It's been a few days now since I finished reading Ayn Rand's 'Atlas Shrugged', and I can honestly say that it was quite an experience. Having given it some time to percolate through my mind, I can say that I consider it a work that is very enlightening, if flawed. Although at one point I thought that I much prefer The Fountainhead [1] to Atlas Shrugged, I'm now no longer so sure.
I think that the main differences between The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged are that although they seem to both encompass the same underlying life philosophy, Atlas Shrugged is more confident and bombastic. Whereas The Fountainhead was mostly about 'show, don't tell', Atlas Shrugged likes to tell you what it thinks. A lot.
This unfortunately led to me rolling my eyes at a lot of internal dialogue, especially at the beginning of the book when Mr Rearden considers his family and near the end of the book with Galt's small novel worth of... ranting, I guess. I'm somewhat sorry to say that this latter exposition appeared to me tedious and repetitive enough that I mostly skipped through it.
So it's a poorly written story, then? Far from it. As I mentioned earlier, it's an enlightening if flawed experience. When the book tones down the preaching and posturing some, it's actually a really good story with highly detailed and intriguing characters. I especially found myself really liking one of the main characters: Dagny Taggart. Her frustrations as she sees her life's work taken away from her and demolished in front of her eyes was palpable.
It should be noted here that over the years I had been informed by others that 'Atlas Shrugged' is a novel about a bunch of rich folk deciding that they don't want to pay their due to society any more and establish their own 'perfect' society somewhere else. This concept is also what for example the Bioshock video game series is based on. Colour my surprise when I found out that Atlas Shrugged is nothing like that premise.
As the story begins, Dagny Taggart is the head of Operations at US rail company Taggart Transcontinental, who together with childhood friend Eddie and others try to keep the business together even as it is clear that some kind of rot has set in. New rail from a steel foundry has not been delivered for months, resulting in an entire section of track reaching a state where it can no longer be safely used. The owner of the foundry claims a situation beyond his control.
This sets the tone of the next chapters: even as Dagny Taggart and Rearden with his new metal alloy called 'Rearden Metal' are dreaming of how they can transform the country with high-speed Diesel trains running on solid tracks made with this super-durable Rearden Metal, they're finding that contracts are not being fulfilled and then a new law gets passed that essentially forbids market competition. Instead each US state should see exactly the same rail services, same job prospects and so on.
These regulations gradually gets expanded, all in the name of equality. Suddenly no manufacturer of steel, coal, or anything else is allowed to produce more than their competitors. Any protests against these regulations are met with an explanation that it is all for the common good. That this isn't the time to think about one's personal situation, but about the failing companies, the starving and desperate people in society. Many of these measures just temporary anyway, until the economy recovers.
Throughout this time, Dagny is astounded to learn that many people she knew suddenly seem to vanish. Some suddenly announce that they are 'retiring', leaving behind a factory or other company with no word about a successor, while others just vanish overnight without leaving a trace. She is afraid that there is a 'Destroyer' behind this, someone or some force which will end up also getting to her. It aren't just industrialists who are vanishing now, but also a lot of good workers, bankers and even artists.
In a world that feels ever more desolate, Dagny finally finds out what is happening as she intercepts a brilliant young scientist who she had working for her on a new engine design. Following the airplane he is in using her own airplane, she crash lands in a remote valley, where she meets this 'Destroyer'. As it turns out, all the people who 'vanished' simply followed John Galt and the others like him.
Meeting back up with all these friends and acquaintances, Dagny is confronted with the greyness of her life back in New York. How every waking moment is spent on keeping a railroad network together, even when there are practically no foundries any more, and even what Rearden produces is 'equally distributed' so that Rearden Metal can be used for metal gadgets instead of railroad tracks to keep the country together.
Even then, Dagny is not ready to abandon 'her' railroad like so many of these people in the valley have already given up their life's works to escape that cycle of self-exploitation. Returning to New York, she keeps fighting for another few months, ripping out parts of still usable track to repair the main lines to keep a few trains running. Meanwhile the country suffers from shortages in just about everything. Coal, gasoline, food, everything is rationed and power shortages lead to frequent blackouts.
