Existential A-Musings

The following article spoke volumes to the still-developing, angsty, postgrad-limbo-trodding pollyanna in me:

"It's Not About You" by David Brooks (NY Times Op-Ed Column)

While he misses the mark on a few points and makes a few overly sweeping generalizations, I couldn't agree more with his prescription for self-effacement. In other words: Screw the narcissism. Throw out the platitudes. Give me grit and give someone else the glory.

I wanted to write a response on how I feel and what this means for my own personal struggle(s) with my choices regarding the future, but I stumbled across this passage a few nights ago and I don't think I could explain a part of it as well as Kierkegaard does:

"Our early youth is like a flower at dawn with a lovely dewdrop in its cup, harmoniously and pensively reflecting everything that surrounds it. But as soon the sun rises over the horizon, and the dewdrop evaporates; with it vanish the fantasies of life, and now it becomes a question...whether or not a person is able to produce--by his own efforts as does the oleander--a drop that may represent the fruit of his life. This requires, above all, that one be allowed to grow in the soil where one really belongs, but that is not always so easy to find. In this respect there exist fortunate creatures who have such a decided inclination in a particular direction that they faithfully follow the path once it is laid out for them without ever falling prey to the thought that perhaps they ought to have followed an entirely different path. There are others who let themselves be influenced so completely by their surroundings that it never becomes clear to them in what direction they are really striving. Just as the former group has its own implicit categorical imperative, so the latter recognizes an explicit categorical imperative. But how few there are in the former group, and to the latter I do not wish to belong. Those who get to experience the real meaning of Hegelian dialectics in their lives are greater in number. Incidentally, it is altogether natural for wine to ferment before it becomes clear; nevertheless this process is often disagreeable in its several stages, although regarded in its totality it is of course agreeable, provided it does in the end yield its relative results in the context of the usual doubt. This is of major significance for anybody who has come to terms with his destiny by means of it, not only because of the calm that follows in contrast to the preceding storm, but because one then has life in a quite different sense than before."(taken from one of Kierkegaard's early journal entries, found in The Essential Kierkegaard)

And just like that, I realize I've already decided. I want to have life.

Open Letter to My Future Kidlet(s)

Dear Spawn,

If you're reading this, yay! It means you've made it in one piece to this developmental stage. I didn't drop you on your head, accidentally poison you, or sell you to the boogeyman...at least not yet. 

I'm writing this to you as a 23-year old overgrown child who has long been wrestling with the concept of parenting. No offense, but I never really liked or wanted kids. But just in case some powerful otherworldly force possesses me to carry a zygote (or two...or three) to term, I feel compelled to warn you, my (hopefully adorable) future kidlet(s), about a few very important things. This is my mommy disclaimer. My hope is that it will help you meet all the twists and turns of our relationship and other inescapable courses of parent-child fate with the open mind and open heart you'll need if you want to stay sane. Especially if you're anything like me....which to some degree you will be. 

Without a doubt, at times...

• I will hurt you. And disappoint you. When I drop the ball on you, you will feel jaded, lonely, or forlorn (or all three).
• I will be terrible at expressing my unconditional love and affection for you -- sometimes when you need it most. 
• I will use and abuse the "I'm the adult" card and forget to listen. 
• I will make you wonder if you're really living for yourself or if you're just living for me. 
• I will underestimate you. I will overestimate you....all the while missing the point to stop estimating you at all and instead smother you with love and awe.
• I will make you cry - in front of me, behind my back, and maybe even in public. Even worse, I will berate you for crying, when I should be hugging you tight.
• I will forget how young you are. I will forget how old you are.
• I will have unreasonable expectations of you, and will thus douse you with a slew of unwarranted social comparisons.
• I will embarrass you.
• I will never be good enough, yet I will sometimes treat you like you're the one who will never be good enough.
• I will contradict myself. Better yet, I may not even make any sense. 
• I will give you a hard time for not being independent, but at the same time I will not want to let go.
• I will be retributive with my anger towards your mistakes, instead of purposive.
• I will clamor to shower you with gifts when I feel especially guilty (probably about something on this list). 
• I will be so busy making sure your tummy is fed that I will forget to ensure that your soul is being nourished.
• I will, one day, stop being the all-knowing adult figure you needed. You will realize I am no longer leading the way -- we are now walking alongside each other.
• I will never quench your thirst for mothering (maybe even fathering, if you're especially unlucky).

