Category: Thoughts uncut

Who am I—

The first thing family and friends do when a child is born, is assess who the child resembles.

Ears like the grandmother, fingers like the mother, forehead like the father, and a frown like the uncle.

It’s quite common to expect children that immortalise not only the physical traits of their family but also spiritual qualities like cultural beliefs, philosophical convictions, and habitual preferences.

The more I think about it, the more I realise that I’m my family—I’m everything my parents are. The way I walk, the way I raise my voice when annoyed, or the way I wipe my mouth on my sleeve (hey, don’t judge) all resemble someone influential in my family.

I imitated and then adopted the behavioural characteristics of those I grew up observing. It’s natural—we all take hints from our environment.

From a young age, we see family as our sole resource to facing and navigating the rest of the world. And so it’s unsurprising that we inherit physical traits, as well as mindsets and ideologies. They aren’t too defined when we’re born, but as we grow up, revelling in the same practices, they become more pronounced in our lives—like religion and political opinions.

We tend to follow certain beliefs because we’ve always followed those beliefs. We don’t stop to wonder why we asset what we assert.

Therein lies the biggest problem of our society. Since we never challenge the status quo, we become blind to its weaknesses, building up a society that lacks both sense and sensibility.

To combat this, however, we should embrace change. Often underrated, change is a powerful indicator of how we live our lives. It’s a harsh speed breaker that forces us to stop and think why we do what we do. It helps us realise what we so often let slip by. When we move to a different environment, or surround ourselves with a radical community, we’ll find that our mindset also shifts. We envelope new beliefs, fresh perspectives, and even transformational characteristics.

When we change our environment with utmost consciousness, it elicits our innermost being, and brings forth the person we want to be. We’ll get to choose—among the various traits that we’re both with—which ones to follow, to ignore, and to evolve. When we surround ourselves with the right people, we may have—with time—the power to reorganise our behaviour.

Different cultures bring out different characteristics in us, and with precise choice we can forge a desirable future for ourselves—regardless of our inheritance.

Habits can kill

“Routine is lethal”

A confidant once told me that routine is lethal. Because it sounded sophisticated and kind of cool, I agreed without a second thought. It also made so much sense to me—too much of anything is good for nothing, right?

But in the three years since I first heard that statement, I’ve been mulling it over in my brain so many times that I’ve begun to see it from a different angle. Even though I’m still in vehement agreement with that idea, I can’t help but wonder if there’s another perspective to it.

I follow a routine. I wake up at the same time each day and end up at work well before anyone else. I do that on purpose because I like getting in some quiet hours before people start coming in and continue the previous day’s gossip. Small talk is an essential part of the morning for most people and even though I don’t engage, it’s distracting to be around it. My solution to avoiding it is to work up a routine where I work earlier than the rest of them.

Not only do I finish a lot of my work, but I’m also more peaceful at mind. I enjoy the silence and the space it gives me to muse on my musings. I love that routine. In the same way, I leave work at the same time every day so I can get some me-time. It’s another routine that prioritises me and one I’m happy to fall into.

Routines aren’t lethal. They’re lifesaving.

However, the more I wondered about my friend’s statement, and the more I pondered on my own reality, I soon understood that there’s another side to this coin.

Sometimes routines become so routine that we lose sight of their purpose. We start doing things just for the sake of doing them, forgetting why we even do them in the first place. Most people stuck at a nine-to-five job don’t realise they’re stuck.

There’s a fine line between those who choose to follow a routine because they want to and those who follow a routine because that’s the norm. I’ve made that mistake myself and every time I catch myself doing something out of habit rather than of conscious choice, I find that it’s stresses me out.

I get frustrated that I’m doing this thing that I don’t want to but have to because that’s how I’ve always done it.

It’s senseless. It’s useless. And that’s the kind of routine that can kill our soul. Now that’s lethal.

Clear the mind

The world’s a large balloon stuffed with things that suffocate us.

It’s reality. We’re surrounded by things that bring us down and people who cloud our minds. Negativity runs amok and clarity goes askew.

At those times, though, we need to look into ourselves and seek out what’s precious to us. When life takes a wrong turn and everything seems gloomy, we find peace by focusing on ourselves.

—

Oftentimes, external stimuli affects us so much so that our internal self reflects it. I, for one, feel bloated and sick at heart when something in the family or at work upsets me. My physical body reacts to my mental state. That’s why it’s critical to achieve clarity of thought—because a lot more than the mind depends on it.