As the country slowly dies, the US government ends up capturing John Galt, the man who has been this persistent rumour for many years now, immortalised in the saying 'who is John Galt?'. Pinning their hopes on John Galt, the latter refuses to let himself to be used to try and fix what is wrong with the country, since those leading the country refuse to admit that their policies were flawed to begin with.
After a harrowing escape, Dagny, John and those who came to rescue them find themselves waiting out the collapse of society in their hideout, as they plan out how to bring the country back again.
The basic tenets here are similar to those portrayed in The Fountainhead: one's own happiness is paramount, as is fairness towards others. Talent and dedication in others is to be acknowledged and rewarded. One never gives anything without expecting something in return of equal value. One can only be guilty of a crime if one accepts the particular set of morals in which one's actions would be a transgression.
Another important point here is that personal happiness cannot be achieved through the exploitation of others. Although one's own happiness is more important than the happiness of others, one does not increase one's own happiness by reducing the happiness of others. Similarly, the exchange of something of equal value is a very relative thing, not necessarily defined in a monetary value. After all, material possessions mean nothing if one's heart and mind are devoid of joy.
Wrapping up, as I mentioned at the beginning, the flaws in this story are found mostly in its tendency to preach instead of just showing what it means. Looking at the story outside of those flaws, it is a highly enjoyable story that manages to bring its points across in a harrowing and haunting fashion. It contains very real, if simplified, warnings about both the dangers of totalitarianism as well as those of neo-liberalism [2], systems which are based on coercing the individual into self-exploitation.
Although I would hardly call myself a devout follower of Objectivism even after reading some of Ayn Rand's works, I find it very refreshing to read stories based around a philosophy which is so close to humanism and yet so scorned by many.
Maya
[1] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2020/05/my-formal-apology-to-ayn-rand-or.html
[2] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2020/07/altruism-is-anathema-to-humanism.html
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Sunday, 19 July 2020
Monday, 6 July 2020
Altruism is anathema to humanism
The role of the individual within a society appears to be often not very clearly defined, with both catchphrases as 'pursuit of personal happiness' and 'for the greater good' being tossed around on a regular basis. On one hand we are being led to believe that we are free to choose our own path in life, while on the other we are being asked to unselfishly sacrifice ourselves for the benefit of all. Where does the border between these two concepts lie, one might ask?
Few words in the English language have such a persistently negative connotation as 'selfishness'. Its definition [1] is essentially that of an intense preoccupation with just oneself, which apparently by definition is an act that occurs at the cost of Others. This could lead one to assume that one's ideal existence in society is by definition one of servitude towards these Others, that one's own goals in life are by definition selfish unless they are completely altruistic, meaning the practice of self-sacrifice, without disregard for one's own state of mind or cost to one's own existence or life.
An often used example used to exalt the glory of altruism is that of a bird which pretends to be hurt while limping away from her nest which contains her eggs or newborn offspring. By risking her own life, she saves the lives of her offspring. Ironically, this ignores both the fact that procreation is a selfish act as at no point was the offspring consulted on its desire to come into existence, as well as that the entire issue with such birds being that they didn't form a society.
The goal of animals living together in flocks, herds, etc. is to provide mutual protection and safety in numbers, significantly raising one's survival chances relative to not knowing whether one will even wake up without other animals performing look-out duty for predators. Birds living in groups can scare away predators and warn each other when threats approach, as well as secure food and water sources much more easily than a lone bird could.
The entire point of human civilisation has been to allow ever larger groups of people to gather in societies capable of building ever better defences against natural threats; not just predators, but also diseases. A society depends on individuals working together, with everybody pitching in to the best of their abilities. Not for the Others, nor for just themselves, but for both.
A society is held together by social contracts, after all, much like any business transaction. As part of the individual's agreement to become a part of the society, they share the fruits of their skills and mind with the rest of society, receiving something of equal value in return. The entirety of this system depends on balance and mutual appreciation. It is thereby each individual's selfish desire to make society better, because it will benefit all. The concept of altruism destroys this as readily as greed would.
