Warning: Pessimistic Post Ahead

I think one of the hardest things in the world is having faith in yourself when you have no proof you should. It’s finding reason when there is none. I’m finding out that I don’t really love my first job out of college. Actually, I’m not sure I’m very good at what I’m doing now. But I can’t really tell if that’s because I’m not engaged, or I just suck. A part of me wants to be kind to myself…maybe I just haven’t found my calling yet, and maybe once I do I’ll end up doing really well. The other part of me fears that the answer is that I’m genuinely untalented and will be mediocre at everything I do.

I’ve sort of hit rock bottom in my life. A few months ago my entire life turned upside down. My first somewhat of a relationship broke before I had the chance to save it. I ended up doing a really crappy project. While in words neither of those things sound particularly painful, I can’t begin to describe how painful those things really are.

I love Boston, but memories of us find their way to my consciousness around every corner of this now tainted city. Whether it’s a building or a street we once walked on while holding hands, one way or another he finds his way to my mind. I’d stay at home, but even this bed sometimes reminds me of us. The strange thing is, I can’t say I was completely happy with the way we were. While our break up was almost obvious, and maybe the right thing to have happened, it doesn’t make me feel much better about it, nor does it hurt any less. It’s weird how he got to hurt me and walk away unscathed, meanwhile I sit here and wonder if I’ll ever get over this and what the hell is wrong with me. I tell myself things happen for the best, but that fear lingers in me…what if things just happen for the worst. While I’d love to move on from him and forget that I met someone who fit everything I ever wanted in a man (well, minus the whole “in love with me” deal – probably the most important one?), a part of me is just stuck. For the most part I ignore my feelings, but in those instances I choose to feel, it’s a sharp pain in my gut I can’t handle for a prolonged period of time. I was cast aside like I was worth nothing by a guy who I got along with to a whole new level. Sure, wounds heal to leave scars. But sometimes you suffer permanent damages. In my case, the part of me that had hope is gone. It’s replaced by this jaded part of me that I don’t have the willpower to fight with.

While I deal with that sense of loss, I’m utterly demotivated at work. I drive 3-4 hours a day just to get to my client site, and I’m doing work I have zero interest in. But I’m so tired, I can’t even feel how tired I am. I’m starting to think about my career, and I’m realizing how lost I am. I’m in a position that is considered prestigious by some, and that is making it harder for me to get up and leave. How can I leave this safety net? But then I ask how I could possibly stay when I know something isn’t right. And if I want to leave, the time is now. There’s an island I’m on and there’s an island I want to get to – but I feel like I’m going to miss the ship making that trip.

And so over the past few months, I’ve somehow managed to stumble my way to rock bottom. All I have is a heart broken by someone who may not have deserved it, and a spirit trying its best to stay alive. And there is nothing I can do except let myself go through this. Perhaps there are times in life when the only way to save yourself is to let yourself be. It’s when you keep going even though you’re tired, you’re scared, you’re hurt, you’re lost, you’re hopeless…it’s walking through the storm, no matter the damage, and hoping that one day you’ll come out of the darkness and see the dawn.

But I don’t know. This is all just speculation. It’s things I tell myself to keep crawling.

Burn, baby burn

One way or another, I’ve managed to survive more than a year out of college. I’ve changed a lot. This job has been challenging in interesting ways, and I’ve learned a lot in strange ways. Slowly, but surely, I’m stripping my “I’m only a kid” outlook on life, and stepping up to live like an adult.

It’s weird, but I used to look to nature to understand my life. However, adult problems are often so complicated that even nature is starting to fail me. I consider myself to be a spiritual person, but my spirit no longer has answers for me. My gut, which once had strong opinions on how it felt about things, has started to grapple with the idea of “I don’t know.” Out here, in this wild world, what is isn’t, what you see doesn’t always exist, and what you feel is fleeting. As my life is in state of utter chaos – from a job I’m trying to tame, to a test I’m trying to annihilate, to a guy I can’t quite catch – I’m starting to ask myself if there is anything I can hold onto anymore with pure trust that it won’t falter.