It’s not easy, to gain clarity, though. I often feel as if there’re countless things ravaging my mind that chaos reins within. It does. Although I accept it as a part of my life, I also know that it affects my health in more ways than one. That’s why I need to clarify my thoughts—cleanse my inner self, find something that puts my mind at ease and gives me peace. Because mental clarity is a promise of an unblocked path, a positive energy to help face the world.

I do everything I can to achieve that state. I satisfy myself doing what I love and what’s good for me—writing, eating clean, exercising, and reading. Writing helps me clarify—to myself—what I’m thinking, letting me get conflicting thoughts out where I can see them. That way, I can reflect and then move on. When I’m engaged in activities I enjoy, I tend to be happier and calmer. It’s from within that calm that comes my clarity.

Many vouch for surrounding ourselves with and embracing positive energy, but it’s far more necessary to ensure we’re void of negative people. Sometimes we force company on ourselves to avoid being alone. But unless the company is right, we only inflict misery upon ourselves. And when we’re miserable, our minds gather fog.

Regardless of everything we say and do, however, to achieve true peace of mind we should also possess broad thinking. Inertia and unwillingness to explore the untrodden path leads to a more tangled and twisted fate. Fear of the unknown clogs our minds and clouds our future. To power through the toughness that’s life, we should challenge ourselves to learning, and achieving our goals. Because when I want something from the whole of my heart, fear doesn’t stand in the way.

Fine and solo

I hate it when people barge in on me while I’m trying to get some me-time. That’s why I’m always wary of approaching others who seem fine at being alone. It so happened while I was waltzing off on my own in Alki beach, I saw a gentleman standing by the shore observing the coming and going of the waves. He stood there for a while in silent rumination about things I’d never discern. In a vast emptiness that surrounded us, for he and I were the only ones on the beach, he seemed oblivious to my existence.

Although I felt an itching urge to engage this man in an animated conversation, I refrained. I stood afar and watched him as he picked up a few shells, scrutinised them, and dropped some of them back. I never saw him turn around.

one in the crowd

Perhaps he had a grandchild who loved seashells, I thought as I walked away.

Dear Diary…

Writing in a diary is precious, isn’t it? The first time I realised its beauty I was reading The Diary of Anne Frank. Born into a Jewish family in Hitler’s Germany, Anne maintained a diary during the few years she and her family were hiding from captivation. Her father, the only survivor of the concentration camp that wiped out the family, published her diary. To this day it remains a stunning reminder and a heart-wrenching portrayal of the life of a teenager in wartime.

It was the emotions and the ultimate simplicity of that diary that inspired me to start writing my own diary. Every day I’d record my thoughts, frustration, observations, and general musings. When I looked at the entries months afterwards, I noticed a lot of silly mistakes. But I also saw a lot of potential and my true self coming out of the diary. That’s how I understood so many aspects and characteristics of myself. It was so sincere and so flippant that I saw myself for the first time.

I loved what I discovered so much so that I incorporated diary entries as part of a story I wrote. I had a couple of chapters dedicated to diary entries of my main characters. And I felt the difference, too. I dug deep into the character to extract their innermost emotions, because the diary of a character speaks truer words about them than the character themselves. It’s so because diaries are for personal readership. Anyone who keeps a journal knows that no one would and should read it but themselves. That gives them immense confidence to be themselves and let their guard down.

I did. That’s why I managed to impress myself so. It’s the same of anyone else. Because we know it’s private, we allow ourselves to be real. We charade our true emotions and opinions in public for fear of people hating or misunderstanding them. While we project what we want to project to the world, a diary is where we take a break and project our actual thoughts.

During a particular rough time in my life, I was so self-pitying. No one else who met me would’ve known that at the time. I didn’t realise it myself—until months later I read what I’d written in my diary. It’s such a harsh way of telling yourself who you are and I think that’s a pretty powerful technique in storytelling.

I just started reading a book that’s made up of nothing but diary entries. I’ve only read about 50 pages but I already see the depth at which a journal characterises the person. I see two different personalities in the same journal entry—one when the character narrates what they did in public, and the second when the character writes down how they felt at that moment. There’s a lot of interesting juxtaposition and a beautiful arc of a story.

Although it’s so good so far, I wonder if it’d get boring as the story progresses. Too much of a good thing, perhaps? I can’t wait to find out.