hopelesshappiness.com

I believe it can be consensus opinion that I am not in the future; and I am not in the past. I believe we can all agree that I cannot time travel. Yet my mind can dwell in the past; and my mind can nest in the future; though I remain in the moment. But if I am my mind---if my mind cannot "be" apart from me---then is my mind a delusion only when it resides in the past or future? Or is the entire concept of "mind" a delusion? Or am I indeed spanning temporal reality? I believe that my mind, when I perceive it to be in the past or in the future, is a projection of momentary anxieties---anxieties working to create an illusion of control. This is why, if through focused effort, I am able to anchor my mind, to me, here, within this moment, I am able to glimpse a moment of peace.

And in the next moment? My mind wants to wander; backwards; and forwards. I must work---my mind must work---in every moment, to stay tethered to that moment. When my mind drifts, I, of course, have no choice but to follow.

And when we stray---when I stray, from the moment---I am unable to recognize the futility of control; I have lost all possibility for momentary peace; and I often find anger; or disgust; or fear; and I sometimes find sadness. This is the path to negativity.

And when we stay---when I stay, within the moment---I am unconcerned with control; I glimpse momentary peace; and I often find joy; or trust; or surprise; and I sometimes find sadness. This is the path to positive creativity.

Now that I understand, for the moment, the inseparability of myself and my mind, is it such a large leap to grasp the oneness of all sentient beings. And from there, is it a much larger leap to know the interdependence of all living things. For some, these are contentious topics; I believe this is so because some are unable to incorporate into their thoughts and plans the reality that when one faction, or when one individual, or when one sentient being, or even when one living thing drifts, we all must, (to varying extents), follow.

And when we stray, we are unable to recognize the futility of control; we have lost all possibility for momentary peace; and we often find anger; or disgust; or fear; and we sometimes find sadness. This is the path to negativity. This is the path we are on.

If we were to stay, within the universality of the moment, we would be unconcerned with control; we could glimpse momentary peace; and we could more often find universal joy; or trust; or surprise; and we would (and should) sometimes find universal sadness. This is the path to positive creativity.

Having learned from the past, we should live in the moment, for the future.

This is not a Philosophy. To work on a philosophy for daily living, would necessarily require me to influence others. To work to influence and convince others to follow a path to positive creativity---the staggering enormity of this endeavor---would, (if not necessarily), quite likely require me to remove myself from the moment.

This is a Spirituality. To work on a spirituality to incorporate into my daily living, would necessarily require me to influence from within. To work from within to follow an individual path to positive creativity, I believe, has the potential to help other individuals return to the moment by being there with them, and, as necessary, in their service. Occupying this moment together allows for the possibility of a shared glimpse of peace.

This is not a Philosophy. This is a Spirituality.

This is an individual Spirituality.

This is an imperfect, individual spirituality in search of Perfection.

I am forever working.

I am forever straying.

I am forever learning.

I am a barbarian. Or, if you prefer, a troglodyte; a philistine. I am here to confess. I am a bad man. I am a degenerate; that is, "a person who reverts to an earlier stage of evolution." I had evolved. I had become more refined; more cultured. This week I took a step backwards. This week I found myself feeding at the trough. After more than 2,438 days I consumed Fried Fast Food. Yes! I had 2 Buffalo Chicken Strips and a Small Order of French Fries. I am embarrassed and ashamed. I am glad no one I knew, saw me. Regardless, I am guilty.

Granted, I did my research first. I found a $5 snack pack with only 470 calories, 20g of fat, 2.5g of saturated fat, and 0g of trans fat. That's Total! For both chicken and fries! That's less, in all categories, than the lower fat Kettle Chips I (more and more frequently) allow myself to consume in one sitting. So why do I feel the need to confess. Why do I feel criminal? And remorseful? And wicked? And wrong?