My strong opinions on things have pretty much been obliterated thanks to what life has done to me in the past year, which I guess has knocked out a bit of that young arrogance in me. All that would be fine, and for the most part is it, if it didn’t involve a bit of a heartbreak and a few lessons about love. I suppose love was something I never should have had a strong opinion on in the first place. Because now that I have met someone I have connected with and have experienced losing them for no apparent reason – I’m starting to realize that no matter how hard you try or no matter how deeply or sincerely you feel – it doesn’t always make a difference. My gut is utterly shot. It always knew when something was wrong, and it was always right. I might not have listened to it and paid my price. But for the first time in my life, my gut has completely failed me. I listened to it like I should have. And while for a brief moment it was wonderful and unlike anything I had ever experienced (though it wasn’t love), I crashed hard at the end.

And now I’m sitting with pieces of me all around, confused as to where to start building again. Sure, the pragmatic me knows what to do. Move on. Start building somewhere. There are plenty of other men for me out there. I know. Life goes on. Just one guy. Will find another one. If X happens he wasn’t the right one. I’ll find the right one eventually – the better option, the one that destiny has reserved for me. Yes, yes, I know how it all goes. Men are like trains, you miss one you catch the next one. There are plenty of fish in the sea. But you can only play those speeches in your head so many times before you realize that for once you don’t want the next option – you don’t even care. You don’t want to catch the next train. You don’t want to find another fish. It was never that I needed to know where we were going (hell, I didn’t even know where I wanted to go). It was that I never thought we were heading nowhere.

I suppose the heartbreaking thing about all this is knowing I have to get over it, and with time I eventually will. The wound will eventually stop bleeding, a scar will form, and one day I’ll forget the scar exists. But the idea that something touched you to the core (or got damn close to it), and you have to force yourself to forget it as if sloughing memories of it off like dead skin cells…it’s just sad.

I’d admonish myself for feeling the way I do, and letting someone get to me the way he did. But I don’t think I’m in the state to hear about what I should or shouldn’t be doing/feeling. It is what is it, he did what he had to do, and I feel what I need to feel.

And so life goes. And for the first time, nature has no answers for my questions.

The bite.

Before I moved to Boston, I remember writing on here about how being an explorer meant that you had to travel alone sometimes. It’s not that you don’t have friends or family who care about you, but rather you’re just not with them for one reason or another.

In these past several months of being in a city where I know no one, I really understood the concept of being “alone.” But perhaps more important than that, I understood the concept of being lonely. Real, and raw loneliness. This was especially apparent every night when I went to bed. Nights are the worst when you’re alone (in a city, or in the woods!).

In the day, you go out and can at least see people. You can fool yourself into thinking that you’re not completely alone. But then night hits, and truth has no where to hide. As you look at the empty room you’re in, you know there’s no one out there thinking about you this very moment. And sure, you have a good book to keep you company. Sure, you get by, even though you’re alone. You’ve done the whole loving yourself, you’ve found peace and then what…?

Loneliness is a heartless thief. It robs you of your happiness when you least expect it. It makes your happiness mean nothing. You sit there with people you love, knowing you’re looking for someone else. You do fun activities, but still feel like you’re missing out on something. You laugh because it’s been said that it drives the devil away, but it somehow reminds you of its existence even more. You’re surrounded by people, you don’t have the luxury of being bored, and yet…there’s just nothing. Just like a rock you keep pushing on, thinking that at least now you’re too hard to feel pain. And maybe that absence of pain means you’re happy. And since you’re happy, when people ask your how you are you respond, without questioning it for a second, “wonderful.” You drown in your thoughts, but know that the only way to breathe is to stop thinking and that isn’t comforting.

The ironic thing is, this is all coming from a person who talks to twenty people a day (well, on weekdays at least), and spends the week thinking she’s surrounded by too many people. It’s an introvert with social skills, who doesn’t lack human contact and isn’t (for the most part) an outcast.

This isn’t depression. This isn’t a burn out. This is loneliness. It’s when you keep living right, but some monster inside of you isn’t satisfied. It twists and turns in you and leaves you so confused because this is what you’re supposed to be doing. You’re supposed to have friends, you’re supposed to have this job, you’re supposed to be working towards these goals of being promoted, and hell, even getting married someday – but all this isn’t leading you anywhere.

I’m not fighting life. But I sometimes think of nature and ask, why me? Why must I be alone? And I think of my future guy and I wonder if he’ll help me become more human than rock.

I’m going. I’m living. But something still feels off.

