Tuesday, March 26, 2024

[Philosophical Ramblings] Victimhood and Why It Doesn't Suit Us

The most difficult thing to admit to one’s self is this: we, ourselves, are the ultimate cause of our own unhappiness. Once realized, a sense of profound enlightenment would wash over you and a lot of things can be viewed and handled by you in a different light. 

It’s never the people nor the situation around us. We might think that this is the case but it never truly is. Never was, never will be. Despite this, I agree that we are all victims. We are the victims of our own imaginations, aspirations, expectations, assumptions, (all the other -tions you can think of), guilt, doubts, and desires among other things. We put ourselves through different levels of exhaustive and mind-numbing states of fear, desperation and anxieties that stem from our perception of everything around us. We might argue that a lot of things outside of our immediate self can and may affect us but we seem to be forgetting that our consciousness is probably the quintessential example of a ‘closed system’. (Disclaimer: Less comparable to how it works in nature, more comparable to how it works in Chemistry and other sciences where transfer of energy is allowed. That kind of vibe.) Everything around us has been there since time immemorial so the only thing that we can control is how we deal with it and how we grow from it.

People often question reality because there’s some truth in that premise that we all perceive it differently. Reality is subjective and almost never objective. And when you actually think about it, we can even argue that concepts such as that of morality and values have varying connotations depending on who were asked and where they stem from. Hell, even sovereign laws and dogmas held for centuries are being challenged in the daily. Everything can be subjected to interpretations as most lawyers would inform us thusly. So with all these in mind, who are we to dismiss the fact that the power to make ourselves joyful and in full possession of our lives is truly within us? That, despite everything around us, despite what other people tell you, we are our own peace and quiet? It is quite empowering to know that no matter what happens, we are in control.

Of course, I never claim that this would be an easy feat. From time to time, I ‘backslide’ like how our Christian believers would say. Remnants of old and harmful habits rear their ugly heads and since we’re talking about habits, more often than not, these are heavily ingrained in our routines and decision-making. It will definitely take some time before it will truly dissipate. It will take some practice to always choose to be joyful and to wriggle off the victim mentality. We also need to consider that we are emotional beings that are often ruled by a palpably fickle heart. Just like the waves, we can be torrential, seemingly impulsive and catastrophic. Peace and calm are most definitely desired but somehow almost always never the choice. We are so used to the chaos within us that rewiring will take some guts, an intense self-control and a resilient will.

But we don’t have to worry about this. Again, we are in control. We have the power to choose and ACCEPT things as they are and move on from it. As long as we are breathing and living, we have the ability to practice and do some trial and error. ACCEPT mistakes, pains and suffering. ACCEPT that we are growing and blooming as we tread the path of life. We are capable beings with beautiful minds. We were never designed to be victims, rather we are fighters. I would like to relate the former to this quote from Camus’ Lyrical and Critical Essays, 1970, 

“Accepting the absurdity of everything around us is one step, a necessary experience: it should not become a dead end. It arouses a revolt that can become fruitful.” 

The ‘revolt’ to not being victims leads to joy and fulfillment and bettering ourselves.

So starting from now, if you haven’t been doing it yet, you should carry yourself with dignity and pride. Victimhood doesn’t suit you. How can a powerful being stoops down to that level and decides to be unhappy?




Friday, March 8, 2024

[Ramblings] It’s Been Awhile

Turmoil

There is this internal turmoil within me. I am trying so hard not to explode since a lot of emotions and thoughts have been going through my mind lately. A struggle between what I want and what I need ensued when I started to immerse myself in philosophy and I am trying to find the right balance between the two.

My logical mind is telling me to continue the course I am currently taking and stick to the adages I’ve learnt to treasure since first beholding them. It’s a path of less expectation, median yearnings and emotional obliviousness. Being able to take control of my emotions and to cerebrally assess situations make up an almost serene and peaceful life. I like it because it keeps me grounded. It makes me look at the world in a better light. This is my homeostasis.

On the other hand, my passionate self is being left in the corner. It’s like a child begging for attention–acting out. It continuously tags on my heart and although I feel love for it, hell, it probably holds a certain favor in me, I couldn’t seem to indulge it wholly in its capriciousness. It is so reckless, so wild and unkempt. It keeps on playing a mantra in my head that makes it dear to me but also makes me quite alarmed: “What is life without whimsy?”. And to whims it capitulates and accrued life. 

There is really nothing much to talk about the former but so much of the latter has been longing to be known. It’s been complaining how dour my current existence is. And although I am indeed doing a lot of exciting things, it feels like I am tamed. Domesticated and a bit boring. My passionate self is eternally thrill-seeking, bursting with enthusiasm and quite eager to love. It’s reckless and, quite annoyingly for me, so open about everything. I, honestly, don’t know what to do with it. I feel like I don’t have the energy to deal with it but I also feel like it’s quite a disservice to ignore its plight. It’s just goddamn scary and complicated to take care of this neglected fragment of myself. 

And to my all time favorite Romantic Writer, true that.


Call

When it comes to love, which I am also writing about a lot lately, I am utterly in a limbo. A stand-off is happening between my logical and passionate self. Everything seems to be at a standstill and my subtle self (the one who seems to be just passively watching and neutral, might even be the deciding self) just laughs in the corner. 

The logical fragment of myself keeps on reminding me that now is just now. Nothing is supposed to be serious, nothing is set in stone and that it’s okay to not figure everything out all at once. It has this ever calming and soothing hymn of patience, kindness and timidity that resolves me to take every moment and see it as it is. It allows me to focus on the good and disregard the emotional irrationals. The aim is to locate the constant maxims and discount the blinding ones. 

What I like about the former is its friendliness. It makes me like myself a bit more and it relaxes me since it comforts me with the fact that everything does get better. Seriously even using the second law of Thermodynamics to pacify my ever fearful heart. It also pushes me to do things despite anxiety with sound judgment that is supported with experience, known facts and weighed consequences. To it, love is just something that you do. It has no attachment, no inkling and definitely not an investment.

To my passionate self, I recognized a lot of concepts to be the same but the perceptions are perplexingly abhorrent. I couldn’t seem to describe it but it’s rather selfish and impulsive–almost like the Freudian “id”. I don’t know if I am being unfair to it but it’s just so base in nature. It’s immensely torrential, favors compulsions and treats almost everything personally. It’s a bit tiresome to handle its erraticness since it doesn’t want to hold on to reasons. It wants to have and to own but refuses to be mastered the same. It just wants to take and take and refuses to be denied.

“The Reluctant Bride,” by Auguste Toulmouche.
I need no context hahaha


Seething

In limbo, my subtle self holds its breath. I like to think it incensed but it is a rather unfeeling fragment of mine. So I guess the rest of me will do the seething and waiting, probably with gnashing teeth too. There seems to be no resolution in sight and all I can do now is sit and wait and decide once the opportunity presents itself.