Perhaps it is because I feel like it is "another" step backwards. A few months ago, I allowed myself baked oven fries. About a year before that I allowed myself the aforementioned (pernicious) lower fat kettle chips. A few months earlier still I gave in to the siren song of baked potato chips. And before that? Yep; it was mashed potatoes. And earlier still? It was a plain baked potato. And the Chicken? I can trace that back to my sister-in-law's most delicious fried chicken 4 years ago on my birthday. There have been other lapses. I have even advanced from going five years with no salad dressing to now taking regular advantage of Raspberry Vinaigrette.

Where will it stop?

At this rate, one day when I'm 75, I may find myself before a heaping half-empty plate of chili-cheese fries, not knowing how I (or they) got there.

And think about it. The fact that I did the research proves beyond any reasonable doubt that it was not simply a moment of weakness. Nor did I get caught up in the heat of the moment. There was no frenzy of fast food fanatics forcing me to go along with the crowd. Nor did I do it out of anger or any other negative emotion. This was planned! Premeditated! A clear-crinkle-cut case of first degree felonious assault on an unsuspecting bag of fries and two defenseless chicken strips. I am a miscreant.

I have been worried for years that each concession to the seductive enticement of progressively prepared potatoes would lead me down this road to fried perdition and right back to the fast food fold I am so fond of. And there I was; mid-afternoon Wednesday; furtively watching the door hoping not to see familiar faces while savoring the salty crispy goodness of french fries and fried chicken strips. I am weak.

Despite the tongue-in-cheek tone, I do feel guilty and I am uncertain how to proceed. Some would say, (and some have said), that, in moderation, the occasional relapse is not a worry; especially since the nutritional content is actually an improvement. I might argue that it is not the incident, but the ever-broadening continuation that is concerning; and less fat now is not less fat down the road if it leads to more fat. Duh! Some might say I should deny myself fast food friedom and return to the kettle chips; but I might argue that this regression has made me aware of multiple regressions stretching back to the beginning, and perhaps that is suggesting that I begin again, allowing myself a daily snack of only 29 reduced fat, (small) baked cheese crackers. I went cold turkey (literally and figuratively) once; I can do it again.

But then the bad man inside my head reminds me that undeterred by the healthy habits and the dramatic turnaround in blood profiles, my arteries still desired the company of three additional stents just a year ago. So, (as the bad man's logic goes), why not enjoy a few flavorful, fried delectables along the way.

Some would say, the bad man makes sense. And some of them would argue that he is not a bad man; merely reasonable. I might argue that if you have one rope with two knots and another rope with two knots and you tie them together then it is reasonable to surmise that 2 + 2 = 5. And in the case of my stents, (since one is inside another), it is reasonable to infer that 7 = 6.

So...

1. I can continue eating french fries, leading to who knows what.
2. I can return to oven baked fries and/or kettle cooked chips and risk further relapse.
3. I can go all the way back to 29 tiny cheese crackers per day, accompanied by cold turkey for lunch and dinner.
4. I can listen to the bad man and believe that no matter the effort made, soon 7 will equal 9; or 10; or infinity.

I don't like the bad man.

But I most certainly liked those French Fries.

I don't want to listen to the bad man.

But I do hear the call of more French Fries.

I am the bad man.

And I know my way around a guileless bag of French Fries.

Perhaps though, if I stop, I will keep infinity at arms length.

Or perhaps not.

Either way, my mouth will still water each time I remember those French Fries; this past Wednesday; November 2nd, 2016; from 2:32pm until 2:49pm. They were tasty...

Each of the following questions imply the inverse of itself, and where applicable, descriptors are interchangeable and/or different ones can be added. (In this context, we will partially define "admirable Life" as making contributions that have value beyond one's descriptive label; even when those contributions are a result of conscious efforts made as a representative member of that group.)

If you are a Conservative, do you believe it possible for a Liberal to live an admirable Life?

If you are a Believer, do you believe it possible for an Atheist to live an admirable Life?

If you are a Bureaucrat, do you believe it possible for a Seditionist to live an admirable Life?

If you consider yourself to be a Financially Independent Person, do you believe it possible for a Person on Welfare to live an admirable Life?

If you are an American, do you believe it possible for an Italian to live an admirable Life?

If you are a Laborer, do you believe it possible for a member of Management to live an admirable Life?

