Falling for fiction

I have touched upon this topic previously; however, I believe it needs focused revisiting. As a society, we are hopelessly inundated by a fictional world. I posit that society, specifically the media, are at the greatest fault for this reality, or I suppose I should say non-reality. The majority of what we intake, as a society, is a gross unreality. Movies and television, on the whole, portray nothing but fictional living: fictional families, fictional friendships and fictional romances. I assert that the third is the most abused. Society is so trained by the Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett type love stories as "seen on TV" or as "seen in movies" that subconsciously such fiction has become the standard for our real-life romances. Has it not? Examine yourself. Perhaps I am speaking largely to females at this point, but it's universally applicable, I believe, because such delusions regarding life and romance affect both sexes. Women (and men) are trained, by society, by media, to assume certain things about relationships, and I believe them largely false. However, we believe such delusions, I assert because they are more comforting and desirable than the alternative realities. Am I wrong? Why then do we indulge in romance novels, chick flicks, (for example) as opposed to spending time in reality--because the fiction is more appealing. I also believe that said fictional delusions muddy or confound our perceptions of actual reality and genuine relationships, causing them to become unsatisfying in comparison with our created and indulged fantasies. Confound fiction. And confound media. But, moreover confound altogether our inability to impose discipline upon ourselves and maintain the distinction. Would that all fictional men were more like Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind and simply say, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!" because that would be so much closer to the truth...

Fall has arrived...finally.

I think fall has come to Texas, finally. Yesterday was muggy and warm, as is per usual for this time of year in South Texas. I fell asleep last night to the sound of rain pelting against my bedroom window, and awoke to a crisp, cool, fall day. It almost felt like I was cheating as I drove to the store to pick up my daily newspaper, wondering if I was in some state other than Texas. The cold wind caressed the trees, as if to familiarize one with the other, after such a long absence. I experienced similar sensations this weekend as I explored the Texas Hill Country with two dear friends and witnessed colors that I didn't believe existed in the Lone Star state. I am continually being surprised by this place. And it pleases me. It always pleases when something I have placed in a box defies that box, and defies me. So, fall has finally come to Texas, and with it the infinite possibility for my expectations to be exceeded, I look forward.

Alone

Ultimately, we are all infinitely alone. No matter how close another person may get to us--physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually--no one other person can ever climb inside us and muddle about in our thoughts and emotions just as we experience them, or take a walk in our shoes, to quote a cliche. In that sense, we cannot ever be fully known by another person. That's an isolating feeling, is it not? To realize that we are all truly alone within ourselves. It's an interesting concept to ponder. This idea of pure isolation. It's almost frightening.

The notion can foster and breed a multiplicity of responses. As already stated, fear is one possible reaction. However, another possible response could be that of the victim. If we cannot ever be fully known, then we must all live and function as horribly mis-understood individuals. This could sadly create a society of purely self-absorbed, egotistical human beings who care about nothing other than wallowing in the reality of "unknowablness," and thus people would cease trying to know anyone or be known themselves. Resultantly, human connections: family, friendships, marriages, etc. would cease to have meaning or value, and society would crumble beneath the weight of the unknowable self.

So, with this knowledge, will we as humanity choose to retreat even further within ourselves, or will we try all the harder to open ourselves up to those around us, in hopes of being known, if not in full, then at least in part...? What's better, to be known a little or to not be known at all? Your choice.

Motives

Why do we do what we do? What motivates us? Do we ever examine this, our motives? Do we ever take the time or energy to delve deep within our hearts, our minds and ask ourselves why we do things? It's an uncomfortable concept. Truly asking ourselves the question, why? However, before we do much else, I think we need to learn to ask this question...

I believe it was Socrates who said, "the unexamined life is not worth living." Let's examine.

Reflection...

I spent the evening wrapped in reverie and nostalgia. I took a walk down memory lane to quote a tired, but true phrase. I poured over old journals, yearbooks, and notes from high school. It was surreal. To see myself from the lens of, well, myself. It was painful and it was humorous. To replay scenes and memories in my mind. To recall emotions evoked by specific events. To laugh at myself and laugh with myself yet again. To cringe at the elementary thought processes that were characteristic of my high school brain. I am not sure if it's comforting or discouraging to realize that many of my journal entries could have been written yesterday. In that, so many of the same struggles and vices persist. They seem to have clung even tighter with time, like some sort of parasite that grows larger and stronger when it is left alone to grow and fester in your dark and secret insides. However, I was also encouraged to see what things have changed, what vices have not persisted. This is the benefit of reflection: self awareness. Why else do we record our lives in such ways? If not to learn from the past and from our own poor decisions and patterns? I suppose I have some more reflecting to do...

Be careful what you pray for...

Life is riddled with irony. We are all familiar with the saying, "be careful what you wish for?" I know it more intimately as, "be careful what you pray for." I far too often underestimate the power of prayer. I beseech my Father, making petitions and forming requests, yet not fully understanding the potency or possibility in what it is I pray for. And then I am utterly surprised when He answers me, sometimes indignant. It's as if I don't expect it. My response to His responses usually progresses from surprise, to indignant anger, to utter gratitude. Gratitude for his realness. Yet, when we forget our requests for patience, for humility, for brokenness, and the answers arrive, the irony becomes painfully apparent. Maybe it's not irony, and something far more spiritual like grace or faithfulness, but to me, it feels pretty damn close to irony--the irony of getting exactly what you asked for--thank goodness for such painful irony...

Striving...

We all strive, towards some end or other. But, do we really know why we strive? Is it towards some self-created ideal or rather is it some outside force which impels us forward? We strive for self-betterment. We strive for approval. We strive for perfection. We strive endlessly. This constant striving, whether mental or actual becomes utterly exhausting, and truthfully self-defeating. Ultimately, I believe we strive for one thing--control. Otherwise, the unknown engulfs. And we would rather be exhausted by the stress and strain of striving then surrender to the pit of the unknown. Perhaps we should take the plunge into that pit and find out...?

I'm tired of striving.