In games, sometimes there’s a tipping-point in which you become the master. After struggling to get even a toe-hold, you get to a position where your dominance is inevitable. You don’t always want to reach that tipping-point though. If you’re not prepared to handle it, it will be very unfulfilling and you’ll be left with nothing but emptiness. Boredom will come — and from that, you can’t hide.
And it’s true — at one point, life presented me with a scenario I preferred, but I couldn’t handle it. Without a doubt, my negativity won. From there, I went into a multi-year exile. During those years, I trained — not my body as I had done in my youth, but my mind. I sat in isolation attempting to figure life out — trying to understand what I was doing wrong. The culmination of everything I gathered is within this blog.
In the upcoming year, I hope I’m ready to reach that tipping-point — to become a player that focuses on living-out his role the best he can. I hope that I’ve shed my negativity and developed an ability to appreciate the simple fear-free life. I’m done with using fear as a crutch to stave-off existential boredom. Anxiety, distress, worry, despair, anxiousness, hopelessness, frustration — these are words I knew well, but now wish to know only from a distance. I’m not afraid of them, I’m simply ready to mature beyond them.
I was meditating yesterday, methodically shutting down every thought that came into my mind — and a realization occurred: I shutdown this chatter in order to create an inlet for life to enter. These constant thoughts simply don’t allow life to happen, they choke it in every instance — like a loudmouth shouting over everyone else — or weeds preventing desirable crops from growing. So in this new year, I wish to listen — to allow life in.
When I was a little boy, a mother’s lap was the only car-seat a kid needed. Dictionaries were large books with finger tabs for quick access by letter. Encyclopedias were purchased at the supermarket, one book per week. We often browsed catalogs and filled-out order-forms that were mailed-in with personal checks — we received our packages at some indeterminate time in the future.
Fancy TVs had real wood cases surrounding the picture tube, they were thick and heavy. To change the channel we got up and turned a dial that clicked into place for each corresponding number, luckily there weren’t many channels to choose from. We watched TV shows at designated times. If we missed an episode we could catch it again in a rerun. With limited TVs, fighting or tantrums often controlled what was watched.
If we wanted to talk to a friend we called his house, asked his mom or dad if he was home, then talked until someone else needed the phone. A busy signal meant we kept calling over and over until whoever finally hung up. If events were cancelled, people would call around to let everyone know, some wouldn’t get the message and just show up, waiting for the party to begin.
If someone left the house, we typically wouldn’t hear from them until they got back home. Trends often traveled by cousins or clubs or camps. If we had questions about life we could ask a parent or sibling, our friends, or a teacher. If we needed a more extensive answer we could go to a library and browse through some books in the related category.
If we wanted to rant, we wrote cursive inside of notebooks that nobody read. If we were bored or lonely we had to make do. We had little to no contact with those outside of our immediate surroundings. Games typically required other participants. TV had limited programming and at times aired only reruns. Stores had limited hours and required transportation.
I appreciate the technological advances of today. When the Internet came into being it was like discovering a new world. Through the Internet I found companionship and purpose. I’ve spent about half my life within this virtual realm — exploring, observing, and interacting. It turns out that the next frontier wasn’t outer-space, but cyber-space — the world-wide interconnected consciousness of mankind. And through communication, we find unity. So it is with this thought that I welcome in the new year.
Am I perfect? Of course not, or else you wouldn’t smell so much.
Maintenance and repair are common concepts — but what should we maintain and what should we repair? Who knows. Who knows what consequences something will have on something else. Should I fix this particular thing? Maybe, if you’re inclined to do so. But if you’re not so inclined, then probably not.
You have to do something while you’re here, so sure, try and maintain or even change things. Just don’t take it too seriously. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, great. Don’t let life make you cry — or do — it’s up to you. Life is a clever story designed to make you feel — ride it out, or detach when it’s too intense.
Life’s ultimate purpose is already fulfilled by your presence. There’s nothing in particular to accomplish, no rush to complete an important task — just a narrative to observe.
Perhaps we should simply resolve to do more of what we’re best at.
And not best compared to others, just ourselves — we don’t even have to be particularly good at what we do, just better than the other things we do.