Yesterday is gone. Let go of the past.

 “Now we’re worse than exes. We’re friends.” -Anne Elliot 

I thought I was ready to hear from him. It’s been five months, or six months since we ended things and we went our separate ways. I don’t know when exactly things started unraveling. Maybe it was in October 2022 when we had our first conversation and I expressed doubts to him. But since we came together again after Christmas for our COVID quarantine, I would use March 2022 as a fairly good midpoint as our approximate end date. We kind of slid into the break up phase and had one really long and tortuous slow breakdown.

And so I thought I was ready. But I’m not. Reading that he was seeing someone and that it was a committed relationship was hard. I laid in bed after reading it first thing when I woke up. I should have waited. I let the information sink in. As I laid there, I felt the pressure slowly move across my chest. If there was an infrared picture that could be taken, I swear there would have been a shade of red spreading across my heart. Sadness and disappointment.

“Have a little pride in myself!”, my inner lioness whispered (it is after all morning and the household is still asleep). Who is this woman who’s claimed his heart or at least his attention? Knowing him, he’s already full on head over heels for her. I don’t really want to know, maybe not ever. Of course, I want him to be happy…with me. If not with me, then happy in a parallel universe.

In consoling me a few months ago, my cousin theorized that the conditions were not met for us to stay together. I loved him and I still do. Of course, love wasn’t the problem. It was the first adult relationship where I felt I could be myself, totally and honestly and I felt so loved and heard and understood until things started unraveling. The end was confusing and sad. We couldn’t decide who could have given more and didn’t, there were my growing pains away from my sister, and we were keeping mental tabs on all the deficiencies. I say “we” to be charitable but I don’t feel like I did. That was one of many problems afflicting us.

If life could be like Jane Austen’s Persuasion, we’d meet again in 8 years, and have a confusing reunion, realize that neither of us were truly happy without the other, and we’d make the commitment to be together against all odds. We’d make it work because we had to be together. There wouldn’t be question of if but how.

Life is not a book, sadly. Otherwise, I’d rewrite the ending of this relationship or rewrite it altogether and make it a romantic comedy. I’m tired of being sad and melancholy. The only thing I can do now is to let go of the past and see what we can build now from here. Wow, that sounds so grown up!

My journey (ongoing) from shy introvert to social introvert

As the world opens up more and more, it feels like the pandemic was a distant dream unless you go to Berkeley. There you’ll see customers in grocery stores diligently wearing their N-95’s or their surgical masks. You’ll even see some random drivers in their cars, sitting alone yet wearing a face mask. Your first inclination is to laugh and maybe lightly mock them but then you catch yourself doing the same thing. You realize it’s easier to wear a facemask everywhere rather than forgetting it when you need it or it becomes a fixture on your face and you forget you’re even wearing it. But for the most part, the world seems to have moved on until someone like the Queen of Denmark tests positive the day after attending Queen Elizabeth’s funeral and you see a photo of all the world dignitaries (with their heads encircled) marking their proximity to the Queen. Whoops. Everyone in that photo is probably regretting not having worn a face mask right about now.

In any case, you’ll likely find yourself being invited soon to gatherings like weddings and parties especially as the fall turns into winter and holidays commence. If you’re anything like me, you look forward to social gatherings with anticipation, dread, and anxiety.

I’ve never use to label myself as an introvert or extrovert. According to the few personality tests I’ve taken, I’m apparently more of an introvert but I can function in large gatherings. Just as an advance warning, don’t be taken aback by my directness. Sometimes, I want to be efficient and concise in my communication and I understand it can be misinterpreted. If you’re being kind, you can say I’m blunt. If you don’t want to believe in my good intentions, you can interpret my forthrightness as being tactless. Honestly, I rarely mean to hurt anyone’s feelings intentionally. So please try not to take it as a personal offense.

