thoughtsinblue

[thoughtsinblue]

Candy and Fish Love.

A friend once asked me something like this:

"If you give me 10 pieces of candy, and I can only give back 3, I'm clearly not able to pay you back. That's not a fair exchange. So, wouldn't it be better for you to not give as much, or maybe just not give at all?"

At the time, I replied with something like this:

"That's okay. As long as you have the intention to give back, whatever it is that you can afford is just enough."

I don't think that was the correct response.

As unflattering and pessimistic as it sounds, most human relationships are, by design, transactional. That's not to say that unconditional relationships don't exist; it's just that they are very rare. It's like finding a mandarin in the orange pile at the supermarket. It's not the correct item, but it's sweet, so you can't really complain.

In a way, distinctly transactional relationships are the best. Take, for example, your Uber driver. He drives you home, and you pay him for it. You don't expect him to comfort you when you're crying or hold your hair up when you eventually throw up. Neither does he expect you to ask him to come up for "coffee." It's clear. There's no room for anything iffy. You get exactly what you signed up for.

But the line isn't always as clear when it comes to our other relationships, is it? Here's a very simple example. Consider someone from work that you get along with. If they met you outside of work, would you introduce them as a coworker? Would you stutter before calling them your friend, or would "acquaintance" be more appropriate? Would you actually call them that? Or would you rather just call them a friend to avoid hurting their feelings?

We hide behind our supposed "rules of civility" to avoid conflict, only to cry out when we realize that setting boundaries would've been much better. Laughing at unfunny jokes, picking up calls when you'd rather just text, pretending to listen to someone with the timely "Ah, yes," "Oh, really," and "Nooo, you're kidding!" All of this, for what?

Our lives are filled with people that we know we couldn't care less about. Oh, but what if we need them one day? Surely, being nice, wasting just a tiny bit of our energy keeping up, would pay out in the future, right? And yeah, it absolutely doesn't hurt to expend a little bit of our time and energy on a person who might come in handy one day. But then, haven't we reduced the other person to just a simple resource, an investment, an object—anything BUT human?

Rabbi Abraham Twerski calls it "Fish love." We say "Oh, I love fish!" not because we truly love it. No, if we truly loved it, we wouldn't put it on the grill; we'd just let it swim. We love the fish because it becomes a vehicle for our own gratification. In stark contrast to this, "true love" (and this doesn't even have to have a romantic connotation) stems not from a place of "what purpose does it serve me?" but rather "I give, without expecting anything in return, simply because I can give." At the very least, that's the conclusion I've come to. It also has the added benefit of setting an expectation from the outset that you aren't expecting anything in return. It's giving for the sake of giving, love for the sake of love.

And so, it brings me to my friend from the beginning of this piece:

"If you give me 10 pieces of candy, and I can only give back 3, I'm clearly not able to pay you back. That's not a fair exchange. So, wouldn't it be better for you to not give as much, or maybe just not give at all?"

If I could go back, I would say something like this:

"Your conscience raises a very noble question, love. But I do not expect anything in return. I give away 10 pieces of candy simply because I can. But if someday, you are able to give back, pass it along to someone in need without asking anything in return."

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I guess an emoji or two might make it a little less prosaic. But for now, it does the job, yeah?

[thoughtsinblue]

Orange Tango and Impermanence.

Back in my Johnny Bravo and Powerpuff Girl days, ice-cream was a rare occurrence, a treat, a once-in-a-while marvel of sugary satisfaction. But for most of my life, I've always correlated ice-cream with an acute sense of betrayal. For the longest time, I never experienced a sense of security in my choice of flavor, right until I adopted Mint and Chocolate-Chip as my go-to flavor at Baskin-Robbins. I remember my first betrayal. I used to get "Orange Tango" at B&R. That was my go-to flavor for years. One fine evening, as my parents and I exited from the theatre into the food court, we went to B&R, as was our ritual. My father knew me well. He didn't have to ask me what flavor I wanted. But, when my father placed our order, the employee replied with, "Oh, we don't have that flavor anymore." Turns out, I had Tango'd my last Orange. (It's not that bad of a joke, please.) I didn't have any ice-cream that day. I was devastated. I never got to have Orange Tango ever again.

When I think about it, maybe I just expected Orange Tango to always be there. It never occurred to me that I'd live to see a day when my favorite ice-cream flavor would just simply cease to exist. We take so many things for granted. We like to believe in the indefiniteness of things and ideas and people, only to realize that we've once again wrapped ourselves in a veil of delusions, just so we could maintain a semblance of control over our surroundings. Control, that we don't and won't ever possess. Things, ideas, and people are, by the very virtue of their existence, definite and limited. Yet we never seem to learn that lesson.

