Revision

How to re-tinker with a world of many more yous

It’s impossible to revisit a work in the same mental space as we began it. There is purity on completion of something in a sitting, as it is the only span when we are that person. Even if a phrase of inspiration is captured to be explored another time, these are mere breadcrumbs that will never be enough to reconstitute who we were in those moments. As an ever growing masterpiece, however, a seminal work is never quite... finished.

We are, all of us, currently revising past visions of the person we thought we would be today.

But how I wish I could return to the person who wrote a book for no-one, not even myself. Like all my efforts, I had to blame the motive on an imaginary somebody, though I convinced myself they were still there, as I can't ethically take any action if it isn't hidden behind the idea that I did it for someone special. I wrote in cyphers that not even I could fully understand. How quickly we become manipulators, disfiguring what came to us in an attempt to spread it more widely, penpointing definitions so that someone may have a chance to read it.

“Are you an author?”

“I ‘finished’ a ‘book,’ though it is hardly either.”

“Where is it? Just online somewhere?”

“Ya it's out there, I never published it, I don’t know if I ever will.”

“Why not”'

“If nobody wants to read it, I don’t see why it would be worth the effort.”

“Do it for yourself at least… so you can look back on an actual something that you made.”

All of it incomplete, as is life, complete in its incompleteness. A reason for the mind to continue, hoping for a happy ending.

All of this... it is just my thoughts. A result that someone, someday in the past gave me with a glancing notion that I should share my ideas. I didn’t much have a motivation, I gain more by keeping quiet and reconciling my mental jigsaw in a comfy chair via scribbles that I preferred nobody would read. I could keep my confusion as a puzzle with ever morphing pieces, ready for me to mash them together into a new comforting perception. It was my little game for my little self, designed so that only I could win. Nobody to question, nobody to challenge, just me and my precious little words that I likely cherish too much, having little efficacy with no eyes to read them.

None of this was all that long ago, inspiring wonder if there is a nearby conclusion. So much of me has changed since I started, so I consider that I may not have an opportunity to revise my original works. That may be the nature of writing and releasing, creating space for new ideas to settle in.

You Me and The Lesser Known We

The more I write the more I realize how little I know about everything, most of all myself. I often wonder if people perceive my views as ignorant arrogance or stubborn superiority. Likely my thoughts stem from a whisper’s home in the back of my mind that wants to believe I'm special, gifted, or placed here for a grand purpose. People don't want to hear that: "I'm exceptional and destined for something, what about you?"

There aren't many who, when asked, can eloquently produce an impactful purpose for their activity. It's easier to choose a nearby goal than one which could take lifetimes to achieve. Sadly, at the end of a goal placed too close, we must choose another one, or be left in vacuity.

To believe we are destined for greatness, or that we are simply another manifestation of a mundane human being, wandering in the pursuit of happiness.

You can be both if you want, I support you.

We need but one timely voice to continue being us. It takes a depth of trust to hear it when it comes, sometimes from a stranger or lines in the sand. That may be the only belief we need: the one that knows we don't need a heap of others to confirm it's ok to be ourselves.

Being me means embracing that I will always seek a new me, a fluid identity, a someone who can be what needs to be for what is happening now. Beware of common advice: "never change, we like you this way," especially heard from loved ones, who unconsciously restrict exploring some new way of living.

An alternative: I’ll still love you when you change, but I’m enjoying the you I get today.

It can appear as unnecessary nitpicking of well intended pithy quotatiousness — always altering words with precision.  Fortunately and simultaneously tragically, humans are gifted subjectivity, allowing us to derive the beauty or the ugly from any statement.  But even a mangled tree is beautiful, so look upon this as carvings on digital trees.  Often we need little tinkering to envision a better future together.

A little wordy, but you’re worth it

Groups take on an influence, a calling to the individual that she should pretend to be like them. It leaches individuality for what? A chance for one of those optimistic voiced reminders? We all search for something, sometimes a small thing in large places or a far thing in close places. As humans, that something is often carried by other humans. So we act accordingly to keep some of them around. Without them, could we be strong enough to believe in ourselves?

