The Winter Of Our Discontent

I have had a letter today. From my best friend.
The past months have been eventful for her to say the least. I know because I have been there for parts of it. So while reading her letter I could not help but notice that she sounded wistful. Like she longed for something else than what she had. Like she was desperate to break free.

And here I was all the time thinking that she had it all. Now, I am not so sure.

I am not so sure anymore about anybody whom I labelled successful, settled; anybody that I shoved in to a neat little box of "content" or "happy" or "with kids" or "married".
Because everything is not as it seems. I have noticed this in the past couple of weeks with quite a number of things. However, being me, I am never QUITE aware of this knowledge. At least not in the moments when I should be. It's that hindsight-thing again, you see.

Could it be that whatever happiness is, is defined by other people?
Is that the reason that we are all so miserable? So unhappy with our lot. So very deep in the Winter of our Discontent? I am not speaking of luxury goods and yachts and being spoilt rotten and still complaining whilst there are women, children, and men who do not have enough food to eat, no clothes to wear, no bed, no house to sleep in. That is undeniably happening in our world today but this is not what I am writing about at this precise moment in time, in this post, in this blog, insignificant though it is.

I am speaking of being strangely unhappy and almost cold in the face of the achievements in your own life so far of which you should be proud, which should fill you with joy and happiness, with a sense of self and a knowledge of who you are and what you can do.

My friend's lines saddened me. Because she described what I usually feel... an unwavering longing for something that will finally, finally make the voice in my head stop saying "Right, that's done. What's next!?"
Like a drill sergeant this voice has, I believe, many of us rushing towards the next task, the next hurdle and all the time we are wondering, will I be good enough this time? And then there is always the darker version sounding a little like this: one of these days they are going to call my bluff.

And when I say rushing towards the next task, I do not mean it literally but more often than not life does not have us juggling just one plate. There is never just one other thing that we must do. There are many. We are thrown in at the deep end and have to either sink or swim. And nobody wants to sink. So we struggle and hope it works out. And when it does then there is the next thing to consider and do. And the next and so on and so forth.

I am far away from knowing how to solve this. I am just observing and recording.
But perhaps for the time being that is enough. 

Choices Shmoices

It’s  11:02 of the clock. We are finding ourselves in Frankfurt, surprisingly enough. The northwestern sky I spot from this here location is undecided whether to rain or shine.

I know the feeling.

Croissant or cheese straw for breakfast?

Coffee or plain old water?

Such were the early morning hurdles that needed overcoming. They were not necessarily super high but it is early days. I am sure there’s more to come. I can feel it.

And I ask myself: hurdles and their height (or obstacles if you will) – are they of the It’s all in your head-category? Take sports for example, the hesitant approach more often than not lets you falter altogether in front of whatever is to be jumped over and across. Courage! (or simply: get a move on!) – that was the heart-warming advice my gym teacher used to give.

Why anyone on earth would want to hurtle towards an obstacle ye high and what is more to try and leap to their possible death in order to get across it is beyond me. Well, perhaps death is a little too much but sprained ankles and twisted knees ain’t no laughing matter either.

Anyway, suffice it to say that for the last two years of school I was exempt from any jumping activities. Hurdles in particular. Plus my lack of enthusiasm for sports simply did not allow for gravity defiance and other such nonsense. Just because Jesus walked on water does not mean that one has to attempt the impossible – could be construed as being presumptuous, even blasphemous.

However, the main goal was achieved – no bloody hurdles for me.

But back to the point – hesitation, the dilly-dallying, the wavering when faced with the sheer unconquerable, the unscalable, the seemingly un-doable will make any obstacle into Mount Etna or something. Enter the doubts and boom! you are in for visualisations of doom, of failure and all around loser-dom. And - need I say - you fail, fear becomes truth, nay reality, you baulk (and stand IN FRONT OF the bloody hurdle). 

What if – crazy thought alert – we switched off that overly busy mind of ours, remain in the moment, no past, no future. Very Zen. VERY difficult!

Yet also truly the only way, after all the past cannot be changed, the future is unforeseeable.

All we have is that fleeting moment which we have got to make the best of, live it to the fullest to the best of our abilities.  

Ah, the sheer simplicity of it all! Were it not for our fear, our ego, our pride.

We cling to times gone by, moments lost, minutes past, long to get back to a time when all was golden. Oh how we wish we could… if only.

Similarly, we paint our future, sometimes rosy, sometimes black, we predict and guess and basically worry too much. 

Remaining in the here and now is complicated, even spoiled, by our fears, our ego, our pride – that being our true weakness.