I truly envy those who can live in the moment. I remember this amazing snack back in the day called "Choco Bytes." It was sensational. Little pockets of wafer-like outer layer filled with chocolate. Not too sweet, just right. On my way back home from school, I'd buy a pack of those to have after lunch because I never liked vegetables, and I basically used Choco Bytes to Pavlov's-Dog myself into eating vegetables. I don't remember what they tasted like anymore, but I do remember looking forward to eating them. I remember being excited, until one day, just like Orange Tango, they too were discontinued. At first, I cursed my local shopkeeper for not keeping it. Then, I found out that it was discontinued altogether. First came Denial, then came Anger, followed by Bargaining, and after years of desperation, Acceptance.

Milan Kundera once wrote, "Einmal ist keinmal," - "What happens once might as well not have happened at all." I find this quote to be a critical insight into our lives. Here we are, completely lost to the value of once. We never seem to exist in the moment, never satisfied with once, chasing the dopamine rush like the addicts that we truly are. It doesn't help that we as a generation are absolutely addicted to social media. We try to live our life out as reel. In a twisted sense of instant gratification, we do things that we don't necessarily like but things that get attention. Even this supposed attention isn't exactly as straightforward as we think. It's rather an inquiry into how the other person could replicate that particular aesthetic.

It's ironic that I'd dish out poisonous opinions about social media, knowing full well that I'll share a link to this piece on my Instagram. But then again, nowhere is the truth any more illuminated than in one's own hypocrisy, no?

"Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on."

- Somewhere Only We Know, Keane

[thoughtsinblue]

Sunday Confessions.

I once had a friend who went to the church every Sunday, but she didn't go to church for the sermons or the community or because her mom forced her to, no. As far as I know, she was never religious either, God, she wasn't even Catholic. Every Sunday though, she went to church to confess. Just to confess, that's it.

You see, this was way back in high school. Back when I'd do all kinds of stupid shit like jumping off of the first floor to escape the security guard (don't ask), avoiding school like the plague, getting caught by my friends trying to meet my crush followed by binge-listening to Taylor Swift because "she knew how I felt," you know, typical high-school-aged antics. We've all been there (at least that's what I tell myself to make me feel better anyway.) When I first heard this rumor about my friend, I couldn't comprehend it. It didn't make any sense to me. I'll admit, I found the concept of going to church for the sole purpose of confession sounded pretty cool. But what was I supposed to confess to? Now, I wasn't the brightest. I wasn't an ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but that being said, I hadn't committed any horrific sins to confess to. And wasn't confessing to atrocities without being held accountable - the entire premise of confessions? (Again, I never said I was bright.) And so, I eventually dropped the idea and forgot about the entire thing. That is, until a few days ago.

You see, since then, I do feel like I've done confession-worthy things. A few sins here, a few atrocities there (in hindsight, my Taylor Swift inspired playlists now seem like crimes against humanity.) Needless to say, the well of sins is ever-giving. As the years passed, I've come to realize that we are desperate for, and in desperate need of absolution. Imagine all the times you wish you heard someone say, "It's okay, kid. It's alright. You're alright." Imagine the sigh, the relief, the exaltation you'd feel. I'm sure you're no stranger to that either, you've heard those words a few times. But I wonder if they'd have the same effect if they were as commonplace as "fuck me" and "fuck this."

 We deal with so much on a daily basis. So much uncertainty and guilt and (I absolutely hate this word) trauma, and most of the time, there's no one to help us out. Is it because we as an entire generation have decided to push away people who display even a semblance of care towards us? Or maybe everyone's too busy dealing with their own problems to help us with ours. Either way, what do we do when there's no one to tell us it's okay? Those of us lucky to be able to afford it, go to a therapist. But for the rest of us peasant folk, some days we find a coping mechanism, some days, we subject ourselves to some convoluted self-righteous penance, at times, we repress it for another date, or maybe, just maybe we go to church and confess.

For the record, I still think it's a little weird going to church just to confess, but I get it now. I wish I'd known this back then. Maybe I could've helped my friend better.

I'll leave you with a thought:

In our desperation for absolution, we've completely overlooked what we're really after - catharsis.

- Neelay

P.s. If you liked this piece, maybe you’ll like this playlist: Absolution and Catharsis.

[thoughtsinblue]

Walking Fast and Slow

I've always been one to walk fast. And, looking back at my life, it's rather easy for me to say that that's how it's always been. Maybe it's because I'd perpetually be late to school, or maybe it's because of another reason that I can't quite put my finger on. By all means, it wasn't even until a few hours ago that I consciously realized that that was the case.

It was 7 p.m., a fine Saturday evening. I'd just exited out of a café and although I'd just had a Kouign-Amann and some coffee, I still felt as if I had room for more. I usually have dinner around 7:30 p.m. and so, I decided to make my way towards a restaurant. I opened up Google Maps and selected a fine establishment. It was about 2 km away from where I was. Now, I was in no hurry as I had no one waiting for me at home, and so, as I had this seemingly infinite amount of time on my hands, I decided to walk all the way. (I also secretly hoped that it'd make me feel just a bit better about being such a glutton.)

