecision rumors grow of the toils and threats that confront the paths of the ruthless.

Some abandon the pensive thoughts that plague them by suppressing any notions of change into a quiet and darkened room of their mind. There, these agitations are compelled to stay in silent protest until another moment convenes sometime in the future that seeks to bring their case to justice. Others however count the cost, though great it may be, and reprieve these unsettled issues of mind of the imprisonment which they suffer. They launch into the deep waters of the unknown and stake themselves at the very edge of vulnerability, realising it to be the only way of being granted true freedom.

In the movie Tomb Raider 2, there is a dramatic scene which seeks to juxtapose the two strongest of emotions – love and conviction in face-to-face combat, and challenge which is the stronger of the two. In the silence of a moment with tears running down her face, Lara Croft pulls the trigger and shoots the very person she loves in order to stay true to her convictions and the responsibility that has been endowed upon her life.

The gun I held in my hand not so long ago possessed no physical properties, only symbolic intent. It took every bit of strength within me to pull the trigger but, with tears rolling down my face – I did. I chose the road less traveled, forfeiting the siege of heart-drawn emotion to stay true to the strength of my convictions and my inherent responsibilities. It’s not an easy choice to make but looking back a few weeks later with a sense of unexplainable peace – I will always know that it was the right choice.

When I was in Amsterdam in 2002, a group of us traveled to the city markets where I was, much to my chagrin, given the assignment of initiating conversation with three random individuals to gain a wider understanding of the demographics, background, ethnicity and cultural diversity of the famous multi-national European hub. I considered the mission to be a meaningless diversion which would achieve little more than social malingering but, discarding my personal indifference; I complied with the task given.

It’s paradoxical and seemingly ironic that when I reflect on my travels through Europe, my excursion to the Amsterdam market lingers as one of the most poignant memories of my time abroad. In my disconcerted rationale, I had approached the task in a sterile and diagnostic fashion – seeking statistics, information and ‘data’ but had overlooked the very object itself – humanity. I talked to a lady selling watches who told me her story, how she came to be in Holland, how she forfeited a life of wealth and affluence for the price of love, her travels as a young girl, her experiences as an older woman… I was humbled by the realization that information and ‘data’ will be forgotten and superseded in days, months or years but I will forever remember this woman’s story as long as I live.

Everyone has a story; a narrative of their lives that is unlike any other. Some stories are tragic, others are heroic, some command the admiration and following of thousands, others evoke hatred and revulsion. Whether they are revered, spurned, remembered or forgotten – every story is unique. War, suicide and human tragedy is interwoven with adventure, family and love, Kindness is juxtaposed with iniquity, abundance with poverty, weakness with strength. Some fight for liberty, for their voice to be heard, for freedom, constitution or independence, others simply fight for their right to live.

We live in a world of diverse experiences, freedoms, rights and histories, yet somehow we think that everyone should be or is ‘just like us’. We stereotype others based on ‘information’, our relationships border on superficiality, our conversations are steeped with substance-lacking statements and pleasantries and our motives are almost entirely self-serving. My experience in Amsterdam and the memory of people met in countless nations and situations of my life remind me daily that the fabric of humanity is distinguished not through the transposition of information or emotionless ‘data’, but rather through the uniquely compelling and inspiring stories of individual’s search for meaning, direction and truth and their bold assertion of self, regardless of prevailing circumstances.