But enough of the preemptive apologies. My former partner described me as being “aspy” which was our code word for having characteristics that are on the “Asperger’s spectrum”. Key idea is that Asperger’s describes a spectrum of attributes ranging from minimal to maximum manifestation. I’ve never been assessed so I don’t know where I fall in the spectrum. But after having made aware of my tendencies, I try to adapt to the various settings I find myself in whether it be work or social related. I’m comfortable finally with who and how I am, but I’m aware that others may not be especially if they’re judging me from a perspective of a normal person. As my sister-in-law observed, I am definitely not normal or typical. Spend an hour or two with me and either you’ll like me a lot or you are very uncomfortable in my company. I seem to elicit the extreme reactions from people but that’s just me.

So, if you are introverted or aspy or both like me and you would like to engage in social settings with more ease, here are some of my tips cultivated from much experience, trial and error.

Tip #1: Be engaged or at least give the cues that indicate you are engaged.

Even when I don’t have something to contribute, a simple, “oh really”, “hmm”, “That’s very insightful” shows some engagement.

When the topic turns towards something you have no interest in, change the subject. But do it subtly.

However, don’t, simply don’t just zone out and mentally start reorganizing your closet or plan next week’s schedule in your head. People don’t have to be super astute to notice that you’re not paying attention. You might think that being a wallflower in a group is easy to pull off but you never know when you need to have their audience again. Better to set the best impression when any opportunity arises.

At the very minimum, before the conversation or discussion ends, make a comment. This applies to parties, conference calls, meetings, any gathering. Make your presence known at least once. A thoughtful comment is ideal but if you don’t have anything novel to add, rephrase or elaborate on what someone else has said, but have an opinion preferably one that can be backed up with some rationale. Otherwise, you may come across as a dilettante and that’s worse than being seen as disinterested.

Tip #2: Approach a cluster of people you don’t know.

This approach takes a bit of gumption but don’t talk yourself out of it. Almost everyone is nervous about talking to a group of strangers. Just go ahead and do it. The first time will be the hardest but it gets easier with practice.

Edge yourself into an existing circle of people, hopefully next to someone who you’ve made eye contact early on. Nod. Make eye contact with someone else you don’t know. Smile. Listen. Follow Tip #1.

Is there anything you can add? Ask a question, “May I ask what the debate is about?” Turn to your left. Ask a question inquiring about the other person, “So what brings you to So. Korea?” And do wait for a pause to interject. Don’t interrupt the conversation, to redirect an ongoing conversation. Otherwise, you’re just rude and an interloper.

Tip #3: Set boundaries.

When you first meet someone, set expectations and make it known to them. Rather than giving some fictitious story about an impending deadline, for an important project for example, be forth right and honest.

Start at the beginning of the conversation and somehow, drop hints that you’re an introvert such as you like spending time alone, you have limited mental breadth for socializing, etc.

“Oh, I kind of dread these things (parties) since I’m such an introvert.”

“I’ve loved working from home. It’s the introvert in me”.

C. Plan your departure

By now, you should be kind of aware of how much social interaction feels good to you and when you start feeling a little drained or when you’re aware of how hard you’re trying to keep an interaction going. That’s when it’s time to exit. But how? You really want to cut the conversation or whatever is left of it and jet out but that sometimes leaves a decidedly not a very good impression. Even if the other party is dull as white bread, you don’t have to be the person to burst their ego. Mastering your departure (yes, it does take some planning) takes some practice.

If you haven’t quite built up the courage to be plainspoken, you can mention that you have limited time to spend because you have an important deadline looming. It doesn’t have to be specific. Just enough details to give the impression that you think it was worthwhile coming despite your schedule. It gives both the impression to your audience that their time is wisely spent too and that your presence is appreciated.

Most importantly, leave when you intend to. Even when things are going well and you’re actually enjoying yourself, skedaddle. One, you don’t want to reveal that you stretched the truth earlier and 2) you want to leave on a high note. There’s also more reason for you to attend another outing or meeting or better yet plan one to host! Make your goodbyes short and sincere thanking the host for the invitation and their hospitality.

Doing the French leave. This approach is when you simply slip out without any formal goodbyes. This is the cleanest and most efficient departure method and most convenient in a large to medium party. Most people will think you’ve stepped out for a call or to use the powder room. This will avoid the lengthy and trailing goodbyes and niceties. This type of leave gives you an air of mystery without giving anyone cause for questioning why you’re leaving when you do. They’ll simply assume they missed you as you departed. And if you’re asked later why you left without saying goodbye, you can simply say that you were intending to but noticed they were already occupied.