Complex Inferiority

Believing ourselves to be inferior makes failure likely. When everyone is so distinctly better, why even try? Carrying humility along on a quest towards unbelievable goals can hinder the mission. In moments of contentment and balance I rarely have any drive to do anything other than sit with a friend and observe the world. All that I say and subsequently write comes from a minuscule slice of life I currently experience, that which narrows every day as I develop more preferences for my reality. Beliefs build on those slim chances to see more than me, but as I converse I feel that by speaking more, even when accompanied by benevolent open arms aimed outward, I am teaching myself more than anyone. Without care limiting views that were created by me for me are reinforced by justification that I am helping someone else. I often forget to listen, having crafted 10 new ideas for every statement I hear. My deafening opinion infects everything, worst of all the silent patience necessary for another to present a new idea that could actually change my world. Introspection is fun until it cannibalizes itself, losing touch with the boundaries that keep it from shrinking into a bloody pulp that can no longer be recognized.

Fair inequality

If we are to believe ourselves as equals, a comparison is still being made. It is at best a delusion that we wish was true while the subconscious still ranks all those we interact with. It is a recipe for smug righteousness that increasingly bakes itself into an identity that hinders any further growth. The crust hardens on airy statements that lack meaning having been regrown on unoriginal cultures. To "have arrived" is to stagnate, a regression in itself. The rest of the conscious world works towards progress, uncovering truth these "equals" aren't willing to speak of, fearing they may be singled out as the "enemy" who they claim to be the real culprit. Woke fraudulence infects the uniformed — an excuse to hide any real opinion — as fear mongering grows a widening circle. Weak sycophants praise corrupt idols who point around at phantoms that are always conveniently out of reach.

Delusional progress

The best way to relentlessly attack a future is to unequivocally believe and assert that the eventuality you imagine is predetermined by your own wishes. Conscious delusion is a tool too — razor-sharp and intricately imbalanced — to be skillfully utilized by unpracticed fools.

Silent wins

There are a growing number of advertised examples of "successful" people who say things like: "you can't fail if you never give up." It's fun motivational jargon, but it cannot be that everyone with a dream needs only to keep going to achieve it.

Discipline can't guarantee success, but lack of discipline guarantees failure.

Not everyone can win, but people don't listen to losers. Given a singular goal with many competitors, it is not the unwavering will of an individual that makes the star. That's just the guy we listen to after, he has a more compelling story. We want what he has. He can't know precisely what transpired for him to win, but he can pin it on something easy, something we like to hear. Second, third, all the way down to last place then need to construct a complex belief system to support why they weren't chosen. More importantly they have a decision, whether to pivot or quit.

Newsflash! Sometimes you suck and should do something else.

Most days I’m just eating my own words. As I love to say: we find who we truly are when the world appears as uncertain bewilderment. Often we forget that losers are the majority, making most of us feel unheard. Nobody teaches us how to properly lose with grace and gratitude of another indication of what to do next, and the reminder that there is more silent searching to be done. That sense is precisely what points to the thing we search for so desperately.

Commonly success is cultivated from an imbalance, an obsession, a refusal to let that stupid thing go. It’s a nagging thing, always biting at our heels, nibbling on the quiet moments when you thought it was time to rest. It always remembers when we set it aside for a “me” day, or succumb to peers relaxing after a “long” day. Those definitions can’t be set by others. As longer days beget longer days we become accustomed to torturing ourselves towards this thing. And that thing, the feeling I get when I say thing, as if there was a question mark forcing me to squint and peel my lips and poke my tongue between my teeth. That wincing curiosity is the only indication I have that it is what I should be doing.

Humans are behavioral addictions, it is less of a choice what not to do and more of what to replace the devious nagging with. Everyone has a thing. It floats as if silent, but is the loudest sound when quiet comes, reminding us that there is still work to be done.

A Superior Paradox

Inferior minds point at deficiencies as a method of comparison. Finding all that is bad about another to boast their superiority, they are left in a precarious position. There is no room for growth, nobody to learn from, and no equals to rely upon. They can continue to develop their lonely island, but reaching farther is an effort towards further isolation. The imprint they make is merely redeveloped film — living in a limited dimension — surviving only by increasing the vibrancy of the same world view.

Wise minds know the quibbles, but instead focus on the things which make a solution better. You can still win if you look with optimistic realism at the opportunities at hand. Win-wins are everywhere if time is invested in looking. True wisdom is found in our commonalities, not our differences.

I wish I didn’t have any ____ complexes at all. Then, and possibly only then, could I see the universe as it is rather than as a failure of what I wanted it to be.

So I build and collapse, build and collapse, my internal civilization grappling for power in the universe, improving little worlds to barter with others imagining that today is finally the day my tiny citizens are living in consolidated peace, instead of in pieces from previous errors.

A reminder...

"... It's not an error. Where you are now with all your neurosis and your problems; you're sitting in just the right place. Imagine that."