Living Under the Influence.

I always thought it was bizarre that if someone were to accidentally kill or injure another human being while driving under the influence, their penalty, in many cases, would be less severe compared to if the driver were sober. It always struck me as pretty disturbing that simply because the driver's faculties weren't completely present, he's not as completely at fault. While I still find this odd, I now understand the logic. Perhaps this line of thinking should apply to people who claim to be in love.

Love can be an addiction just as potent as those registered under DEA Schedule I - often, more so. The high can be just as euphoric, and the consequences, just as damaging.

We often hear people advising, "never trust an addict," and yet the people closest to us who are addicted to love are the people we trust with absolutely everything. We let them into our space, physical and emotional, and we give them permission to stay, permission to take what they want - from our refrigerated items to our most personal secrets. Yet, we insist on feeling betrayed when things do not go as planned and our partner falters in some aspect. Why the sense of betrayal?

"I want this to last forever."

"I want to be in your life always."

"I would do absolutely anything for you."

How seriously should the above statements be taken when the producer of these words has an abnormal spike of oxytocin in their brain - or an excess of seratonin?

It's a difficult question to answer. No one wants to go through a relationship with a cynical attitude, and no one really wants to be overly cautious so as to not run the risk of having inadvertently lied, at some point. We all want to be sincere. Time (compounded with reflection), of course, is the only entity which can provide true clarity, but, by then you would have already invested yourself so fully, so completely into the relationship at hand - all your emotions, all your dreams, your saltshakers and coffeepots, your love and unintentional lies.

Such is the paradox of love.

"Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Life and Love

I believe every child at some point in their life has proclaimed to their parent some version or another of: "You don't understand." However, not every child is so lucky as to truly believe their parent when they respond, smiling, "Of course, I do." 

Last night my parents and I were watching one of my favorite movies, (500) Days of Summer. It was one of the seldom nights where my dad came home from work not utterly exhausted, so I seized the opportunity to show him one movie I know and love that consistently culminates in debate and analysis after viewing. I love everything about that movie, which isn't to say, though, that it doesn't distress me every time I watch it. During the part where Summer visits Tom's apartment, late at night, after they fought about the "scene" he made at the bar, Summer says to Tom:

"I shouldn't have done that - gotten mad at you."

Tom replies,

"Look, I know we don't have to put labels on it, I get that, but I need some consistency... I need to know that you're not going to wake up in the morning and feel differently."

Heartbreakingly, frustratingly, and any other adverb imaginable that can convey a mix of melancholy and puzzlement, Summer remarks, "I can't give that to you, no one can."

I turned to my dad and asked him, "Is that true? Can no one really provide that?" He smiled and told me to ask him again after the movie. 

Once the film finished, he sat up and got into discussion mode. He said, "Gunita, trust is the outcome of a relationship - not the precondition." He went on to explain that if the relationship at hand matures enough over time, Tom's expectation is a perfectly reasonable one to have. In a beautiful elaboration, he quoted M. Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Traveled. Peck says that "falling in love" is when two people pair up, and their individual "ego boundaries" dissolve. "One by one, gradually or suddenly, the ego boundaries snap back into place; gradually or suddenly, they fall out of love. Once again they are two separate individuals. At this point they begin either to dissolve the ties of their relationship or to initiate the work of real loving."

When Peck talks about "ego boundaries," he doesn't mean the ego which connotes arrogance or pretense; he means the mechanism in our mind which gives us our own identity, separate from the relationship of which we are a part. 

I've maintained for a long time now that love is not so much an emotion as it is a conscious, willfull decision we make. So, I resonate very much with the notion Peck describes - initiating the work of real loving - as it involves the reconciliation of your personal identity, goals, values, etc, with the goals and nature of the relationship. However, I explained to my dad that I feel as if the only way to ensure that you don't enter a relationship which ends up being predicated on falsities is to make sure you feel as if you're a complete, whole person who doesn't need external validation all before you commit to another human being. My parents, simultaneously and resoundingly exclaimed that this is a difficult prospect. It was at this point that I delivered my "You don't understand," and my dad lovingly followed with an "Of course, I do."

I vacillate between being certain and uncertain that I can achieve that ideal state of self-sufficiency before entering whatever relationship the Universe has in store for me. Perhaps, though, real love is when you feel completely at peace with some degree of dependency, and one becomes ripe for love once they realize the difference between dependency which is healthy and that which is not.

Focus: Dad

Going to India is always a thrill for me. When I was younger, the joy probably sprouted mostly from sightseeing and getting exotic trinkets here and there. As I got older, the value began to principally spring from getting to know the family better, as most all of my dad's family lives there. Now, I'd say, the best parts of coming to India are a combination of family time as well as gaining more knowledge about my roots.

This time around, one of the most memorable parts of the trip was actually the five hour car ride from Delhi to Punjab. We left at four in the morning and I slept most of the way there. My dad went so far as to ask our hotel if we could borrow a pillow and blanket so I would be as comfortable as possible during what has, historically, always been the most dreaded car ride of the India trip. Needless to say, I was quite comfortable. As the sun started to rise, my eyes fluttered open every now and again; my eyes were drawn to my father's face, which, I haven't really been able to examine in a long while. When you live with someone, you never notice the subtle changes in their appearance. Even when he comes to visit me at college, the moments are so packed with my endless descriptions of teachers, friends, course material, complaints about the dining hall, etc., that we never get to truly embrace the simplicity of being in each others' presence. So when my eyes fluttered open, I noticed the thin lines around my dad's eyes which had not been there before.