One of the primary tenets of humanism is the realisation that everything in society exists only because of the efforts of countless human beings, that everything begins and ends with the actions of humans, which underlines the need for mutual respect and trust. Over the past centuries we as a species have slowly come to terms with the fact that a society based on servitude of any type is not sustainable, with first slavery and then derivations of it being pushed to a place in society where it is less visible. Yet the new forms of these vile attacks on individual freedom are ever more insidious.
Thus we get such horrors as Neo-Liberalism, which forms a de-facto upper ruling class and the lower classes, much like back in the old feudal days and the centuries of aristocracies and monarchies. These are systems where the lower classes are shown the illusion of personal freedom and choice as they are guided into the system of self-sacrifice, while human traffickers bring in victims to be exploited in a manner that disregards any value to human lives. Even when not falling victim to modern slavery, when does one have time for self-development and exploration?
The sole goal of most is to get a job because society's contract defines that only those who work in an officially sanctioned and taxed position are doing their Duty for the Nation. It's the kind of system where the artist or brilliant scientist who had the misfortune of having been born into the wrong societal class has to work a menial job as a clerk at a post office or something like it, because the fact of being employed is valued higher than what fruits their true skills and mind are capable of producing. Those are merely curious happenstance.
The only good thing about this system is probably that it is by definition overflowing with self-sacrifice, self-exploitation and altruism. Of course, that is assuming that these are one's goals. Tragically, it comes at the cost of everything that makes an individual unique and with it their potential contribution to society.
In the end, we find that the new aristocracy is scraping together more and more wealth, while using tax heavens to dodge the only way that they could have contributed anything useful to society. Meanwhile, the lower classes are being asked to sacrifice a bit more every time. Whenever the stock markets take a dive it aren't the bankers or politicians or CEOs who have to deal with the consequences, but instead the lower classes are told to 'show solidarity during these difficult times' as their tax money is funnelled into the pockets of well-tailored suits.
This makes altruism nothing but a tool to be used for the sake of greed, to cynically exploit Others by breaking the social contract of mutual trust.
Maya
[1] https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/selfishness
Few words in the English language have such a persistently negative connotation as 'selfishness'. Its definition [1] is essentially that of an intense preoccupation with just oneself, which apparently by definition is an act that occurs at the cost of Others. This could lead one to assume that one's ideal existence in society is by definition one of servitude towards these Others, that one's own goals in life are by definition selfish unless they are completely altruistic, meaning the practice of self-sacrifice, without disregard for one's own state of mind or cost to one's own existence or life.
An often used example used to exalt the glory of altruism is that of a bird which pretends to be hurt while limping away from her nest which contains her eggs or newborn offspring. By risking her own life, she saves the lives of her offspring. Ironically, this ignores both the fact that procreation is a selfish act as at no point was the offspring consulted on its desire to come into existence, as well as that the entire issue with such birds being that they didn't form a society.
The goal of animals living together in flocks, herds, etc. is to provide mutual protection and safety in numbers, significantly raising one's survival chances relative to not knowing whether one will even wake up without other animals performing look-out duty for predators. Birds living in groups can scare away predators and warn each other when threats approach, as well as secure food and water sources much more easily than a lone bird could.
The entire point of human civilisation has been to allow ever larger groups of people to gather in societies capable of building ever better defences against natural threats; not just predators, but also diseases. A society depends on individuals working together, with everybody pitching in to the best of their abilities. Not for the Others, nor for just themselves, but for both.
A society is held together by social contracts, after all, much like any business transaction. As part of the individual's agreement to become a part of the society, they share the fruits of their skills and mind with the rest of society, receiving something of equal value in return. The entirety of this system depends on balance and mutual appreciation. It is thereby each individual's selfish desire to make society better, because it will benefit all. The concept of altruism destroys this as readily as greed would.