But I have to confess, I haven’t yet artfully practiced the French leave. It’s the innate Miss Manners in me that still scolds me for even considering leaving a gathering without expressing my thanks and gratitude to the host. Having seen or rather learned about this method from other people, I secretly envy them. It shows a lot of confidence to execute. Actually, having said that emboldens me a bit. Don’t be surprised at the next party I go to and you wonder to where I suddenly disappeared, you’ll be in the know…

Laying Boundaries…again…and again

It was one of the most honest and difficult conversations I’ve ever had and it was with my mother.

I guess it shouldn’t be surprising. My closest relationship for years has been with my mom. It was also, however, my first codependent relationship in a line of codependent relationships. I’ve been such a relationship neophyte for so many years. The words codependence, narcissism are relatively new to me, but the dynamics of those concepts are as ingrained as brushing my teeth, or riding a bike.

In the not so distant past, the longer I stayed in my mom’s company, the more I used to dissociate myself from the circumstances.

Now while I’m acutely aware of my feelings, I struggle with what I want to do, to take care of her, do the things I do best for her with what I’m afraid to lose if I do, first and foremost my sense of self. For years, I I knew I needed to be away to live my own life so I created reasons to be away from my mother like my job and my husband but now things have shifted. My job is remote and I’m no longer married with the prospect of a relationship being unappealing currently. What ties do I have still have that draws me away from southern California? Mostly it’s emotional. The distance allows me to have more leisure time for myself to do the things I enjoy without having to rationalize where I’m going and why I’m going: to practice yoga, do recreational eating, hiking, spending time with friends. I always felt like I had to explain myself to my mom as though I had to argue why I deserved to go. Maybe she did question me when I was younger. I never thought I had a choice to just say I was going. Wow. That’s a revelation.

Anyway, my mom needs help and just as importantly, my siblings need help in helping our mom. Justin was with my mother for almost 6 weeks after being discharged from the acute rehabilitation center in late July. Because of miscommunication and lack of trust which led to hurt feelings, it created a feedback loop that would not end. It was Justin and our mom against the remaining siblings, all 8 of us and it was vicious. Threats of lawsuits, restraining orders, calls for eviction were common threads during those summer months which finally culminated in mom leaving or “escaping” (her words not mine) her home.

Being in such close proximity, in the confines of a studio hotel room with her in the last week has given me more insight into my mom’s present physical and emotional needs. I love my mom but there is only so much I can tolerate before I get cabin fever. I need to practice yoga. I need to go walking. I need to be active and move my body. Sometimes, I just need to be in another room to be able to collect my thoughts. I don’t know how my brother Justin was able to endure in the last two months on his own.

I initiated the difficult discussion with her about her desire to have me live with her in the house. It’s a familiar desire; after all, I’ve heard her repeat it enough times during the last two decades after I moved up to the bay area. I said no, in the most gentle and honest way I could. I told her that to live with her, my natural inclination would be to give everything to her and I would not be able to leave anything for myself. I needed to live freely and to fly. I couldn’t do that if I lived with her. I loved her very much and would come to visit but I could not live with her. I told her that I had deeply loved someone and had formed such a strong attachment to him and that I was still feeling the pain of it. I didn’t want to form such an attachment again; it was too painful. I believed that if I was to live with her, it would be unavoidable to build that kind of attachment again and it would not be healthy for either of us. I saw the pain in her eyes but I had to be honest. And I think she respected me for it. She said that she was asking me to give her love. I wasn’t able to give it to her so she couldn’t do anything else but just accept my decision.

Yet the longer I am here with her, the more it seems to make sense for me to consider what was once impossible – to move down to SoCal. The pros are many: I love the proximity to the beaches, the weather that allows me to wear short shorts to satisfy my vanity, and most importantly of all – my siblings. The cons are equal in number: the proximity would make it so much harder to say no to her and the hikes in nature will be limited due to suburbia, the potential constrictions on my independence, my freedom.

