Being "right"

I have finally come to terms with the fact that I need to be more honest with myself. Furthermore, I need to be honest with myself about myself. For as long as I can remember, I've always tried to veer towards a path of right thought and action. No, it wasn't in any sort of attempt to be Buddhist, but it did make sense. It was so basic. Try to find the right way to think and the right way to ask.

However, I found out that I was doing neither.

Recently, I've begun to examine what I construe to be "right" thought and action. I had made a simple -and highly erroneus- assumption that "right" was a constant. There was a baseline that would dictate the course of my path and I couldn't deviate from it. Of course, I am now realizing that "baseline" is very fluid and there's not any one particular way to go about things. What's "right" will change with a given situation. And therein was my failure. Instead of being this model of "righteousness," I began to realize that I was an unyeilding object in life. In as much as I considered myself to be this marvelously understanding and peaceful person, I realized that the exact opposite was the truth. And that began to bother me. Suddenly I began to realize that I was absolutely inflexible. If anything deviated from a prescribed path in my head, suddenly everything was at odds and I had to scramble in order to "adapt" (as was my favorite word to describe what I was doing, since "going apeshit" seemed a bit crude). One day I was able to take a step back from a situation, see my reaction, and realize I had become the exact opposite of what I was seeking and that horrible disturbed me.

So I had to think of something. I had to adapt. Not just to the situation, but to a whole new ideology. I had to rethink what I thought and figure out the weakest points in it all. That wasn't an easy process because I kept looking past the simplicity that was directly in front of me. I kept thinking "this has to be more complicated." I'm not sure why, but I did. Somehow I had absolutely convinced myself that absolute complexity was the only sign of progress. I'm still not sure where I picked up this convention. Somehow it just came into me and I latched on to it and utterly refused to let it go. I wasn't entirely certain of how I was going to overcome this. But then, the water came.

So many viewpoints on the nature of a peaceful life tended to revolve around water. Or so I noticed. It seemed like the Buddhists used the idea of water on a near-constant basis to describe the "flow" of life (see?). Or the "flow" of chi (pattern here, notice it?). Since Buddhism is something like a few thousand years old, I figured that there just might be something to this after all. So, in college (and where else would this happen?) I began to look into philosophies. Trying to understand the underlying values and concepts of a certain way of thought. I began to notice that water was universal in most philosophies. Terms like "flow" popped up often. Or "tide" or the plural "tides." Water is often regarded with respect to ceremonies of cleansing (washing in general, baptisms, cleaning before entering mosque, etc). Of course, there was also science, what with water being a universal solvent (it might take time, but it breaks down everything). So I began to revisit what I felt was my idea of "right" anything. And then it all made total sense.

Water flows and so must I. When water needs to be loose, it is. It flows around an object, but it also works to reduce that object. When an object can't be passed, water becomes rigid, it forces against the object that interrupts its flow. Once the flow is achieved, water goes back to being fluid. Of course, I needed to be the same. I needed to learn how to be flexible and that meant learning that "right" tends to change.

And that leads me to this blog.

I've always loved to write. I spent tons of time in high school writing for the school paper. I've blogged elsewhere before, but they always had this half-hearted sensibility to them. It was just me noodling around on a keyboard. Granted, it was nice... but it felt lacking; it felt like I was taking things serious enough. It didn't matter at first, but there was still this undercurrent that said I should do it more seriously. Of course, in my idea of what was "right," I never considered myself a writer. I can't exactly explain why I felt this way, but I did feel this way. So eventually I meet someone who actually goes out of their way to compliment me on my writing and to talk about how much she enjoys reading what I put out there. Funny enough, given that I tend to assign nicknames to people important to me, hers was The Librarian, but for an entirely unrelated (yet humorous) reason. Suddenly I began to realize that the "right" thing at this point was to start taking this seriously. To actually go "you know, maybe I can give this a go and actually get paid for it." At the very least, it will be an opportunity for me to live up to what many have said is my potential.

And no matter who you are, that's alright. :)

Welcome aboard. Let's see what's out there...