One of the primary tenets of humanism is the realisation that everything in society exists only because of the efforts of countless human beings, that everything begins and ends with the actions of humans, which underlines the need for mutual respect and trust. Over the past centuries we as a species have slowly come to terms with the fact that a society based on servitude of any type is not sustainable, with first slavery and then derivations of it being pushed to a place in society where it is less visible. Yet the new forms of these vile attacks on individual freedom are ever more insidious.
Thus we get such horrors as Neo-Liberalism, which forms a de-facto upper ruling class and the lower classes, much like back in the old feudal days and the centuries of aristocracies and monarchies. These are systems where the lower classes are shown the illusion of personal freedom and choice as they are guided into the system of self-sacrifice, while human traffickers bring in victims to be exploited in a manner that disregards any value to human lives. Even when not falling victim to modern slavery, when does one have time for self-development and exploration?
The sole goal of most is to get a job because society's contract defines that only those who work in an officially sanctioned and taxed position are doing their Duty for the Nation. It's the kind of system where the artist or brilliant scientist who had the misfortune of having been born into the wrong societal class has to work a menial job as a clerk at a post office or something like it, because the fact of being employed is valued higher than what fruits their true skills and mind are capable of producing. Those are merely curious happenstance.
The only good thing about this system is probably that it is by definition overflowing with self-sacrifice, self-exploitation and altruism. Of course, that is assuming that these are one's goals. Tragically, it comes at the cost of everything that makes an individual unique and with it their potential contribution to society.
In the end, we find that the new aristocracy is scraping together more and more wealth, while using tax heavens to dodge the only way that they could have contributed anything useful to society. Meanwhile, the lower classes are being asked to sacrifice a bit more every time. Whenever the stock markets take a dive it aren't the bankers or politicians or CEOs who have to deal with the consequences, but instead the lower classes are told to 'show solidarity during these difficult times' as their tax money is funnelled into the pockets of well-tailored suits.
This makes altruism nothing but a tool to be used for the sake of greed, to cynically exploit Others by breaking the social contract of mutual trust.
Maya
[1] https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/selfishness
Friday, 27 December 2019
The body anchors reality
What do you feel like? What do you want to feel like? What do you feel, experience, dream about? What do you see your body as? What do you think your body is? What do you want your body to be? Why?
Most of my life seems to have consisted out of these questions being asked over and over again. By myself. By others. Some of them mostly after I found out about my body being intersex, and suddenly it was assumed that I would have to question all of those things about my body and my sense of self. About which genitals I prefer. What clothing I am into. Why I'm not wearing make-up if I do the 'female' thing. Which gender I prefer. Which pronouns I wish to be addressed with. When I'm getting surgery to fix this wretched body of mine.
I can see now that they were all just veils, illusions that were covering up the truth. Designed to trap a person in a maze with no exit, only to keep them wandering around forever more in a world that almost makes sense. The concept of gender, for one, is merely a social contract [1] that has no bearing on an individual's intrinsic qualities. Yet it skillfully traps a mind the way a spider's web would trap an unsuspecting fly.
In that sense, the question of 'do you feel more like a man or woman?' is not a question that can be reasonably answered, especially when taken into account that the brain does not encode a preferred biological sex [2]. The turmoil which I experienced therefore in my mind the past years was not due to me having to get into touch with my True Feelings or such, but rather because I kept getting asked questions which do not have an answer.
I cannot feel like a man or a woman, because that's not a valid question. I can only ever feel like myself. Because every brain is a unique mosaic with unique memories. Similarly, every human body is different. Because of one's DNA. Because of one's phenotype because no body develops the same way. This makes every individual and every individual's body uniquely them.
Similarly, the question of which genitals I would prefer to have is a nonsensical question. Why would I want to remove what my body has unless there is a medical need to do so? If I felt that way, I would question the feeling instead. I have had years to ask myself whether I would be okay with having not just female but also male genitals. After I pushed away society's expectations, I found that I could easily accept and love my body the way it is. How could I not? Because it's 'different'? I grew up with this body, so to me it is per definition 'normal'.