What I would love to do is to split my time between many residences: Oakland, my sister’s house a few miles away, and my mom’s house. The solution would give everyone space to appreciate one another when we’re together and sense of independence when we’re apart. It’s a solution that would also create detachment. Strong attachment to things, people, and places are what clouds my judgement and creates obstacles for me to move forward in my life. Strong attachments are the constant challenges that I seem to face. But currently, my apartment in Oakland is the main drain on my finances. How do I maintain it and should I? How do I achieve this nomadic life? A question to ponder…

My 50th Birthday Part 2

About a month or so ago, I happened to come upon a 50th birthday celebration on the lawns of the Huntington Beach Hyatt. I seemed like a fabulous and festive way to celebrate and it made me a little disappointed in myself that I had no plan for my own 50th. The last few months have been focused on mom and has been unceasingly turbulent. It seemed unseemly to want to celebrate anything. I had entertained a notion that I’d go to NYC and eat my way through it but that idea seemed so outdated and a little too indulgent that it never made it pass the conceptual phase.

To my surprise, TiTi offered to fly home to help me celebrate. The day started off favorably with a breakfast with my younger sisters. Aster was a mirror image of her mom in temperament and mien. It made me nostalgic just looking at her. It was also roasting hot with an unseasonable temperature and ended by breaking temperature records. But it was more than worth it to spend the morning with Darlene and Aster. That in itself was a wonderful gift. Afterwards, TiTi and I took a hike through Bolsa Chica state park, during which the whole time I felt melancholy. It was impossible to enjoy when I couldn’t stop worrying about mom.

To my delight and slight chagrin, on the way back to the car, I discovered that Darlene had generously gifted me money to be used for the Korean spa, Irvine spa. Delight because now I felt compelled to go despite my initial hesitation and chagrin, because I felt concern (as only an older sister would) that she should have saved the money for herself and her family. Brilliantly, she instinctively knew I had some hesitancy in treating myself, even if it was my birthday. My hesitancy may be another indication of how much I undervalue myself. I would not deny someone their need to take care and time to nurture themselves yet I can’t help but think that it’s indulgent for myself. If I’ve learned anything from the experience of my mother’s fall, it’s to remind myself that I should stop overthinking things and just live life with as much joy as I can muster and not postpone the joy for another day.

Seemingly on cue, just as TiTi and I were about to get dressed after our relaxing but short sojourn in the spa, we got a call to contact my older sisters urgently. Apparently, our mother had “escaped” from home and our brother, was en route to “rescue” her. In suspended disbelief, we gathered our belongings but with no particular urgency, made our way back home. My eldest sister seemed reluctant to go to dinner but somehow, the call to rush to our mom’s aid actually did the reverse for me. I suddenly felt liberated as though, I could finally enjoy my birthday. My mom would always somehow find a way to complicate her life, through her decisions she had made. But I realized now, that I also had a choice to whether be caught up in the tide of her drama or I could remain centered within myself and decide whether or not to react.

Unexpectedly, I had the loveliest dinner with TiTi and Chi Ha. The food was yummy, the atmosphere was festive, and the company was so pleasant. Even our server was a sweetheart, giving me a generous discount off our bill and comping us our drinks. Our table on the terrace of Rum Social was reminiscent of eating at the restaurant within the Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland, another place I considered spending my birthday. Having my birthday dinner at Rum Social was a fitting alternative. While my dinner(s) weren’t on the scale of a lavish birthday party with 50 of my friends, it was the best way I could spend it now, eating good food and being with the people I loved. And it certainly was memorable.

My 50th…

It’s taken me the last couple of years to come to terms with my 50th birthday milestone. With the help of my last love, who pushed me and sometimes aggravated me to accept my age, not to mention thinking about how soon I can retire, I’ve decided to accept my age openly and even enthusiastically. But like other age milestones, I’ve not felt like I’ve accomplished what a person should have achieved by then. I didn’t have a grading rubric or anything but come to think of it, I probably should have one moving forward. I should plan now for what I want to do for the 2nd 50. I’ve never had a real plan before so maybe that’s why I feel like there is a void (I didn’t want to say failure).

So what have I done?