It was strange to finally see the physical manifestations of his age.

My whole life, my dad's had the inquisitive nature of a small child, the energy of an enthused twenty-something, and the wisdom of an old man.

Everpresent Conundrums.

Every battle that takes place in my mind always concludes with the same ceasefire: Balance. Balance solves every conundrum, it is the remedy for all uneasiness and is the goal for anyone on a mission toward holistic self-improvement. My most recent quandary deals with the fact that peace is attained through a genuine acceptance of one's place in life. One's situation must fully be embraced and accepted for the purest calm to reign in the mind. However, having goals, in my opinion, is the only real thing that makes life meaningful; having an objective to strive for inherently means that you cannot simply accept the way things are - instead, you must have some inner drive not to settle for the way things are but to keep pacing towards progress. Both are necessary, hence the contradiction I'm struggling with which inevitably should result in balance.

Maybe part of the problem is that I'm using dissatisfaction with certain aspects of my life as the driving force behind wanting to make improvements, and instead, I should sublimate that dissatisfaction into a sense of gratitude that I'm alive and healthy and very much in a position to make necessary changes and improvements. This is tough for me though. Perhaps the single quote that's made the biggest impact on me in recent years has been the following: "Suffering arises when our view of the way things ought to be doesn't match the way things are." (This is from a phenomenal book called Dharma Punx.) This quote made such an impact on me because it helped me tremendously with working on my state of mind. One time I remember walking in Manhattan and it started to rain, ruining my hair. Before I was able to get flustered, I quietly muttered to myself "It's okay that it's raining. Even though my evening won't go completely as planned, rain is a part of nature and nature is perfect." This mental exercise, inspired by that one quote, allowed me to not for a second get distraught over the triviality which I would have otherwise fixated on. This sentiment has helped me with other, more important things as well, such as dealing with pain (physical and emotional). For the first time though I find myself unsatisfied with my ability to apply the core of that quote to certain parts of my life - and I actually take some pride in that. This is because there are certain things, like one's most meaningful relationships, in which it would be utterly insulting to apply a mere acceptance of the status quo without working to improve every aspect of your dynamic with the people you care about.

So now I'm starting to realize that the quote, "Suffering arises when your view of the way things ought to be doesn't match the way things are," remains relevant to things solely beyond your control. For the parts of your life you can influence, however, improvement is always possible and is in fact a necessity which warrants the opposite of placid acceptance.

Chipped Teacups

I am a cup that used to be filled with love, filled with hope. Filled with ease, filled with calm.

Most of the contact I've had over the years has been with serrated edges: objects too hard and sharp for my delicacy.

Consequently my once smooth edges have cracked - at the base, at the rim, inside and outside, making me brittle. All this hope and love and ease and calm slipped right through. It began gradually, but soon these elements gushed right through my fractures to find a new, less broken home.

I sat on my dish patiently. I stopped waiting for sweet contents to pour back into me because I accepted that sweetness deserved a safe and elegant chalice. I, however, was neither of these. Thus, I sought bitterness and acidity. These would settle for a dreadful thing like me.

Time passed and I became more worn down and anything and everything I once accommodated has depleted. Left empty and utterly irreparable, I once more sat alone.

Then came You: harboring no intentions of piecing me back together with adhesive -

Because You found me perfect just as I am.

Thoughts on a Plane.

Complexity.

The root rejects its host - it longs for the uncertainty

married to the bride that is freedom.

The host's piercing energy unravels involuntarily--

instinctively attempting to capture the renegade parasite which now seeks flight.

Roots are destined for stagnancy,

entrenched in the darkness of the cold, coarse ground.

Why flee the warmth of the sun? The radiance it promises?

The irrational allure of freedom is the answer.

Life: a linear spectrum of gray matter: rarely black and white.

Life and death, sun and shade - an omnipresent fusion of extremes.

Absolutes make it too easy.

We must live the questions.

Life: A dizzying array of colors, a precise inventory of formulas--

intricacy battles simplicity.

In the end, majesty won.

Re-Examining My Biggest Inspiration

Delving into Walden four years after I first read it has been a refreshing experience. While reading the first chapter, Economy, I couldn't help but relfect upon what is perhaps Thoreau's most profound statement: "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." It is so true; so many people feel like they are in a state of stagnancy and do not know how to move forward. Too often, people look for the solutions to their problems in all the wrong places and seek palliatives rather than real answers. Thoreau asserts that the best solution to any ailment is to genuinely simplify one's life. He claims that a "stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are the games and amusements of mankind;" I acknowledge that it is temporarily easier to deflect one's problems and engage in activities that assist in distracting oneself but it is far less meaningful than delving into our minds and introspecting. A thorough analysis of the path on which one treads has no substitute, and this practice has significantly enhanced the meaning of my own life. I admire someone who makes the effort to live such a pure life.