This body that I was born with, with its unusual phenotype, is as much of a valid phenotype as any other, because it exists. My body may be more unique than that of most people, perhaps, but it anchors me to reality as much as any other body would. With my senses I can experience reality. With my limbs I can move around and manipulate the world around me. This is reality. This is me, my body, in reality.
Turns out, reality is pretty simple. It are the delusions that make it complicated.
Maya
[1] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2019/12/gender-is-social-contract-not-part-of.html
[2] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2019/12/your-brain-doesnt-care-what-genitals.html
Most of my life seems to have consisted out of these questions being asked over and over again. By myself. By others. Some of them mostly after I found out about my body being intersex, and suddenly it was assumed that I would have to question all of those things about my body and my sense of self. About which genitals I prefer. What clothing I am into. Why I'm not wearing make-up if I do the 'female' thing. Which gender I prefer. Which pronouns I wish to be addressed with. When I'm getting surgery to fix this wretched body of mine.
I can see now that they were all just veils, illusions that were covering up the truth. Designed to trap a person in a maze with no exit, only to keep them wandering around forever more in a world that almost makes sense. The concept of gender, for one, is merely a social contract [1] that has no bearing on an individual's intrinsic qualities. Yet it skillfully traps a mind the way a spider's web would trap an unsuspecting fly.
In that sense, the question of 'do you feel more like a man or woman?' is not a question that can be reasonably answered, especially when taken into account that the brain does not encode a preferred biological sex [2]. The turmoil which I experienced therefore in my mind the past years was not due to me having to get into touch with my True Feelings or such, but rather because I kept getting asked questions which do not have an answer.
I cannot feel like a man or a woman, because that's not a valid question. I can only ever feel like myself. Because every brain is a unique mosaic with unique memories. Similarly, every human body is different. Because of one's DNA. Because of one's phenotype because no body develops the same way. This makes every individual and every individual's body uniquely them.
Similarly, the question of which genitals I would prefer to have is a nonsensical question. Why would I want to remove what my body has unless there is a medical need to do so? If I felt that way, I would question the feeling instead. I have had years to ask myself whether I would be okay with having not just female but also male genitals. After I pushed away society's expectations, I found that I could easily accept and love my body the way it is. How could I not? Because it's 'different'? I grew up with this body, so to me it is per definition 'normal'.
This body that I was born with, with its unusual phenotype, is as much of a valid phenotype as any other, because it exists. My body may be more unique than that of most people, perhaps, but it anchors me to reality as much as any other body would. With my senses I can experience reality. With my limbs I can move around and manipulate the world around me. This is reality. This is me, my body, in reality.
Turns out, reality is pretty simple. It are the delusions that make it complicated.
Maya
[1] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2019/12/gender-is-social-contract-not-part-of.html
[2] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2019/12/your-brain-doesnt-care-what-genitals.html
Thursday, 19 December 2019
What remains after everything else has been lost
Looking back at the stories which have emotionally affected me the most over the years, I can now see the pattern that connects them. It's a pattern of loss. From anime series like Kanon, Saishuuheiki Kanojo, Noir, Death Parade, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Haibane Renmei, Hotaru no Haka ('Grave of the Fireflies'), Black Lagoon and Knights of Sidonia to a series like Star Trek Voyager, the overarching theme is that of loss, with the struggle to try and overcome it. Sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing.
So then why this strong emotional response with the experiencing and struggle against loss? It seems fairly obvious, I would say. From whatever was done to me when I was five years old and the loss of my childhood, to my struggles to regain a semblance of a normal life, even as I felt more parts of myself stripped away as I finished high school. Then the madness of dealing with the medical system in the context of trying to figure out my body's intersex condition. Which just led to everything I thought I knew about myself and my body questioned, thrown into controversy, with differing professional opinions essentially stripping away the last vestiges of self.
That's what it feels like to lose everything you are. Everything you think, feel, see or are is gone. There's only the absolute uncertainty and the loss of self that comes with it. Even now that I think I am on the way to recovery, reintegrating memories and confronting decades of traumas, there are countless moments when everything just falls apart again around me. Reintegrating the body with a fractured psyche isn't an easy task.
