Humility, Balance

It is interesting how the virtues we deride can so easily become insidiously engrained within our own being, and how blind we can be to their influence upon us...

Recently, I have observed an obsession with appearance. I justify it through multiple means, such as striving for functionality, or just an arrogant sense of superiority that I am opposed to traditional stereotypes of appearance. I can perceive in my mind, however, the tendency to seek validation through an appearance, through phrases such as "If only I were this much more fit" or some such thing, or to look at my physique and compare it to some ideal of mine, which is not even a defined one.

I believe I can appreciate appearance, that it is an aesthetically desirable element, but any obsession is unhealthy, and particularly this one. Thus, I am aspiring to recognize each moment where I look to validate my existence or eliminate existential distress through manipulating my appearance. Even in writing this, I struggle to avoid providing a particular image of myself that I feel is not what I am actually attempting to communicate. Not that I believe there is anything inherently wrong with attempting to avoid portraying a false image of myself, but it is important to observe, I believe, this phenomenon.

There is background to this neurosis, of course. There is some internal and persistent fear of being undeserving of existence. I have been aware of it for a while, but have not been able to confront it directly. I have instead sought to validate my existence through unrestrained personal growth: learning multiple languages, training multiple hours a day, mathematics, science, philosophy, meditation, music, etc...

Upon injuring myself recently, however, in a multitude of ways (right ball of foot swollen, right arch of foot punctured, left leg soaked in blood and now has a hole in it, right wrist sprained, right index finger sprained, lower back sprained), I have had no choice but to slow my pace...

I have realized the importance of balance. If I strive for greatness, then the more I strive, the more I will need to balance with introspection and rest. I have rediscovered simple pleasures, silence, and just sitting back and watching life as it happens. Not meditation, not reflection, just... observation...

Back in Miami - Part 1

My own anger and unhappiness leads me to lash out. As I wallow, an ant approaches. Without thinking, I kick it, refraining barely at the last moment. Too late. I try to set him on his feet, but one leg is broken. And now he limps.

What have I done?

I have let my quest for... superiority? whatever it is, I have let it become a fuel for a misery that I inflict upon an unwitting sentient ant. How long befores this consumes me further?

It is pervasive today, anger, arrogance, judgment. How do I release it? Or do I catalyze it, use it as fuel for the creative process? It is in creation that I find my liberation, perhaps?

But not solely, either. I also require interaction with others, and homeostatic disuption, a stress-induced growth, on more than the physiological level. I require it emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, philosophically... grammatically.

"Shabbat Shalom"

Before a marble stone staircase I stood, head craning upwards, apprehensive and slightly afraid. At the apex were 3 sets of grand mahogany doors. I circled the periphery of the building, trying side doors, to no avail. I stood before those imposing doors, contemplating the consequences my various options.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. There was no choice. I walked up the stairs, my legs beginning to feel gelatinous. I tried the first set of doors. Locked. I pulled open the second set of doors, looming over me. As they opened, the pace of my heart began to rise. My anxiety became more visceral.

Immediately upon stepping inside, a kind man said to me, "Shabbat Shalom." I whispered it back. In my dazed confusion, I meandered about. 2 kind souls gestured to me, beckoning this stranger forth. I sat with them, and they made me feel welcome.

I knew I had come to the right place when the rebbe, a woman, began to sing, and the entire congregation followed suit. I was in a room of angels, and they were clapping, singing, humming, swaying.

At first, I mouthed the songs, clapped silently, afraid to establish any presence of my own. But I realized, this was a safe space. I felt my voice stir in my chest, and I sung.

I look forward to next friday.

Honk! Music Festival

Yom Kippur

On Yom Kippur that just passed, we (Jews) are expected to reflect and repent for our transgressions against God (as opposed to others). I do not believe in God, but I think that repenting for the transgressions of character, for my internal weaknesses, is the approach bearing most resemblance. In fact, I take it from Mussar, the Jewish approach to character development.

So what have been my character flaws this past year? How have I sinned? For what shall I prostrate myself, beg for forgiveness, strive to redeem myself?

1. Tainting my mind and body with pharmacological substances (I have since renounced intoxication)
2. Wasting time with petty distractions (facebook, e-mail, television, walking back and forth contriving that I am accomplishing something of significance)
3. Being without humility. I can accept my arrogance, but only if I can be humble as well. I have seen myself as superior to others. There is not excuse for that.
4. Being without gratitude. I have so much, yet have found it so easy to see the unpleasant, the undesirable... When I have tried to be grateful, I have done it with words, but without visceral emotion.
5. Being impatient. When I am distracted by another person from some task, regardless of its importance or merit, I find myself quickly upset, even if that person has much more to offer, in the way of connectedness, that whatever activity I am engaged in.
6. Being disordered. I have let chaos reign.
7. Being unenthusiastic. This life is a blessed gift. Every moment should be a revelation, a dance, a joy... even the worst moments, the slowest moments... It is not sadness that inhibits my unenthusiasm, however, but routine... I should see that no moment is ever to be repeated, that it is entirely unique...

I take measures to correct these deficits, but these measures have not been sufficient. I intend to redevelop my approach...

the subtle sway
on a darked say
of leaves and thoughts
tranquility not bought
nor found nor made
but unfolded
then it fades
like the flowers bloom
or midnight moon
like the inferno of my insecurity
or footsteps in a stairwell
fears rise and quell
but it all passes
in what
it amasses
but without form or feature
becomes your teacher
the ever-changing,
slightly deranging
a waltz, a tango
savored, a mango
or resisted, quicksand
do you open your fist
to reveal your hand
do you push and pull
against the tide,
eating when full
dead before died.

meaningless struggles

I'll never be
clever, brave, charming
Nor have in my possession,
some smile capable of disarming
I would never trade my dismay,
or this perpetual void,
for the moment you'd stay, for then
I'd become android.
Not, not this flawed
weak, scared, small,
mass of self-doubt,
trying to stand tall
No, I would never,
push the button,
pull the lever
try to be
anything better,
than this pitiful human that I am,
arrogant and proud,
in my meaningless struggles.