If you are a Christian, do you believe it possible for a Buddhist to live an admirable Life?

If you are a relatively Healthy Person, do you believe it possible for a Disabled Person to live an admirable Life?

If you are a Liberated Consumer, do you believe it possible for an Environmentalist to live an admirable Life?

If you are over the age of 50, do you believe it possible that a young person under the age of 30 is living an admirable Life?

If you are a Skeptic, do you believe it possible for a Conformist to live an admirable Life?

If you are Heterosexual, do you believe it possible for a Person with an Alternative Preference to live an admirable Life?

If you are a White Person, do you believe it possible for a Black Person to live an admirable Life?

If you are a Man, do you believe it possible for a Woman to live an admirable Life?

If you are a Nationalist, do you believe it possible for a Citizen of the World to live an admirable Life?

Many individuals don't think twice, believing that varying beliefs and lifestyles add to universal potential and do not detract from individual value. And many of these individuals are changed by this, becoming more tolerant and empathic by listening to, and making an effort to understand, diverse opinions.

Yet some individuals are so strongly entrenched in their beliefs that any difference of opinion does lessen the perceived value and potential of another equally necessary individual. And some of these individuals have difficulty processing the concept of a universal potential.

I would like to travel back in 50 year increments, for at least 3,000 years, to ask the questions above and to track how we have changed.

I would like to travel forward in 50 year increments, for as long as there remains a species of humanity, to ask the questions above and see where we are going.

Or to find out where we are not going; and when.

I believe that focus on the individual discredits a universal outlook.

I believe that individual identity is (to varying degrees) molded by group association.

I believe that group formation---and as a result, group divisiveness---is dependent upon a focus on the individual and their perceived identity.

I believe that group divisiveness will, (seemingly unhurriedly, but nonetheless ultimately), lead to drastic and dire circumstance.

I believe that an increasingly substantial universal outlook may mitigate circumstance.

I believe, (with a very high degree of certainty), that the individual will not survive an extinction of the species.

Here upon a noonday dreary
As I ponder weak and weary
Asking of this Life... Whatever for?

It seems so cold, obscure, and gray
A welcome darkness lights my way
I hear them laugh as if to say
You should be asking Life for nothing more

...Only this and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I remember
Each and every ghostly ember
As I passed my unforgotten lore

A shadow that I left behind
A spell once cast, would not unbind
A haunting o'er both soul and mind
To this shroud of gloom I thus implore

...Only this and nothing more

But no! My peace is not to be
A tap-tap-tapping comes to me
A tap-tap-tapping there upon my door

Please go your way I think aloud
Your tap-tap-tapping leaves me cowed
I much prefer my silent shroud
It is the light of day that I abhor

...Only this and nothing more

Presently my will grows stronger
Though the tapping taps no longer
Still I rise and walk across the floor

I walk across that vast expanse
As if there ever was a chance
To circumvent my circumstance
Knowing sorrow waits beyond that door

...Only this and nothing more

Listening but still not hearing
Long I stand here wond'ring, fearing
Waiting for that tapping at my door

But no, no tapping comes my way
Yet I can feel the light of day
And I can hear from faraway
A whisper from the depths ...Whatever for?

...Only this and nothing more

Back into the chamber turning
Every fiber stretched and yearning
Working to sweat grief from every pore

This grief though turns again to fear
When at my window I can hear
A tap-tap-tapping more severe
Across another vast expanse of floor

...Only this and nothing more

As I stumble filled with dread
Halfway there I turn my head
Surprised to hear a tapping at my door

Now I stand betwixt, between
How dare this tapping contravene
Its tendrils slither most obscene
This tap-tap-tapping creeping 'cross the floor

...Only this and nothing more

I cry aloud, "Please enter here!"
I cry aloud, "Come calm my fear."
And thus they come through window and through door

Alas, my fear grows strong and true
To see this currish, abject crew
To be this poltroon rendezvous
This Craven chorus breathes...Whatever for?