Yet there's something that I have never lost. Even as I took the decision to end my life - now years ago - only me having succeeded at that attempt could have snuffed out this inner flame that is the most essential core of my being. I can visualise it as this bright, yellow flame that pulsates softly with the beating of my heart. Sometimes it's a bit dimmer. Sometimes it moves uncertainly, as if there's a breeze threatening to extinguish it, but it's always been there.
I can close my eyes and slip inside myself, to that perfect darkness, with only this flame inside. To observe it, and with it myself. To observe my own state of being in an objective manner. To reach that point of perfect focus.
It is interesting that seemingly only through such negative experiences can one seem to truly reach this part of oneself, and with it change the way one sees the world. I remember all too well that when I first watched Star Trek Voyager during the 90s when it aired in the Netherlands, I was basically still a child, and I found too many episodes of the series to be rather boring, not getting a lot of it. Watching it a few years ago again, it was a completely different experience. Suddenly I could see and experience the profound sense of loss, frustration, hope and desperate struggle for survival, with almost every episode being this dark descent into despair and madness.
Then this profound sense of loss as Voyager made it back to Earth after all those years of struggling, and feeling this renewed sense of loss as now this family that had formed on the ship over the years would now be ripped apart.
I only started watching anime series after 2000, at which point I already appeared to have developed this sensitivity to loss. It has guided my preferences ever since, with each of those aforementioned series moving through a similar pattern. Some ending on a happy note, others hopeful, others bittersweet, others surrendering to the inevitable.
Now it seems that I can move forward, figuring out the sources of loss, and how to deal with it. Not that this is easy in any way. Much like how the main character in Knights of Sidonia can never truly forgive himself, or forget this one person whom he treasured most, it's more about giving such a strong sense of loss a place, framing the memories attached to it, and reminiscing about it when it's appropriate, without it controlling or even destroying one's life.
This is also where the story in Knights of Sidonia is so tough and recognisable to me, as it is not a clean loss, but something that keeps coming back, haunting one over and over, never allowing it to settle in a comfortable spot in one's memories, but growing new claws every time and rending new bloody gashes in one's psyche. Over and over. Then taking one's own hands and having one strangle the person you loved the most in front of your very eyes.
It's not an easy loss to cope with. It's why maybe the only way that I can fully deal with the losses which I have suffered is by actually getting the medical help needed to fully diagnose and treat my intersex condition, to fully reintegrate that part of me, and to allow me to give those traumas and associated sense of loss a place, instead of having every confrontation with doctors and kin being this new episode of those memories growing new fangs and claws, prior to them tearing into my flesh once again.
In order to heal, one must be given the opportunity to do so. To create this opportunity requires others to make this possible. This is hard in a society where most people are lost flames, unaware of their inner self, unable to reflect and understand the concept of loss. Unable to fully comprehend the unbridled joy that comes with something given freely, with a pure heart. A bright flame.
Maya
So then why this strong emotional response with the experiencing and struggle against loss? It seems fairly obvious, I would say. From whatever was done to me when I was five years old and the loss of my childhood, to my struggles to regain a semblance of a normal life, even as I felt more parts of myself stripped away as I finished high school. Then the madness of dealing with the medical system in the context of trying to figure out my body's intersex condition. Which just led to everything I thought I knew about myself and my body questioned, thrown into controversy, with differing professional opinions essentially stripping away the last vestiges of self.
That's what it feels like to lose everything you are. Everything you think, feel, see or are is gone. There's only the absolute uncertainty and the loss of self that comes with it. Even now that I think I am on the way to recovery, reintegrating memories and confronting decades of traumas, there are countless moments when everything just falls apart again around me. Reintegrating the body with a fractured psyche isn't an easy task.