And the worst part is, I know my other friends feel like this at times. Yet we don’t say anything. What can you say? What can you do? The thing is, life sometimes has its lows. Sometimes you need to go through a strange place before you can go back home. There’s nothing wrong with the strange place you’re in. It’s just not where you belong in the long run. So you keep quiet and still, hoping that by walking you’ll come out of this dark forest and into the sunlight.

You know what frightening thought occurred to me…maybe the reason I never sleep well or enough isn’t to do with my body’s abnormal circadian rhythms. Maybe it’s a side effect of being lonely.

I wander all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,
Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory,
Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.

And maybe Whitman manages to figure me out. As the world around me sleeps peacefully, I am awake, not by choice but by helplessness.

The Real World.

I haven’t written a lot since getting out here. By here, I mean the real world. It seems like yesterday I was in college. Actually, by now I’d be packing my bags to go back. But summer is almost over, and pretty soon I will be experiencing fall in Boston. Apparently it’s gorgeous here in the fall.

You know I have to say, I’m not sure how I feel about Boston. It’s a relatively new place. I did an internship here a couple summers ago. But this time I’m not leaving. This time I have a lease, and I’m staying for a while. I have to say, a month flew by pretty quickly. Somehow it feels like I’ve been here a lot longer. I like Boston. In theory at least. It’s clean, it’s intellectual, it has old historic charm. I mean, what’s not to love. But I’ll be honest and say that it doesn’t feel like home. I don’t really know what makes a home. But I didn’t get that feeling of “ah yes, this is where I belong.” I mean, maybe I do belong here, who knows. But a part of me still asks if New York and I will ever meet again. If so, when? More importantly, if so, why? And if never, then what took its place?

Here’s the deal with the real world: it’s like a  forest. I think this is less relatable for people who are at home near family and friends. I mean, my family lives in suburbia (read: soul-crushing-urbia). My friends are now all over the country after college. So I kinda feel like a tiny and lonely seed in Boston. I’m surrounded by these giant trees that have their roots already. Their roots are deep into the soil and they are stable and solid. Meanwhile, here I am, just a pathetic seed. I get swayed by storms, and blown wherever the hell the wind wants me to go. I see those giant trees and can’t imagine becoming one of them. I mean, I don’t even know where my roots will end up taking place. What if they weren’t meant to dig deep into Boston soil?

It’s hard being that little seed, surrounded by enormous trees. I want to make a place for myself in the real world, but there seems to be no space for me. Everyone is busy, moving on with their lives, meanwhile here I am trying to figure out what life I want and what life I’m even capable of having.

It’s a strange place. I’m a seed that can’t imagine ever surviving to become a tree. Me? Survive all those storms and still grow?  I think I’ll need a miracle.

An Adventurer’s Burden

From: http://stateparkclosurestrip.blogspot.com/2012/06/bothe-napa-valley-state-park-trip-55-of.html

By some miracle, I’ve managed to graduate college. Thanks to the divine force in this world and a bit of hard work, I’ve managed to get a job as well. The next chapter of my life is coming. I can’t really lie and I say I wasn’t looking forward to it. But I wouldn’t be being honest if I said I’m whole-heartedly ready for it to come.

Whole-heartedly. That word is a little foreign to me because I don’t think I’ve ever done anything whole-heartedly. It is not that I never wanted to. It is more that I never quite found something to be whole-heartedly dedicated to without losing interest or realizing I was developing an unhealthy obsession. I hope to change that once I get out there in the real world. I’m back home now, as work doesn’t start for another month. I’ve been home for over a month. It’s been strange actually. Time is slipping through my fingers like sand, and I find myself being bored out of my mind most of the time. A part of me says, YES, LET WORK BEGIN. But another part of me knows that…well…I’m never going to get a break like this again.

It’s strange because most of my friends are actually going to graduate school, so they’re not in for anything new. I feel like I’m one of the few that has decided to move to a new city, start a job in something completely different and unfamiliar, and tread this dangerous road of potentially hating what I do and failing to acclimate to a new environment and then really fucking up my life. All at the age of 21. The funny part is? I’m not a tad bit emotional or scared about what I’m leaving behind. Well, I’m a little nervous, since it’s a new job and whatnot, but I’d be a fool to NOT be nervous about that.

