Everything I Tell You is Hearsay

More Explodingdog synchronicity

(ō’vər-kə-rĕkt’)

v.tr.
To correct beyond what is needed, appropriate, or usual, especially when resulting in a mistake.

American Heritage Dictionary

Also, meaningful;

An over-compensation of a mechanical fault during the performance of a motor skill.

I am full of myself. Vain. Arrogant. I have unwarranted self-confidence and an insufferable tendency to boast. Even the very exercise I am now engaged in, all too closely mimics mental masturbation, eh?

Ah, me.

But it is unquestionably the case that this is the result of a swerve, wild and desperate, that I have not yet gotten a handle upon. Meant to avoid remaining bedraggled and bruised, pitiable and pathetic, lost in self-loathing. It was a coping mechanism, not so unusual, to try and repair damage untold, as dealt by indifferent parenting and unenviable circumstance. But like most things meant to help us cope, if we rely on them too heavily, they create a host of new problems which must then be confronted; mastered.

I believe my braggodocio springs in no small part from an odd quirk of mine that developed as a result of my “mechanical fault.” While quite small I was functionally blind. I could see shapes and light and color, but nothing was in focus, and there was two of everything. It made it nearly impossible for me to navigate in the world. I wasn’t totally sightless, so I didn’t rely as heavily on my other senses as I could have. I was constantly running into things, falling down, tripping, and generally hurting myself repeatedly through my stubborn determination to get where I was going, under my own steam and at top speed.

My older sister, and mother, took to shouting warnings at me when I was about to run into trouble. Brandy particularly took it upon herself to follow me around and warn me when I was about to bump into something, when there was danger I might fall, or if there was something I could trip over in my path. As noble as her efforts were, I have noticed that it has instilled in me a need to hear something, before I can truly absorb it. I do not trust the evidence of my other senses quite so thoroughly. Additionally, it has created a tendency to rely on the assertions of other people altogether too much when evaluating my self-worth, circumstances, or correct course of action.

So, I say what I want to believe, that I can hear it and thus accept it as true. I say it to other people in hopes they will agree with me and give the declaration greater credence. My assertions are almost always uncertainty waiting to become assurance.

And I will not claim to have ever even tried humility on for size. I think I bridled at the notion of it, seeing it as somehow in conflict with my favorite virtue Truth. To fail to pronounce my strengths, as well as my many, sundry faults, would be to deny the truth of who and how I am. When I encountered the trait in people I admired, I always found it baffling:

“But, you’re awesome!! Why aren’t you telling everyone in earshot??”

Because it turns out, most people don’t require this kind of mechanism to believe good things about themselves. They just sort of do. They prefer to demonstrate their worth by their deeds, quietly and with grace.

Someone recently mentioned to me that their approach to life was to underpromise and overdeliver. I saw firsthand evidence of how lovely it could be to be on the other side of that course. The surprise and sense of discovery were profoundly satisfying. And it dawned on me that I have denied anyone who has ever met me the pleasure of that sort of revelation. I am so quick to tell them all there is to know about me, they have no chance to see and decide for themselves. This is especially important when I am forced to admit that not everything I “know” about myself is true for everyone else.

And I am tempted, for the first time, to try this humility thing after all. To pull the wheel slowly towards center, and proceed…

From Wikipedia

traditionally meant the condition of having sensation (including the feeling of pain) blocked or temporarily taken away.

Current recipie: podcasts, shopping, sleep. It has not been entirely effective.

I am aggrieved it feels so necessary.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn’t make any sense.   ~Rumi

There is an almost constant din in my head. I find it hard to slow the spinning and be still, silent. I am thinking, worrying, dithering, plotting, reviewing, nigh on ceaslessly. Meditation leaves me feeling more anxious, mostly because I cannot seem to locate the peaceful place to simply be and breathe. It is a valuable pursuit, the attempt, but I rarely access that particular quiet.

I like to communicate, and I fear being misunderstood. It is perhaps one of my less endearing traits, this constant need to explain myself. I feel it, even with regard to things that don’t need much explanation. I find it difficult, in company, to let silence occur, to stretch.

http://steveheartsill.blogspot.com/2010/08/quiet-100-words.html

So I am following the noise, back to it’s source. I want to ensure I realize I hear me, so that the clamor can subside, once I acknowledge whatever it is trying to tell me. Perhaps the work of listening and gently letting the message echo away will help me get closer to the inner quiet.

And, for once, it pretty much is.

Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life.

- Thich Nhat Hanh

This, is tough. I dither, I worry, I fret, I mull. I chase myself around in my head with supposition and memory. Relentless questions about future and past…

Why did I do that thing,? What will I do next time I am in the same situation? What if I am never in that situation again? What does that person really think of me? Am I doing enough?

