I'm certainly not abolishing the blogging dream, though it may sometimes seem that way. I've had limited computer access these past few days since becoming employed. I'm working on syllabi, classroom rules, and discipline plans. It's so crazy and completely overwhelming to get hired for a position on Thursday, knowing that I am to be in front of the class and ready to go on Tuesday. But it's also pretty exciting. I won't be able to update again until Tuesday afternoon, but I will definitely have three new ones ready to go. In the meantime, a nice little two-parter to keep ya'll going.
Have you ever woken up and taken the time to examine your life? Looked at every little nook and cranny and tried to synthesize the feelings and emotions and actions and inactions? Thought about the front that you've been putting on for the benefit of others and, sometimes, yourself? Have you looked in the mirror in the morning and become confused by what you saw? Or looked past the physical reflection into the deeper recesses of your heart and soul and noticed that they've changed their tint and hue? Have you made the conscious decision to be someone - to be yourself - and then realized, after too much time has passed, that you have failed? Have you had thoughts of regret or pangs of guilt or feelings of apathy and disillusion? I have. Maybe we all have.
Today is the first day of September. I saw some red leaves on the trees this morning during my run. I start my teaching job on Tuesday. The Hogwarts Express is heading back to the castle today. Autumn is in the air. The seasonal change is upon us. I think, then, that it's appropriate to use the transition from summer to fall as an allusion for what's to come in life...but only if we choose it.
It seems like we always talk about being true to ourselves. But what does that mean? Aren't we in charge of all of our own actions? If nobody else is making decisions for us, then every choice we ever make is true to ourselves. Our decision-making is the culmination, typically, of our inner thoughts, whether they be free and easy to understand or fraught with turmoil. Even if we turn off our own minds and react based on instinct, that instinct has evolved from our sense of self in the first place. Of course there are other theories as to the truth of the preceding, but we'll tackle that at a later date. For now, let's operate under the assumption that we alone are in charge of our lives.
So if you are in charge of your life, and I am in charge of mine, how can I ever be unhappy? Shouldn't I always make the decisions that are of most benefit to me? I would never want myself to be unhappy, so my decision-making would reflect that. But that's when things get a little hairy. The differences between short and long-term happiness is the factor that emerges most often when thinking about this. For example, Double-Stuf Oreo's make me exceedingly happy in the short-term, but if I consume too much of them I will pay for it with a tummyache and an expanding waistline. Unfortunately, we often let our visions in the short-term trump the long-term outcomes that are to emerge from them. Other times we let our short-term happiness masquerade as long-term, thereby allowing us to believe that what we are doing is really for the long-term. So while we are in charge of our own actions i.e. eating a container of Oreo's as the pathway to
pure happiness, we can sometimes abandon our long-term goals for short-term successes.
But is it okay to live for the short-term? Society, I believe, has been saying that it is. We are part of an era that emphasizes quick results. With little to no time to fully outline a long-term aim, we become adrift on a sea of the unknown, sailing from port to port with no compass. And since, as we've discussed previously, we are inherently comfort-seeking, we will latch on to that which provides a sense of comfort and fulfills our short-term happiness quota. This sort of situation is not something that we are always consciously aware of; rather it happens when we least expect it, when we are at our most vulnerable. With vulnerability comes malleability, sometimes to the point that our fundamental sense of self has become irrevocably altered.
This is when we need to stop and observe.
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