Maybe this will get me in a lot of trouble some day, but I have the heart of a traveler. I’m not afraid of movement. I’m not terrified of change, especially when I know I’m desperately in need of one. I guess I have some faith in this universe. While I’m a little relieved I don’t have an overly emotional head, this boldness of mine comes with a price I don’t yet know if it’s worth it. I often find myself traveling alone. I often have to leave family and friends behind, because like a traveler, I’m going out there to find my calling. The worst part is, I get annoyed when I DO have companions. I get annoyed when people tell me what to do or where to go, especially when they’re not the ones coming with me on the journey. Then it gets worse, because I get annoyed at myself for getting annoyed at everyone else.

I think having companions can be a wonderful thing. It can be extremely helpful as well.

But adventures are gifts. I’d like to think positively and say to myself that yes, I’m hopelessly and utterly lost, but at least I’m still going. Sometimes, gifts aren’t easily shared. I feel the grandness of what is about to unfold when I get out there, even though I don’t entirely know what it is. And that is something I’m not ready to share. Some people are given the luxury of having a strong group of people continuously surrounding them (i.e. friends, lovers, family, etc.). And that is wonderful.

But I’ve realized that at this moment, I’m meant to take this road alone. My friends and family are on other roads, intersecting with mine at times. But that’s not where I belong (not that I have a freakin’ clue as to where I should be at the moment). The heart of an adventurer hears the call of whatever it is we were meant to discover. Some get lucky and find people that have a similar calling. Some, like me, need to do this alone. The ironic thing is, I don’t think I’ll ever BE alone. Paths to success are more complicated than that. There will always be someone you bump along on this road who will give you a hint, or help you, but the long road to wherever your destination was meant only for you. People will come and go from that road (because they will find their own), but you can’t stray. I don’t know much about this world, but maybe this is why people end up unhappy. We don’t follow our paths out of fear of loneliness. So we end up following someone else’s because it is known and there someone else there.

And maybe this is how I view this world now. It’s like a hiking trail. The first several years of life, your parents are there, but then you have to find your own way. Friend come and go. Some stay close by, following their paths that are parallel but different from yours. And along the way, while discovering the beauty of following your heart, you may bump into someone else who has also followed his or her own heart that has eventually lead them to you.

Yeah, the road gets lonely. It gets terrifying when it’s dark. But you can’t stop. You just can’t. Passion had two sides to it. One side gives us pleasure, like when we’re in love with someone. The other side is a pain in the ass. It’s that longing and pain we feel when we’re trying to strive for something, but feel like it’s about to slip away. But regardless of which side we feel, we need to keep following it.

I might look back to this post one day, probably when I’m annoyed at my work or some situation in life, and read this and think, “jeez, look at me trying to be wise. Forget making the journey meaningful. I want the end dammit!” But I guess I have to keep in mind that although I’m entitled to feel shitty, I need to have faith.

I wasn’t built to stay in one place for the rest of my life. I mean, I could. But where’s the fun in that. Blessing or curse, I am who I am, and that is just something me and the rest of the world will have to deal with.

Daughters.

Dear Mothers,

Today is your day. And I thank you for the amazing people you are. You love unconditionally, and stay up all night to soothe irrational fears. As a young woman (who can’t even figure out what she wants for breakfast tomorrow), I don’t really know what it must be like to be a mother. But I always see women freak out about being good mothers. Between buying organic cotton onesies and organic baby food and luxury diapers (I’m sure they exist – probably made out of some ridiculously absorbent organic material?), I wonder how their brains handle it all. 

I do know what is important to a child, especially a daughter. Because a daughter is all I know how to be.

As a daughter I know is that when your mom calls you beautiful, you feel like at least one person in the world is there to appreciate the way you look. She’s seen you at every point of your life, and she knows that no matter how many pimples you get or how much weight you gain, you are still a part of her and will never cease to be beautiful.

As a daughter I know that when your mom supports you in your dreams, the fight becomes significantly easier.

As a daughter I know when your mom understands why you’re crying over a guy, it’s like even though you still think it sucks, you have hope it’ll somehow get better.

As a daughter I know that when your mom lets you cry on her shoulders without any embarrassment, tears stop sooner.

As a daughter I know that when your mom lets you make a mess on the carpet when painting or coloring as a child, she really loves you.

As a daughter I know that when a mom is patient with your confusion and insecurities, you become less afraid to get lost.

As a daughter I know that when a mom realizes when to leave you alone, you realize how strong she made you so that you can pick yourself back up. 

