Here is another installment of the inner workings of my mind. I would like to think that I'm in a frame of mind that (mostly) chills me out and helps me find perspective.
As I have been working to write it out and make sense of it enough to share, it seems ridiculous. But I'm alright with that right now.
I acknowledge that death is inevitable and with what I know, there is no way to avoid the end for myself or those around me. I'm not going down the whole "what is the point" path of despair, or "you only live once" flippant attitude. I work to be present in the moments I share with others and with myself. To immerse myself in activities I find valuable or fulfilling, knowing that my feelings, opinions, and experiences will most likely change.
This isn't too say I've mastered this, it is just what I strive for.
In my last post I talked about how I feel people lack perspective and empathy, how they are the superheroes in their own story, and ... actually if you haven't read it, I recommend you do. This post may make a little more sense with all that in mind.
I feel that where we disconnect from those around us is our unconscious process "othering". We may be able to agree that we are all individuals trying to survive conceptually, but as we make decisions and process our daily lives I would argue that we don't generally process all of those around us in our lives.
The process of making someone else an "other", a disposable character in our overarching life, seems to be an unconscious act. If we treated everyone as a primary character and interacted meaningfully with literally every person we crossed, it would be debilitating. When I take the effort to pull outside of my own head and my own narrative to see the person next to me, or the person who I feel may have hurt me, it changes how I choose to react. It doesn't change my feelings, I still feel hurt, confused, happy, or sad. I see feelings more as a hard wiring that I may not be able to change. But I can come to a place of acceptance and be more deliberate with my actions.
So, how can we acknowledge the perspective and struggle of others without taking from our own? My answer, I don't know.
There are so many layers and elements to this thought that I find myself stumbling over concepts, and I feel like I need to clarify or explain further. I get caught up in my thoughts. How do I clarify a point when I don't know what questions will follow? Am I able to re-explain? Do I just trash the whole idea? What was I explaining anyway?
I've found my mind makes those around me different, now that I've identified it, I have been working to alter it, to tweak it, to attempt to expand my perspective. It has changed how I interact with others and I feel I am able to better connect, though I may never understand why something was said, or why an action was taken. Its been a hell of a trip.
So, how can we acknowledge the perspective and struggle of others without taking from our own? My answer, I don't know.
There are so many layers and elements to this thought that I find myself stumbling over concepts, and I feel like I need to clarify or explain further. I get caught up in my thoughts. How do I clarify a point when I don't know what questions will follow? Am I able to re-explain? Do I just trash the whole idea? What was I explaining anyway?
I've found my mind makes those around me different, now that I've identified it, I have been working to alter it, to tweak it, to attempt to expand my perspective. It has changed how I interact with others and I feel I am able to better connect, though I may never understand why something was said, or why an action was taken. Its been a hell of a trip.
I spoke with a friend (thanks Dave!) about these thoughts and he helped me to find a word to sum up the experience:
This can be a bit jarring, yet feel obvious. I would say it is the opposite side of the spectrum is believing that everyone else in the world is a robot, which is a whole different bag of complexity and concern.
sonder: n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.
This can be a bit jarring, yet feel obvious. I would say it is the opposite side of the spectrum is believing that everyone else in the world is a robot, which is a whole different bag of complexity and concern.
So what now? It is unclear to me, but I'm OK with that. I value those in my life and will do what I can to be intentional with my time and theirs if they choose to share it with me. Also, accepting that I'll faultier and forget.
For those who choose to other me and account for only themselves. They can continue to live in their own world, I don't need to be a part of it. And I'm good with that.