04-12-2013, 10:10 PM
I suppose endless discussion could be had on the "being vs. doing" conundrum. On one hand, I can't imagine a complete lack of discipline and focus leading to anything but stagnation. The lack of movement and progress due to complacency is supposedly why free will was granted in the first place. On the other hand, stifling any portion of the self in an attempt to "be something better" does not seem to be a productive way to do, well...anything positive. The free expression of the self and the crystallization of the will continually interplay with one another, and finding the balance is a real adventure to say the least.
Based on what I've learned so far, I think the most appropriate course of action is to constantly be aware of the motives behind one's desires and behaviors, continually discerning which thoughts and actions are aligned with one's highest ideal, and shedding old habits and thought patterns as they outgrow their use. The problem seems to come not with the act of change itself (I don't think it's even possible to perpetually stay the same), but in the guilt felt over past behaviors, coupled with a present sense of inadequacy, as if the current self just isn't good enough. We look toward some imagined "perfect" future self we want to become instead of embracing all the opportunity we face in this exact moment of our existence.
Errors are, in fact, worth rejoicing over, because they reflect opportunities to grow and mature that may have gone unnoticed otherwise, yet so often my pride causes me to become consumed with shame every time I fail to live up to my own unreasonably high standards, and I find myself wallowing instead of applying what I've learned. I think this is one of the most important facets of self acceptance- accepting the self even in the realization that an error has been made, and that a change of behavior is necessary. Accepting the parts that are flawed and distorted and cloaked in shadow is the key in repairing the cracks and smoothing the distortion.
So basically, the song gradually changes, and perhaps gets smoother and more complex as the sonata progresses, yet the notes at the beginning of the song aren't seen as worthless just because they aren't the same notes at the end. It's all music, and with the right ears, it's all beautiful. I want those ears.
I'm still having trouble getting out what I really want to say. It feels like for the first time in ages I can stand here as myself, and be aware of myself, and instead of trying to add new things onto that self, I can just let more and more of what was always inside shine through. I can look at the future and see not a far-distant goal of perfection, but a path that glows beautifully all the way upward; a path I can't wait to enjoy every step of, recording every moment in my spiritual sketch book as the beautiful, crystallized thing it is. The joy is in walking the path, and finally the path doesn't seem like a burden, but a wonder. A dozen gateways just opened in front of me because I'm finally ready to let go of my security blanket, and I actually *want* to walk through them.
Based on what I've learned so far, I think the most appropriate course of action is to constantly be aware of the motives behind one's desires and behaviors, continually discerning which thoughts and actions are aligned with one's highest ideal, and shedding old habits and thought patterns as they outgrow their use. The problem seems to come not with the act of change itself (I don't think it's even possible to perpetually stay the same), but in the guilt felt over past behaviors, coupled with a present sense of inadequacy, as if the current self just isn't good enough. We look toward some imagined "perfect" future self we want to become instead of embracing all the opportunity we face in this exact moment of our existence.
Errors are, in fact, worth rejoicing over, because they reflect opportunities to grow and mature that may have gone unnoticed otherwise, yet so often my pride causes me to become consumed with shame every time I fail to live up to my own unreasonably high standards, and I find myself wallowing instead of applying what I've learned. I think this is one of the most important facets of self acceptance- accepting the self even in the realization that an error has been made, and that a change of behavior is necessary. Accepting the parts that are flawed and distorted and cloaked in shadow is the key in repairing the cracks and smoothing the distortion.
So basically, the song gradually changes, and perhaps gets smoother and more complex as the sonata progresses, yet the notes at the beginning of the song aren't seen as worthless just because they aren't the same notes at the end. It's all music, and with the right ears, it's all beautiful. I want those ears.
I'm still having trouble getting out what I really want to say. It feels like for the first time in ages I can stand here as myself, and be aware of myself, and instead of trying to add new things onto that self, I can just let more and more of what was always inside shine through. I can look at the future and see not a far-distant goal of perfection, but a path that glows beautifully all the way upward; a path I can't wait to enjoy every step of, recording every moment in my spiritual sketch book as the beautiful, crystallized thing it is. The joy is in walking the path, and finally the path doesn't seem like a burden, but a wonder. A dozen gateways just opened in front of me because I'm finally ready to let go of my security blanket, and I actually *want* to walk through them.
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