I’ve married and have divorced (sigh),

I have run 2 marathons, and one half marathon,

I’ve travelled a bit – gone to Morocco, New Zealand, Portugal, France, Italy, Spain, England, Peru, Viet Nam, Thailand, Japan, China, Canada, South Korea, Ireland, Iceland,

Backpacked by bushwhacking through Denali National park,

Kayaked among otters in Alaska and in Milford Sound, New Zealand,

Meditated on the rocks in Laguna Beach with dolphins in the background,

Been pickpocketed in Barcelona,

Graduated college and obtained a masters degree,

Started a blog (that no one reads ;-), and

Fallen in love.

What do I want to do next?

Write a book,

Buy a house with a view of the beach, an apartment in NYC,

Meet and get (and stay) married to the love of my life,

Make a positive difference in the life of others,

Build a loving relationship with Justin,

Travel to Bhutan, Australia, Singapore, Shanghai, Croatia, Sardinia, Greece, Budapest,

Get a doctorate in psychology and help repair families and help individuals find fulfillment and their place in the world.

Bringing us all together

Proudly, my mom boasted to her nurse at Fountain valley Hospital that she had brought us together. It was true. All nine kids were called back, and all eventually even the estranged eldest daughter came to her bedside. But how long did that last? A short minute. The briefest moment in time.

Our mom fell down the stairs in her home on June 9. From that day forward, I’ve been spinning in place, and going nowhere. I haven’t moved forward in work and my romantic life is full of old ghosts.

Our mom is the strongest willed, most wily person I’ve known. All nine of us siblings have been trying to anticipate her next decision but to no avail. She’s so good at making up stories that have just enough of the hint of truth to make us believe. No one really knows for sure when she’s telling the truth. Being a child of two wars, she’s a survivor with an ironclad sense of self preservation. With our mom, it’s every man for himself and here I am, the easiest mark. It was only in the last few years of the pandemic, did I even consider setting boundaries with my mom. Boundaries was not even on my radar. In my distorted mind, it was what others did, others who played by the rules. I was unconventional, avant garde. I didn’t have rules.

How arrogant was I? I didn’t know I was arrogant, that’s how arrogant I was.

I think it started at the beginning of 2022 when I called for a family meeting among the siblings to address taking care of our mom. The financial and emotional burden of caring for her and the house was weighing on me and my older brother. Looking back on what I thought was a burden seems like a fond memory now. We talked to one another like we were strangers, navigating so many old conflicts, needing a moderator to corral us in case we were unruly. The first meeting never led to the series of meetings since I lost a bit of momentum as it came time to make decisions. But we reunited when our mom fell. Now, I don’t even know where to start. There are so many decisions to make but I can’t procrastinate like I’ve tended to do in the past. Too many people involved and the consequences are more dire.

I had always known our mom was a complicated human. I just didn’t know how complicated she could make everything around her. Now more than ever, I have to stay centered and not lose myself while taking care of her.

Standing firm …

8.1.2022. It takes a lot of mental endurance to persevere against constant abuse. I need emotional support to remind me that no, it’s not acceptable and yes, I do deserve better.

Most of us think feelings arise beyond our control. We believe that emotions can sometimes get the better of us and we are led by emotions. But we are in control. We attach feelings to our experiences. What most of us don’t realize is that we can even decide which feelings to attach.

Victor Frankl theorized that, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

A buddhist monk advised me that to bear the verbal abuse from my mother, I needed to remember that her words are like words from an insane person who know not what they speak. And perhaps one day, when my training is more advanced, I would hear her words but see the words for what they were, gossamer, without real substance. Until then, I would need to reframe the experience from being painful to simply being, neither good nor bad.

Today, though I couldn’t help myself. I was feeling quite sad. Earlier in the week, my mother had accused me of intentionally causing mischief and creating a climate at the rehab center in which the administration would want my mother to leave. It was quite the opposite of my intention. I have only wanted her to recover and to return to her fully mobile self. To hear her accusations to the contrary were extremely hurtful. I expected better more from my mother. I’m not sure more of what. Maybe more understanding and compassion that she willingly doles out to strangers and homeless people than to her own children.