With that said, it only logically follows that:

Anything good I do, anything I get right...will have been orchestrated by the pure grace and mercy of a God. 

I refuse to take credit for it. Because I am not a perfect person, nor will I ever be. Though I will undoubtedly be bursting at the seams with love and good intentions for you, it doesn't erase the fact that I am a broken human being. We all are. I will try my very best to give you an amazing life and help you soar. But please don't ever for a second fall into the trap of idealistic modern family constructs and think that I will be the perfect provider. More importantly, don't ever fall into the trap of thinking that you yourself could be perfect. And I say this with the wisdom of experience: God is the only perfect mother and father, so lean on Him. I will help you, because it's what I do also. And just like that, in imperfect harmony, I hope we can go forth creating beautiful, fruitful, and meaningful lives.

So yea. Perchance I make the bold/senseless/irreversible decision to have kids, this is what I'd want you to know.

With love,
Your crazy mom

p.s. I really hope I got to have my way and that your name is Soren. Or Egypt. Or Emery. Or Cyan. Or Krav. If not, please look away as I go strangle your father for taking away my lifelong dream.

p.p.s. Seriously, make your bed.

요이땅!

몸이 망가질 직정 ㅠㅠ 한달째 지독한 감기를 앓고있음. 으읔.

그래도 기죽지않고 죽도록 열심히 사는 내 모습...숨통이 트인듯한 이 색다른 느낌...참 반갑다. 애매한 골치 덩어리들은  깨긋히 아웃시킨 후 쉴세 없이 빛을 향해 달리다보니...나도 모르게 오래간만에 다시 환히 웃을 수 있게됐다. 뿌듯하다. 

언뜻 보면 무조건 바쁘게 지낸다는건 좋지 않지만 이렇게 여러가지 활동으로 인해  많은걸 배우고  써클을 넓히고있으니...성장하고 있는게 틀림없다. 또다시 주저앉는 날도 물론 오겠지. 근데 생전 처음으로 내 행복을 위해 진심으로 응원해주는 사람들과 어울리니 힘이 생긴다.  이런거구나...늦었지만 너무나 필요했던 깨닳음. 새로운 경험들, 설레는 내 가슴. 맘에 쏙 들어.  

빨리 낳고  계속 달려야지. 

The Lady or the Tiger

Everything I hated about myself in the past, I'm having to learn how to love. If there's anything that the past few years have taught me, it's that I'd rather tackle the rest of my life from a place of self-love than of self-abhorrence. But that doesn't make it any less terrifying. I guess in a sense I am a creature of habit...and that's why?

My dizzying compulsion to over-empathize and to make squalid attempts at mastering a God-like omniscience of all things under the sun; beating myself up for not understanding why I deserved the bad things (at some times) or the good things (at others); allowing destructive, verbally abusive people to hijack my inner monologue one too many times; playing frenzied versions of the blame game (attributing my blunders to the failings of others vs. punishing myself too harshly for the failings of others); this mountain of guilt and unworthiness that I'm particularly wired to feel as someone who is just as much a product of privilege as she is a product of dearth -- which drives everything that I do and manifests at times like a twisted penchant for pain...none of this gets me anywhere. Somehow I have to redirect all this energy towards a more self-soothing endeavor.

Soren Kierkegaard, a bona fide Danish stud muffin, said that life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. So, yea, I can connect the dots of my past to groom myself to be my present and future utmost. But to a certain extent and that's it. I can't try to connect the dots of my future because I will never understand everything -- nor will I be able to control the journey or the outcome as much as I'd like to. And I'm gradually accepting this because I'm realizing that the more I yearn to, the less I give myself the wiggle room I need to live faithfully and fearlessly.

Photophilia

Everything of this world loses its luster. Places, possessions...even people. As humans we were uniquely gifted (burdened?) with the cognitive ability to know better, yet we are the first to squander any and all traces of brilliance on earthly escapades. "We" including me.

Lately, too many things have been losing their luster. 

The problem is, we have lives to live out during the remainder of our stint here. And we're restless light-seeking creatures by nature, like moths to a flame.  Scrambling from one illusively shiny thing to the next will only exhaust us and take us for a ride (or two, or three...or 586,237).  How do I deal with the fact that everything in this world will lose its luster?

Perhaps...if I redirect my energy towards polishing and re-polishing myself from the inside out -- rather than from the outside in, and teach myself to stop scrambling, I can start to chase a true brilliance bright enough to sustain me until I get to bask in the eternal afterglow...

Just a tiny perhaps.