An Us, Them & (Mainly) I Conundrum

At around 16:10 I had a sudden urge to cry. I chose not to. I’m not sure if this is a gift or an ailment, but I didn’t want two bike accidents in as many weeks. It made sense not to cry. I feel that sometimes the sensation is brought upon by a series of experiences, and at other times the sensation finally decodes what was behind the experience. I suppose they are both similar and often concomitant. 

One of my frequently asked questions is ‘is there a physiological difference between acknowledging that one feels like crying and the act of crying itself?’ Another question is ‘what of all this conflict?’ 

I fear that I might sometimes take too much of an aggressive stance in retaliation to existence. It is my defence to sharing time and space with the possibilities of being threatened, harmed, feeling inadequate and failing. I live alongside the strong chance that I will not reach the destination I had in mind, and that life might not necessarily treat us kindly as we fail to accomplish our dreams. There is nothing owed and every opportunity for everything to be taken away. We are open to loss, violation and illness. Our wellbeing is fragile, and our physical frames are easily shattered. 

It is these facts of existence that have pushed me towards a certain hardness. A list of events, that there is no need to divulge, have opened my eyes to the fact that softness will not work for me. Not on its own. Something has to come before softness. So then, what of everyone else?

I think there is an important distinction to be made between a world that has the potential to harm and a world that is unjust. One is to be taken as a fact and the latter is entirely subjective. 

I felt like crying today because on the one hand I am reminded of how life can sneak up on inherently good people and deal them indescribable pain. Pain that they could not have prepared for. A jolt to their entire existence that can forever shift how they look out at the world. I felt like crying today because, on the other hand, I feel like it is only when these experiences are realised that we can truly begin to understand what being alive really is. I am in conflict.

The very nature of us includes all of these terrible things. It will never disappear. Movements can try all they want to rid the world of the many evils, but it is not possible, because we are made of equal parts good and bad. If we try and exist in one half alone then we will eventually be destroyed by the other. The only real survivors will be those who embrace a whole. Anyone else who makes it out alive will be nothing more -or less- than lucky. 

…

I expect that there is a danger to asking the world to bend to your will, even if it comes from a passive stance (of having felt like one has already taken too much damage). I worry that there is the potential for much greater harm when you try and make evil disappear. While I both sympathise and empathise with the pain of individuals, no matter how great it might be… How destructive… How unfair it might seem… I succumb to the idea that it is an essential part. It is not a part that is to be loved or applauded, but it is essential nevertheless.

No matter how much life might back us into a corner, and leave us shaking. We have no authority to ask it to stop. There is nothing we can do to guarantee our pardon from pain, no matter how unfair it might seem. There is no fair or unfair. There is no promise that our pleads and screams will be answered favourably. Please believe me that I mean no harm when I say ‘there is no end to suffering.’ 

I almost cried because sometimes it feels to me like these acts are somewhat of a selection tool. I almost cried because very few of us are ready for them. Even when we think we are there could always be something bigger. Something impossible. I almost cried because it is painful to exist in a world where individuals are tested and put through unmeasurable amounts of unjust pain. I almost cried because I can’t take it away from them. I almost cried because at the same time I think it is necessary. That there is no special treatment to be afforded to anyone when it comes to existence. I almost cried because this makes me feel callous… Because people have labels for thinking like this, and I wonder if I am perhaps those things.   

…

Sometimes I find myself taking what can feel like far too much of an aggressive stance. Sometimes I feel entirely comfortable with it. I am suspicious of comfort because I feel it is the opposite of being prepared. I have a younger relative who has been afforded comfort, and now, as they step into a much wider world, they realise that they aren’t ready, and they are surrounded by pain. And this is painful for me too. It is painful because the only things that could have been done were not done, and now pain is an essential part of their process. In receiving comfort they have not only been ill-prepared for pain, but they have become a target for it. Comfort does not make demons go away. It makes your world smaller. More limited… Until, eventually, you can’t step outside.

I felt like crying because I realised the necessity of the same pain that I wished people didn’t have to experience. I feel like I have failed to some degree. Not because it was ever my purpose, but because there is no level of protection I can provide. Not without causing more harm. I am in conflict. Conflict because I feel like I have to leave the evil alone and respect it. I have to let it do what it does. Conflict, because I feel like all those who push against it, are wasting their time and setting themselves up for much greater falls. I feel like there is no blame to be placed upon anything other than our walking of this earth. This is probably no concern of mine, but today it is concerning.