I put on my earphones, selected a playlist and started walking. As I walked, thoughts started flooding my mind. Now, I have, for a long time, thought of walking as a tool to clear thoughts, but more often than not, this influx of thoughts becomes chaotic. The thoughts come and go, are overlapped, and sometimes they break off, and all of this happens at a rate that is too dizzying for me to keep up with. Most days, this ends with me being completely overwhelmed and exhausted. Today seemed just like one of those days. But then, out of nowhere, an inescapable thought struck me: "Why is it that I always find myself hurrying? Why can’t I just take in all that is around me? I would most definitely benefit from walking slowly.”

And so I did. Well, kind of. As I’ve said before, I've always walked fast, and now that I was trying to slow down, I couldn't. I'd take a few slow steps, but then find myself picking the pace up again. This happened for a while until I finally got the hang of it. I wasn't prepared for what came next. I was quite literally going against my own nature, and so it was rather difficult for me to slow down, but once I did do so, I realized that my thoughts had slowed down too. They weren't zooming past me at the speed of light, instead, they remained long enough for me to pay attention to them. And not only had the thoughts slowed down, but also, the surrounding lights seemed to get brighter. Suddenly, things around me were not a blur, every car that sped ahead on the street besides me had a distinct sound, I was taking in the faces of the strangers around me, most of them moved past me, however their perfumes lingered just a moment longer.

After dinner, I headed towards the sea. I sat down on top of the raised platform that hugs the coast. As I was beginning to put my earphones away, I was greeted by a stray cat. Although I didn't notice her at first, she introduced herself when she started playing with my messenger bag. Needless to say, the cat made her way to me as soon as I pulled the bag into my lap. After a short introduction, she sat down next to me. Her constant purr relaxed me even further to the point where I no longer had anything on my mind. The people around me faded into the background and then, it was just me, the cat and the sound of the waves. The salty breeze against my skin suddenly made me feel at home. I reflected on what I had learnt and now that I think of it, I might have thought a few things out loud as if the cat could understand me just fine.

I do not know how long I sat there listening to the sound of the waves, but when I finally decided to leave, I crossed the street and suddenly, I turned back to take a picture of the cat, but she had left too. I saw her walking, slowly, as if she were reminding me to do the same.

[thoughtsinblue]

Blues.

For the longest time, I’ve been obsessed with the color blue. 

The variety, the depth, the countless emotions it inspires, all of which, without ever being overwhelming.

A blue for the skies,

a blue for the seas,

a blue for the butterflies,

and a certain blue in the breeze.

There seems to be a blue for everything.

Here’s the blue I’m currently obsessed with: Almond Blossoms - Van Gogh

[thoughtsinblue]

Comfort and Adventure

Perhaps it’s precisely because I think of the world as a manifestation of a battle between order and chaos that I see glimpses of it everywhere. So far as I’m concerned, neither order nor chaos can manifest itself singularly without quite literally turning everything into hell itself. It’s the yin in the yang and the yang in the yin.

My ideas are far from original, and maybe I’m not the only one to have thought of this: we men and women have a natural tendency towards either order or chaos. Lean too much on one side without venturing out into the opposite side, and you’ll manifest the particular hell associated with that side. Too much order breeds tyranny; too much chaos, well, chaos. Take me, for example. I lean towards order and under certain circumstances I most definitely see glimpses of tyranny in me.

Needless to say, as is the nature of life itself, like most things, temperaments and the needs associated with those temperaments are impermanent. I also have reason to believe that our temperament oscillates between the spectrum. Which brings me to the heart of the matter. One can, as I do, crave comfort instead of adventure. But once I do achieve comfort, maybe I’ll venture out looking for adventure, knowing full well that if the experience of adventure were to fail on me, I could come back home to comfort. And that’s the crux of it. No matter how tempting the adventure might be, it won’t scratch the itch, but rather it’ll lead me ever further astray from my desire of the moment, that is, comfort.

Even the oscillation of one’s tendency from comfort to adventure is pretty predictable. Too much comfort turns into boredom, at which point you’ll want adventure, and when adventure overwhelms you, it’ll feel as if you’re headed straight for the ground without a parachute on your back, and its exactly in that moment that you'll crave comfort again.

The next possible question to ask yourself would be, how much, if at all, can we be influenced by others’ tendencies? I believe we can be influenced temporarily. Sometimes the call of adventure is too sweet to miss out on, and so one does commit to it. But I think we know in our subconscious that we’ve strayed a bit too far away from the direction we were supposed to be going in. We keep having these “something’s not quite right” thoughts. That’s when I believe we should start asking questions. No doubt, most of the time, there are two directions we can take (sometimes they might just align), the path we want to lead and the path we need to lead. And there’s no denying that if the paths don’t align, there’s a fair amount of pain and cruelty involved for us when we do finally realize what’s to be done, but that’s the price we pay, because there’s always a price to be paid.

-Blue