...Only this and nothing more

And though I fear I also marvel
To see this lot thus masked and larval
Scattered here about my chamber floor

Malicious grins, with lips bruised black
I dare not think to turn my back
My vigilance fends off attack
Must I now stand guard hence forevermore?

...Only this and nothing more

Though the Craven sit here waiting
I am soothed by contemplating
Their overpowering voiceless stoic roar

Yet through malevolence unspoken
Afraid and spent and nearly broken
Their valued nature a foretoken
That once again I'll be as once before

...Only this and nothing more

From whence they came I want to know
So if allowed with them I'll go
Upon their exit through my chamber door

What am I thinking? Look at them
This fancy taken, just a whim
I must remain steadfast and grim
To spurn pusillanimous amour

...Only this and nothing more

As the day grows long and weary
Watchfulness comes somewhat bleary
And so I shrink to cushions on the floor

Soon my mind begins to wander
Opportunities to ponder
Will I choose to use or squander
This Craven nature never used before

...Only this and nothing more

Here I sit engaged in guessing
Is this a curse? Or a blessing?
Do I stand strong?  Or do I wash ashore?

This sorry group of shabby men
Have given up; have given in
Each hateful look, each blackened grin
A weak-willed life; a simple-minded spore

...Only this and nothing more

Then, me thinks, the air grows colder
Baring loathing's lambent smolder
Surrounded by despair that I deplore

I cry aloud, "Be gone with you!"
"You wretched clump of residue!"
"I want to find my way anew!"
"Your sad, quiescent rage I will ignore."

...Only this and nothing more

They do not move, they do not budge
They look at me as if to judge
Am I worth the effort of their chore

With quiet tears I ask of them
Are we to live so smugly dim
Can I live purpose past a whim
This Craven chorus breathes ...Whatever For?

...Only this and nothing more

So we sit; an uneasy truce
Although they still work to induce
Companionship to last forevermore

I look into their cold dead eyes
I want to take them by surprise
I cry aloud, "Be Gone! Abscise!"
They sit as if they'll sit forevermore

...Only this and nothing more

Here I sit on cushions napping
When I hear a tap-tap-tapping
The Craven tap-tap-tapping on my floor

I jerk awake as they advance
Crawling across that vast expanse
My watchfulness knocks them askance
Yet still I'm less than what I was before

...Only this and nothing more

Here I sit on cushions napping
When I hear a tap-tap-tapping
The Craven tap-tap-tapping on my floor

I jerk awake as they advance
Creeping across that vast expanse
My watchfulness knocks them askance
Now once again I am as once before

...Only this and nothing more

...Only this and nothing more

Some days I am anxiously restless.

Some days I am simply restless.

Some days I am satisfyingly restless.

And some days I am restlessly satisfied.

By choice, I do not consciously experience complete satisfaction.

At first glance this appears to be a progression from more discomfort to less discomfort. But for me, this is not a progression because it is not successive; it does not advance in a particular order. The daily, (and on occasion, the momentary), proportions (of restlessness and satisfaction) feel random, but never purposeless. I believe complete satisfaction would feel purposeless.

This week I have been at the "less discomfort" end of the spectrum, and I believe it is this circumstance that has pushed me to consider "random" and ask the following questions:

1. In this context, how is "random" defined?
2. Based on the definition, are the proportions (of restlessness and satisfaction) actually random? Or have I made previous choices that have lessened this week's discomfort?
3. And if I am able, in which direction do I choose to impact my discomfort?
4. And why does less discomfort prompt me to consider the haphazard nature of my daily and momentary movement toward a future?

I am tempted to answer the last question first, but by doing so I do not want to mold and direct my answers (to the other questions) in a way that will support and justify this last answer. But through a more objective consideration attained from this current flow of written thought, I believe I can mitigate any bias and avoid a predetermined outcome. Or, perhaps not. Regardless, I cannot rid my mind of this thought:

In this moment I believe that the greater the discomfort, the greater the effort to move toward less discomfort, hence greater purpose and fewer off-topic thoughts. Conversely, the less discomfort (perceived or actual), the less effort necessary, resulting in less resolute direction and more (less-focused) tangents.