Yet there's something that I have never lost. Even as I took the decision to end my life - now years ago - only me having succeeded at that attempt could have snuffed out this inner flame that is the most essential core of my being. I can visualise it as this bright, yellow flame that pulsates softly with the beating of my heart. Sometimes it's a bit dimmer. Sometimes it moves uncertainly, as if there's a breeze threatening to extinguish it, but it's always been there.
I can close my eyes and slip inside myself, to that perfect darkness, with only this flame inside. To observe it, and with it myself. To observe my own state of being in an objective manner. To reach that point of perfect focus.
It is interesting that seemingly only through such negative experiences can one seem to truly reach this part of oneself, and with it change the way one sees the world. I remember all too well that when I first watched Star Trek Voyager during the 90s when it aired in the Netherlands, I was basically still a child, and I found too many episodes of the series to be rather boring, not getting a lot of it. Watching it a few years ago again, it was a completely different experience. Suddenly I could see and experience the profound sense of loss, frustration, hope and desperate struggle for survival, with almost every episode being this dark descent into despair and madness.
Then this profound sense of loss as Voyager made it back to Earth after all those years of struggling, and feeling this renewed sense of loss as now this family that had formed on the ship over the years would now be ripped apart.
I only started watching anime series after 2000, at which point I already appeared to have developed this sensitivity to loss. It has guided my preferences ever since, with each of those aforementioned series moving through a similar pattern. Some ending on a happy note, others hopeful, others bittersweet, others surrendering to the inevitable.
Now it seems that I can move forward, figuring out the sources of loss, and how to deal with it. Not that this is easy in any way. Much like how the main character in Knights of Sidonia can never truly forgive himself, or forget this one person whom he treasured most, it's more about giving such a strong sense of loss a place, framing the memories attached to it, and reminiscing about it when it's appropriate, without it controlling or even destroying one's life.
This is also where the story in Knights of Sidonia is so tough and recognisable to me, as it is not a clean loss, but something that keeps coming back, haunting one over and over, never allowing it to settle in a comfortable spot in one's memories, but growing new claws every time and rending new bloody gashes in one's psyche. Over and over. Then taking one's own hands and having one strangle the person you loved the most in front of your very eyes.
It's not an easy loss to cope with. It's why maybe the only way that I can fully deal with the losses which I have suffered is by actually getting the medical help needed to fully diagnose and treat my intersex condition, to fully reintegrate that part of me, and to allow me to give those traumas and associated sense of loss a place, instead of having every confrontation with doctors and kin being this new episode of those memories growing new fangs and claws, prior to them tearing into my flesh once again.
In order to heal, one must be given the opportunity to do so. To create this opportunity requires others to make this possible. This is hard in a society where most people are lost flames, unaware of their inner self, unable to reflect and understand the concept of loss. Unable to fully comprehend the unbridled joy that comes with something given freely, with a pure heart. A bright flame.
Maya
Wednesday, 30 October 2019
Moments when one truly is alive
Perhaps the most ironic thing about feeling alive is that it's something of which is only truly aware when the numbness of merely existing subsides. When one's thoughts during the day consist mostly out of reminders of one's duty and unpleasant recollections of previous failures, the world around you will keep turning a shade more grey and dull every moment. When one feels haunted by one's past, more rocks keep getting added to this weight that is slowly crushing one's soul and spirit.
To then be reminded of what it is like to feel alive is both a wondrously amazing and yet exceedingly excruciating experience. While feeling the lightness, colours and happiness flood one's system, it is impossible to not start crying. To release the pain, to celebrate the feeling of being alive and to embrace the warmth of hope and faith. That there is more to this world than duty and repressing past failures and traumas. That life can be a world filled with merry laughter and warmth.
Remembering those moments when one is only distantly aware of the fact that one's body is really, that this world in which this body exists and moves around in is real. What's real, after all?
Haunted by the pain of the past, of being lied to and deceived. One remembers being a boy, only one wasn't a boy. That was all a lie. One remembers being told things by doctors. By psychologists. By random people. One's mind briefly revisits childhood traumas. One tries to remember that although all of it was real once, it is now in the past. It all blends together into this frantic and unrelenting assault on one's sanity. Past. Present. Future. Which way is which again?