I’ve tried to understand my mom’s motivations, why she behaves why does. But usually, I’m left frustrated and flummoxed and leave the rationalization behind. In the end, I’m left with seeing these experiences with my mother as a sort of trial like a wildfire rushing through the canyons. And just like during the summer season when the wildfires are relentlessly blowing cinders every which way, I’m going to stand my ground and watch the sparks fly by and live according to my highest ideals of integrity, honesty, patience, and Love. I’ll reframe the situation or I stay aware of my feelings while simultaneously detaching from them, thereby becoming intentional with everything that I do.

But given how things are going, I’m going to need some fireproof gear and get the h*ll out of dodge, before the fire comes down the hill. Better to avoid the problem than to think I can fight a firestorm like my mom with a fire extinguisher.

I give birth to myself

In the summer of 2020, I took a magic carpet flight. I was at one with the divine, felt the love that surrounds us all, and gave birth to myself all along singing in harmony with Spirit.

Well now it’s Summer of 2022, and I think I’m at the toddler stage. I’m wobbling on some unsteady legs, sometimes crashing to the ground, but I keep pushing myself up, take a couple steps forward, maybe a couple back, and then there I go again, crashing down on my bottom.

I’ve lived the first 49 years of my life constantly questioning whether whatever I was doing was in the direction of success. Most of the time was spent questioning, ruminating, and not doing, afraid of making mistakes. I don’t know what I’ve accomplished up to now. It all seems so trivial and insignificant. What really have I done? If I was to die tomorrow, for what would I be remembered?

Looking back, I realize my vision of success was constrained by a narrow perspective that had been honed through my mom’s expectations. Success to my mother could be distilled into distinct markers: becoming a doctor, owning a house near the beach, and owning a SUV preferably a Lexus or BMW. I didn’t have any of them. By my mom’s standards, I would have been labeled a failure. I was usually simultaneously amused and slightly annoyed whenever she seemed to console by reassuring me that a spiritually full life would be more rewarding than one with material riches. For a self proclaimed spiritual person, I always wondered why she seemed so contradictory in her perspectives. But like a good daughter, I was silent and agreeable whenever I disagreed with her views which my mom interpreted as being submissive and malleable.

The pandemic created the boundary that I never even knew I needed to have with my mother. It’s given me the mental and physical space to allow me to slowly mentally and emotionally untangle myself from her. At the age of 49, I’m finally learning about myself like I’ve been a stranger.

Who was I without my mother? Frankly, pretty lost in the beginning. I tried to channel her voice, and live by her wisdom but mostly I felt like I was wandering in the dark. But slowly, I am gaining some balance and trust by listening to myself, sometimes surprising myself with nuggets of wisdom gleaned from my own experience.

My mother always urged me that as a virtuous person, I needed to guide my siblings on the right path. And so I did, sometimes reluctantly and other times righteously, dispensing my “advice” with words like “should”, “need to” which implied that I knew what was the proper way to do things. I was a know it all and for my arrogance, I usually got rebuffed, especially when I applied this approach to my older siblings.

The longer I was separated from my mother, the more I realized that as much as I thought I knew about life, that there was infinitely more that I didn’t. I’m such a neophyte and so naive. Who was I to tell my siblings what to do? My mom barely could do that with her kids. I could only share my experience with others and let them decide for themselves if there was any wisdom that they could gain. Whether they chose the path I thought was best for them, was up to them.

I think most people mistaken listening intently as an admission of ignorance, that you’re acknowledging that you don’t know something that you’re expected to already know. The insecure person will insist indignantly that they already know (usually to hide the fact that they don’t). If you don’t know something and yet you’re given the knowledge, receive it gladly and give thanks. That knowledge can be a gift! Why are we so scared to show some vulnerability? It’s a sign of strength when you don’t feel the need to prove that you know everything, because you know intrinsicly that there is more to your character than what is lacking. it’s ok not to know everything, or even forget what you knew. Don’t let your ego get in the way of learning something new or of value. It takes humility to admit that you don’t know something. It’s only when we admit to ourselves that we need something or someone, are we then able to be open to receive what we lack.