After elucidating this flow of thought in the two sentences above, I see that I have oversimplified. Though the basic structure remains, there is a complexity of layers beginning with discomfort vs. busyness. I could replace the word "discomfort" with the word "busyness" throughout this thought, and it would be as logical. The difference might be that discomfort is self-imposed whereas busyness is more commonly influenced by outside agents. Or, depending on the individual, there might be no difference. An argument could be made that the terms, (discomfort and busyness), are interchangeable; regardless of the impetus. Which raises the question, is busyness less productive than discomfort? And from productivity I could circle back to purpose, or I could detour into one of many side-roads in an effort to better understand the busyness of urgent vs. the discomfort of important. But having already driven down from restlessness and satisfaction to discomfort to busyness to productivity, all by way of purpose and effort and distraction, perhaps now I should work back to a more thorough examination of randomness and its impact on forward movement.

"Random: proceeding, made or occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern." This is a dictionary definition. For this week's context I would include "beyond individual control" within this definition, (which I believe is implied). So to answer question #2 above, I will look at this concept of control.

It is interesting to note that when I feel more in control, I become more aware of my lack of control and conversely when Life is most chaotic my greater (perceived) purpose leads me to believe I am capable of regaining control. I also realize that in some (and perhaps a majority of) circumstance, these proportional differences between restlessness and satisfaction are (to an extent) delusional in that I am simply making adjustments so I am able to continue moving forward. The actuality is most likely that randomness impacts every choice before, during, and after, and therefore degrees of discomfort (or busyness) are (at least to an extent) accidental. If I have made previous choices that have influenced levels of discomfort, I believe the same choices in another week would not produce the same results. This being said, I also believe personal choice is important as a reflection of character.

So... even though I cannot control results through personal choice, I believe I can recognize my relative level of discomfort, and through consistent personal choice, I can work to increase it or decrease it according to perceived need; (perceived need for me is less discomfort when I feel more discomfort and more discomfort when I feel less discomfort). I also believe I can lessen the potential for delusional perception by strengthening my understanding of the inevitable randomness inherent in each moment. But, (assuming these thoughts are not delusional), is there an appropriate level of discomfort (or busyness) or am I doomed to forever seek, and never find, balance? And if, (as I believe), authentic (non-delusional) balance is unattainable, is it better to create more discomfort (or busyness) resulting in (perceived) purpose and/or direction, or is it better to work toward less discomfort (or busyness) potentially resulting in less (perceived) purpose and/or direction? It feels that I have consistently chosen greater discomfort (or busyness), but this examination has forced me to face a difficult question; a question that I believe is the culmination of this week's thought:

Is purpose delusional?

If purpose is "the reason for which something exists," and if I can't know my purpose with certainty, (which I feel, in this moment, I cannot know), then any purpose claimed, with certainty, is delusional. There are many individuals who would disagree.

At the beginning of this written thought I said that my personal proportions of restlessness and satisfaction never feel purposeless; (implying there must always be some restlessness that contributes to and validates purpose). Now I am asking, is this feeling delusional? Or am I simply confusing purpose with direction?

As I rethink this, I believe that if I have direction I can be consequential and significant, and if I wander aimlessly I am more likely to be inconsequential and insignificant, but I cannot be certain that consequential, significant direction is the same as my purpose. I look around and see many sentient beings interpreting the consequence and significance of their direction (as determined by personal choice), as their inimitable purpose of paramount importance; and I look around and see many other individuals who disagree by choosing their own personal direction. So if we cannot agree, and if we do indeed equate personal direction with purpose, then perhaps purpose is delusional, (or at the very least, misleading), because, (based on such widely-differing individual directions), it over-inflates one's sense of being, it makes one oblivious to the randomness in every moment of every day, and hence, it has the potential to create an illusion of control.

I believe a constant awareness of the inevitability of randomness is critical to productive forward movement. By deflating individual ego and by exposing the fraudulent nature of individual control, I believe I will maintain a restlessness that will encourage discomfort that will in turn guide me in a consequential, significant direction.