Some rare moments I can feel my spirit lifted up and the bleakness of merely existing lifted through unexpected means. Such as through a well-written love story, where the characters truly feel like they could exist and their struggles and relationship feels genuine. Or a bitter-sweet film, where self-sacrifice somehow offers hope to many others. Moments when one can feel the raw emotions welling up inside of one's chest, with nothing in between to deaden or hide it. Suddenly everything all seems so clear and the world so full of life.
It makes one feel that life is indeed worth living. Not out of duty or obligation, but because one is filled with the passion of life, and one is a human being who can experience all of those aspects of life, while sharing those experiences with others.
It's such a difference from living with the bleakness of merely existing and false hope. When the euphoria wears off again, it's all too easy to slip back into the shadows. Feel the warm glow of loving and being loved back slowly cool and fade until it feels fake and forced. Accept that it was all just a play of one's emotions, unrelated to reason and one's humanity. Or was it?
Maybe it are those moments when we truly allow our humanity to shine through, when we are no longer bound by the shackles our minds have created over the years. Accepting this would however highlight the tragedy of most 'social gatherings', which appear to be driven primarily out of duty and obligation, not because it is truly because we want it, or because it makes us feel alive.
Can you feel the pain inside? Can you feel the weight crushing your spirit, even as you lie to yourself? Again?
Are you happy? Do you feel alive? Do you want to cry in rage and pain?
Do you feel like sobbing uncontrollably in joy? Do you feel your heart overflowing with love?
Do you feel human?
Do you exist?
Are you alive?
Maya
To then be reminded of what it is like to feel alive is both a wondrously amazing and yet exceedingly excruciating experience. While feeling the lightness, colours and happiness flood one's system, it is impossible to not start crying. To release the pain, to celebrate the feeling of being alive and to embrace the warmth of hope and faith. That there is more to this world than duty and repressing past failures and traumas. That life can be a world filled with merry laughter and warmth.
Remembering those moments when one is only distantly aware of the fact that one's body is really, that this world in which this body exists and moves around in is real. What's real, after all?
Haunted by the pain of the past, of being lied to and deceived. One remembers being a boy, only one wasn't a boy. That was all a lie. One remembers being told things by doctors. By psychologists. By random people. One's mind briefly revisits childhood traumas. One tries to remember that although all of it was real once, it is now in the past. It all blends together into this frantic and unrelenting assault on one's sanity. Past. Present. Future. Which way is which again?
Some rare moments I can feel my spirit lifted up and the bleakness of merely existing lifted through unexpected means. Such as through a well-written love story, where the characters truly feel like they could exist and their struggles and relationship feels genuine. Or a bitter-sweet film, where self-sacrifice somehow offers hope to many others. Moments when one can feel the raw emotions welling up inside of one's chest, with nothing in between to deaden or hide it. Suddenly everything all seems so clear and the world so full of life.
It makes one feel that life is indeed worth living. Not out of duty or obligation, but because one is filled with the passion of life, and one is a human being who can experience all of those aspects of life, while sharing those experiences with others.
It's such a difference from living with the bleakness of merely existing and false hope. When the euphoria wears off again, it's all too easy to slip back into the shadows. Feel the warm glow of loving and being loved back slowly cool and fade until it feels fake and forced. Accept that it was all just a play of one's emotions, unrelated to reason and one's humanity. Or was it?
Maybe it are those moments when we truly allow our humanity to shine through, when we are no longer bound by the shackles our minds have created over the years. Accepting this would however highlight the tragedy of most 'social gatherings', which appear to be driven primarily out of duty and obligation, not because it is truly because we want it, or because it makes us feel alive.
Can you feel the pain inside? Can you feel the weight crushing your spirit, even as you lie to yourself? Again?
Are you happy? Do you feel alive? Do you want to cry in rage and pain?
Do you feel like sobbing uncontrollably in joy? Do you feel your heart overflowing with love?
Do you feel human?
Do you exist?
Are you alive?
Maya
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