Perhaps, you truly do already have the knowledge and yet it’s given to you as though you didn’t. Show your inner grace and simply smile and give thanks. You’ve been blessed to receive the gift again. The universe just sent you another reminder to be humble.

That summer day when I took my magic carpet flight was like the Big Bang. It was the impetus for my growth after being in a period of homeostasis. Just as our cells are constantly dying and renewing and being reborn, each day is new and full of unlimited potential to create something new. We may have a schedule planned but how the day will turn out is beyond our control. Leaving room for spontaneity gives us space to accept what the universe can give us. In that uncertainty, there is opportunity for spiritual growth if we allow ourselves to change and adapt to the circumstances. It’s up to us to decide how we view change. Do we see it as a disruption to our familiar and safe routine or do we see it as an opportunity for something better? Everything we do is a choice we make, if only we pay attention and remain aware. Nothing happens without our consent. When we act with intention and attention, we create what we desire and we can affect positive change in our lives. It is a power that we all have.

Exercise that power not just once but over and over. And you’ll soon see you are your own creator.

The Meaning of Life

My sister asked me today if I had ever thought about the meaning of life.

Ever, hardly. Always, definitely. Except I didn’t think about THE meaning of life. I don’t think there is any one particular or primary meaning that is the same in everyone’s life. I don’t even know if I believe that there is an intrinsic meaning in life. Life just is.

And for someone without faith in a higher power or belief in karma, I imagine they would think that the meaning of life to be pretty empty. Life would be very shallow, if we believed that nothing we do matters in the end. But still, I don’t think that’s a very good reason for people to behave badly. Even if we didn’t think there was more to the end of life, we still should behave ethically while we’re alive. Frankly, it just makes more sense to be kinder and more pleasant. Life feels so much better and easier when we get along with one another.

The more complicated question my sister could have asked is whether we have meaning in our lives.

And where do we get meaning in our lives? Simply by living with morality and virtue. On second thought, it is simple but not easily achievable. What we do, how we behave, and how we make an impact is where we gain meaning in our lives. This meaning may differ by individual. If we can make someone else’s life a little more pleasant, it also makes our own lives a little more pleasant. Conversely, could I have a lavish 5 course meal as I was sitting next to a homeless man? Not in good conscience. But put him around the corner and leave me in a decadent dining room and I could probably be able to forget about him for the next two hours. It’s so easy to placate ourselves by living in a fantasy where we believe that what we do does not bear any weight on another. We erect mental and emotional walls to create barriers so that we feel the distance, so that we feel separate from others. Perhaps we do this so we don’t have to feel responsible for our neighbors, our acquaintances, the strangers out in the world. We think we don’t have time for it, we’re just too busy with the mundane needs of our own life. Life seems challenging enough when we’re only focused on ourselves and on our immediate sphere of influence of friends and family. And so we find ways to ignore the suffering of others, of those we knew less well, of those we didn’t know at all.

So how can I indulge in a 5 course meal while the other man goes hungry? I could convince myself that I deserve to be a little indulgent because my past actions have lead me to where I am today. I could even convince myself that I “earned” and “deserved” that meal for the good I’ve done in my life (not that I’m keeping a ledger or anything). We’re living out the fruition of karma but who can guarantee if I would never be in his shoes some day? If not in this life but in the subsequent? It’s a rhetorical question unless we undoubtedly know our actions from past lives and we never make another misstep again.

When we become open to feeling other’s suffering, we realize how blessed we are with what we do have. It doesn’t matter how much we feel like we’re suffering, there’s always someone less fortunate than ourselves. Someone’s definition of wealthy could be another’s definition for middle class. Someone’s version of hell, could be someone else’s salvation. It’s all relative based on our point of reference. But by changing our frame of reference, we begin to see life a little differently and we start doing life differently. We can start by doing something small. We give a gift to everyone we meet. We surprise someone who looks grumpy with a smile. We’re genuine in whatever we say, in whatever we do. We say what we mean, courageously. We listen, deeply. These are simple acts but are not always easy to execute. In this way, we begin to see that each one of us can bring value to the world. We’re not all here to start a revolution, be a pioneer, start a trend, but what we can do, we should do well and with enthusiasm. Leave the world a better place or leave it at least having tried our best.