I sometimes look back on my time when I lived in New York for two years as my equivalent to Thoreau's time at Walden because I had to learn to apply sublimation to my distress and enjoy the time I spent alone. I was incredibly lonely, and was unable to form solid connections with anyone around me. I had to try and see the beauty in independence and had no option but to stop relying on others for happiness. Thoreau accomplished this, for he stresses on so many occasions that "the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hinderances to the elevation of mankind." I remember when I first read this exact line four years ago, and in retrospect, I think I retained it so well because this sentiment was one of the few ideas that got me through difficult times while attending my first high school in Manhattan; I tried to reiterate to myself that the superficiality by which I was surrounded was not going to get my peers anywhere, and it would not bring them long term peace. Only a lifestyle which Thoreau experienced where all superfluous and corrupt entities are weeded out of one's life will result in true contentment.

The portion of Walden entitled "Economy" dissects how Thoreau observes human nature to have entered a mind-numbing stupor. I see so many correlations between Thoreau's perception from the 1800s and my perception of the world now. Thoreau's critique in "Economy" in which he poses the question "Why should [men] eat their sixty acres, when man is condemned to eat only his peck of dirt?" is a reflection on how people fail to see the limits on what they can acquire. The same question was asked, in a more modern fashion (with references more pertinent to our culture in the 21st century) in a 2009 TIME magazine article entitled "The End of Excess". Thoreau mentions a concept he affectionately dubs "the divinity of man," making an allusion to the fact that human beings seem to put themselves up on pedestals -- as if we can infinitely consume and revel in delusions of false progress. He says that "there are so many keen and subtle masters that enslave both north and south" after discussing the issue of slavery and how frivolous an "amenity" it is to possess an enslaved person. These "subtle masters" of which Thoreau speaks are undoubtedly social conventions that people have this fervent need to buy into: social conventions, of any sort, that when embraced, hinder one's own sense of personal aspiration and individual pursuit of happiness.

I remember reading Thoreau when I was still at prep school in New York. His words helped me crawl out of the intense depression I had entered because his literature was able to remind me that going against the grain is healthy. I was miserable at my school because I felt as if there was something wrong with me due to my inability to relate to others. It was lines like "Public opinion is a weak tyrant compared with our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself, that is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate" which helped me (and still helps me) understand the power of introspection and the importance of feeling comfortable with one's sense of self, for it reiterates that public opinion or popular fashion doesn't equal divine mandate or truth.

Broadening.

"To the sick the doctors wisely recommend a change of air and scenery." This sentiment at the very end of Walden carries such gravity to me personally because there was nothing I thought of more while I was living in New York. No matter how hard we try and think positively, sometimes uplifting ourselves is out of our control when we are in an environment we deem suffocating and unfit for us. Thoreau felt a similar sense of disgust for his environment and the over indulgence and blind acceptance he witnessed so prevalently around him. This is why he retreated to an atmosphere where it is absolutely essential to get to know your surroundings and think critically about everything in order to live adequately.

Thoreau exclaims, "Thank Heaven, here is not all the world. The buckeye does not grow in New England, and the mocking-bird is rarely heard here." It's truly ridiculous when people assume that the rest of the world is like the small cocoon in which they live. I admire the fact that Thoreau receives such excitement from the very prospect of exploration, let alone, physically going out to expand his horizons in unknown environments. He explains how we subconsciously set up boundaries in which we confine ourselves within our minds which are physically manifested through stone walls guarding our farms and rail-fences against our property. He maintains that this is the most pervasive tragedy. He says that "the universe is wider than our views of it," and therefore it is up to us to allow ourselves to continually expand our views. It is the only way to view the world holistically and not narrowly. Lines like these make me think of my seventh grade year during which I wrote a speech on introspection. My closing line was, "if you don't introspect you will still survive, but if you do introspect you will truly thrive."

Punk Rock, Thoreau, and Learning

My favorite Punk band of all time is Bad Religion. They are always blunt and forward with their social and political critiques and always attempt to provoke their listeners in an intelligent fashion. In their song, "21st Century Digital Boy," their lead singer, Greg Graffin, sings, "I'm a 21st century digital boy/ I don't know how to read but I've got a lot of toys." The underlying sentiment of these lines mirrors precisely what Thoreau gets across when he states the following: "As with our colleges, so with a hundred 'modern improvements,' there is an illusion about them... Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention away from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end." Thoreau is again commenting on misplaced priorities in society. Engagement with the natural world and all it has to offer for our self betterment become more and more distant in a society which is becoming increasingly concerned with materialism and artificial advancements. His comment about colleges touches upon how education started to become more and more standardized, as with most things in a capitalist society, leading to personalized approaches to happiness becoming more distant. He is aware of the fact that society offers too many petty distractions from our quests of self improvement; the Bad Religion song reflects this awareness as well. Today's climate exacerbates these social ailments when we have flashing billboards encouraging useless consumption; countless influences glittered with gaudy lights beg us mercilessly for our attention so we will fail to look inward, instead, at the emptiness which will one day present itself to us.