When I was in college I took a compulsory Theology class as a part of my coursework at the University of Portland. That series remains one of the most personally satisfying and enriching parts of my post-secondary education. It was fascinating and informative, but more, it was both pleasurable and practical. As part of the curriculum for the class, the Sister teaching the course had included Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh and this very simple text, using spare language and gentle revelation has helped me be a happier and more contented person ever since it first came into my hand. It remains one of the only textbooks I still own that I refer to on a regular basis.

Hanh speaks at length about breathing and smiling. These two incredibly simple things often get overlooked in the daily bustle of life, but they are, indeed, the very fundament of well-being. At one point in the text he exhorts one to smile even if you do not feel like smiling, and soon you will. The very decision to smile, and putting your face into the act, actually creates the concomitant emotional response. I was incredibly skeptical about this, but I tried it; it never ceases to surprise me, though it works every time.

The message of the book is simple to understand, but can be difficult to realize. That every moment is a wonderful moment if you are present and awake to the pleasures it has to offer; the sensation of feeling your breath, wearing your smile, the warmth of dishwater on your hands, the weight of your child’s head on your shoulder. These are all available in the quiet moments between the bustle and movement we so often consider our “real” life, but they are what make up the bulk of the joy we have access to at any given time, and are as easy to come by as deciding to do so.

And since now is all anyone ever has, it is comforting and joyous to know that now can always be a moment to notice the wonder all around us, and smile for it.

What would you be?”

A stranger recently posed this one.  Anyone who knows me would know better. They wouldnt even consider asking, because they know I am scared of fish, and thus, imagining myself as a sea creature would be pretty much the worst sort of torture. And also, that hypotheticals of this type are annoying in the extreme and no one I consent to hang out with would ask such a stupid question.

However, when I refused to answer it for the person who did not know better, he did have a follow up question that set me thinking about something that was worth considering. He asked if I didn’t like hypothetical questions, did that mean I was unimaginative. And I realized, that yes, indeed, it sort of does.

 I think about things, in obsessive detail, but rarely make things up in my head. I am reflective, rather then generative, in most cases. I feel I am a good critic, in that it is a pleasure for me to asborb and weigh the work of another; to turn it over in my head and try to see it from all angles, inside and out. I like to play with language and thoughts, but mostly as an atrifact of something I have already taken in from elsewhere. The only “art” I even come close to feeling any chance of making decent is photography, but even that, deals often in concrete and I draw inspiration from observing what is not by conjuring what does not yet exist.

I do not however, as his question implied, say this in the vein of admitting this as a shortcoming. I think it is simply a matter of fact that some people are better at creating their own reality and then expressing it to others through various mediums, and others are better at interpreting the realities they encounter and functionalizing them. I happen to be of the latter stripe, but know damn well both are needed for a fully realized and satisfying creative endeavor to thrive.

I do not suffer from my failure of imagination; it just leaves me with the space to better appreciate what can be born of someone else’s.

Imagination III By realityDream from DeviantArt.com

From Explodingdog

What with everything else I had to say today, this seemed too apt to resist…

“The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly” Richard Bach

from www.animalspedia.com

It is hard to let go of our beliefs about how things are. For some reason it is especially hard to do when “the way things are” has been difficult or frightening. We can become so deeply committed to our own point of view that we may not be able to imagine a future where our life could become something entirely different, and in some cases, amazing. We can choose to ensconce ourselves in a set of beliefs about what is that, originally meant to protect us, can leave us in darkness and unable to move. 

There is a common logical fallacy known as the Appeal to Tradition. It hinges on the notion that just because something always has been true that it will continue to be true going forward. Like most fallacies, on first blush, it seems to make sense; things are this way because the events have led them to be thus. Things will most likely proceed as they have, creating the same results. However, this denies a wealth of truth about the nature of the universe and the timbre of the human condition. We are constantly undergoing change at the cellular, psychic, emotional, and intellectual level. Even if we do not feel these changes during the course of our everyday lives, we are literally and in every sense entirely different people at the end of our lives than we were at it’s beginning.

I am noticing, as I proceed with this project, that most of the quotes I am coming across in my random, haphazard way are about dealing with change. I think this is partially because most of the self-reflective traditions, such as religion and philosophy, are concerned with trying to help people cope with change in a positive way. But I also believe in synchronicity; the concept of meaningful coincidence. I believe that for the first time in a long time, I am ready to undertake tremendous changes. I know I should and do expect to see great rewards as a result of this process. I am also experiencing a fair amount of anxiety and trepidation about these changes, for even though I have not been entirely content for some time, neither did I feel resilient enough to risk the dangers of an untested flight.

I suspect it is no accident that I am coming across these pieces of truth that assure me that though these changes can be frightening, or can literally mean the end of life as I know it, that life as I know it hasn’t always been worth the living. That life as I have never known it offers possibilities for joy that I am eager to discover, if only I am brave enough to break through the truths I have embraced to protect me, and fling myself into an unknown of limitless potential.