Letting Go of Consistency

“The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our past act or word, because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint them.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson

As much as I claim that I am living my life on my own terms, I find that I’m often pondering how an action will fit in with how I’ve acted in the past. Or I think about something that I once did, and think, is that really me? Or someone says, “Wow, I’m surprised that you would do that!” Well, that can be unsettling. When people express surprise or concern because I’m making a decision that does not fit in with their perception of how I usually am, it feels like I’m letting them down in some way. But when I think about it, what does it matter what other people think?

It’s like the quote I posted the other day about not worrying about what other people think about your abilities, because all that matters is that you are making the effort to improve yourself. Recently, I’ve been worrying a whole lot less about the way other people are and how I could be and much more about DOING things. Consuming things and pondering how things could be better means nothing. Wondering if I should do this or that doesn’t help. The only thing that does help is actually going out and doing it.

I’m computing my own orbit, to borrow words from Emerson. I’m not here to make other people feel comfortable that they “know” me. I don’t know myself, how can anybody “know” me? Sure, I can let them into my life, and as Rilke so wisely said, “Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again;” I don’t have to alarm people, but I also don’t have to cater to them. Perhaps that will ruffle some people’s feathers, but isn’t that better than being boring?

Point Reyes, CA
Point Reyes, CA

On Emotional Breakdowns

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing, and becomes nothing. He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow or love. Chained by his certitude, he is a slave; he has forfeited his freedom. Only the person who risks is truly free.
-Leo Buscaglia

All of my “suffering” is self-inflicted. I’m striving to be better, but when I’m unsatisfied with my progress, I get frustrated. My default is to compare myself to others, which does not serve me because I will always fall short.

I’m robbing myself by not loving my life. I’m robbing myself every moment I fret. If I’m upset, which will happen, I can’t stop it, I must make a point to write. Sometimes I don’t feel like moving. It’s the sensation that I don’t want to try anymore.

I had a revelation (enlightenment) during yoga on Monday that I care so much about what people think, and it’s crippling. Only recently have I been getting over it, but I take out my frustration with this on people I love. They become the target of my unhappiness with feeling constrained by what is expected by society, family, etc. The ridiculous thing is that none of those things actually restrain me. I’m a privileged upper-middle class woman who has everything I could ever need and much much more. I had a fantastic childhood, and I am, for all intensive purposes, in great health. I can dance, I can draw, I can write, I can express myself out loud. I take criticism well. What is holding me back? It’s like in yoga…I need to notice my limits and not freak out about them, but know where they are and explore EXPLORE why those limits are there.

Think—what are the times when I’ve been the happiest? When I was enjoying the present and spreading joy, not expecting anything based on the past and not projecting myself into the future at the expense of living in the moment.

I don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations. I need to be enough for me.

What has stopped me in the past? Fear. I’m scared of being vulnerable and pathetic. But then I get upset when I feel that way. It’s okay to feel. In fact, it’s desirable. I just need to know that they are merely emotions, and emotions do not dictate my life.

P.S. I highly recommend reading the book Living, Loving, and Learning. It’s a collection of Dr. Leo Buscaglia’s fantastic lectures about the power of choosing our own lives and living life out of joy and love. This book, along with the Landmark Forum curriculum, has been significantly shaping the way I mindfully approach my life.

Mis Tres Vidas

My Three Lives.

I’ve never thought about my identity like this before. I just read Jhumpa Lahiri’s article entitled “My Two Lives,” which was published in Newsweek on March 6, 2006. She writes about the difficulties she had growing up as she tried to reconcile her parents’ Indian traditions with her American culture school day reality. Lahiri describes the embarrassment she felt regarding the unique food and music she consumed at home, and her unwillingness to speak to her friends about her parents’ customs.

Most kids are embarrassed by their parents at some point. My parents both have accents, and they’re two very different accents at that. I was teased in school for saying “bean” instead of “bin” when I read the word “been” aloud in first grade during our verb exercises. I was so compelled to fit in that I decided I had to change my natural pronunciation of the word so that now I’m trained to say “bin.” Now that I’m a young adult, I’ve noticed that my half-brother has maintained the “bean” pronunciation, and it makes me jealous! It makes him sound refined and self-assured due to the pronunciation’s British undertones. My colloquial speech has retained little of that class. My Britishness only emerges every once in a while via a “fancy” word or phrase I’ll unconsciously throw in here and there, much to the delight of my friends.

If Lahiri struggled with two identities, I had the extra conflict dealing with three. Not only are my parents immigrants from two radically different cultures, but I am also a second-generation American acculturating into the US lifestyle. Lahiri’s comment that her “conflicting selves [were] always canceling each other out” struck me as only a personally relevant phrase does. Here is written proof that other people go through the same thing I have gone through all of my life. Appearing and sounding American, appreciating British humor and work ethic, and soaking up Latin music and dancing never really happen all at the same time. I’m always recoding my cultural language, depending on who I’m with and which “me” I identify the most with on a particular day or at a particular hour. However as confusing as this can be, I agree with Lahiri again when she writes, “As an adult I accept that a bicultural upbringing is a rich but imperfect thing.” I may not fit into any easy cultural category, but that’s just the way I like it.