And so to all you mothers who are patient, trusting and loving towards your daughters, thank you. Daughters aren’t easy to raise. We’re a mess of emotions, we sometimes get confused, and sometimes, we’re just downright being stupid. But you stick it through with us, and that’s more than we can as for.

Unbearable Lightless

I’m a shy person for the most part. But I find myself in situations where I talk to strangers quite often. Whether it is while waiting for a train or bus, or on the line for something, I sometimes share a joke or a story with someone I don’t know. Hell, sometimes, I never actually meet them. When I was in high school, I used to go on last.fm a lot. I remember I’d discover some stranger’s music profile, and somehow I would end up liking their music. And it was this way I discovered (and fell in love with) music I never thought I’d like.

I’m thankful for these strangers. Music is a huge part of my life, and I love telling stories. And it was these strangers who told me stories and helped me define myself through new music. A part of me wishes I could get to know them. I know people come into our lives to play their part, whether it is for forever or a few moments. But I guess I’m just silly and wonder why I can’t get to know them more. What if I’m losing a chance to discover a best friend? 

Strangers have helped shape my life. Sometimes, I think they deserve a larger part of it. But they’re strangers aren’t they? They have their own intricate lives, far from my own. I wish they’d stay so they can help me discover more about myself. Maybe there’s a band out there I’ve never heard of but I’m just waiting to fall in love with. Maybe there’s a movie out there I’d never give a chance until someone I don’t know pushes me to watch it. 

We touch lives by just existing. And that is an idea that is both terrifying and beautiful to accept. 

Midair

I’ve found a very good story to describe my life (and job searching) at the moment:

I’m running on a bridge. It’s raining all around me, and the wind is slapping my face with bullets of water. It’s slowing me down, and I’m pushing every cell in my body to keep going. Here’s the catch: it’s not an ordinary bridge. It’s a drawbridge. And it’s moving. It’s collapsing upwards. And I need to make it to the other side. 

And I’m running, and I know I’m close enough that I can’t stop. I’m running on the bridge as it is collapsing. And right now, I’m at the point where I leap off from the side. My foot has left the cement. 

If I make it to the other side (i.e. make it to where I need/want to go), it means I keep running to where I need to go. It means I have a chance to go on and move on.

If I jump and fall…then I’m going to dive into the water (i.e. not get what I need/want). But it won’t be the end of the world. Because I can swim. I can swim to shore and figure life out from there. I can’t go to the other side though. Because that part of the water has sharks. And they won’t let me get through unless it’s through the bridge.

And…well…yeah. I’m midair right now, awaiting my fate. Hoping physics is on my side and helps me get to the other side. The view from up here is not terribly comforting. 

 

The Blues.

I’m a huge fan of HIMYM. Recently, I heard a theory on how The Mother is actually dead at the end of the series. There are plenty of articles out there with decent proof that it’s true. Obviously we won’t know until the very end, but hearing this heartbreaking potential ending moved me. It moved me to the point that I’m writing instead of doing work to graduate from my last semester of college.

When I was on the bus today, I thought of my late grandmother. She died last year, and despite being slightly estranged from her for the past few years, she still pops into my head at times. To be honest, I thought of her because of the shuttle driver today. He’s old, and  he was chewing something in his mouth (almost grinding his teeth), just like my grandmother used to. I’ve been taking his shuttle for the past year, and I realized today that I know nothing about him. I know he’s sometimes a little belligerent. For the most part he’s patient and warm with us college kids though. He wears an army patterned hat. He’s married since he wears a ring. And today I looked at him and wondered who he really was. Was was his life like? Was he in the army? Does he have a family (beyond his wife)? How did he end up with this job? And seeing him reminded me of my grandmother…a woman I barely knew, but I now wish I did. And a creeping thought popped into my head. It was of my mother. She’s someone I never thought about losing. She drives me insane, but I realized that I would miss her a hundreds times more than I miss my grandmother.

I don’t mean to talk about depressing deaths right now. But when I heard the HIMYM theory (which I hope is untrue), I…couldn’t help but to think of the people I know now, and the choices I’m about to make for my future.

Sometimes I think I should settle down in San Francisco, or London. Places far far from home that sound really enticing. And then I think of all the people I’ll never see. My parents. My friends.

At the end of it all…what is this life for? If I get diagnosed with cancer tomorrow…or 50 years from now…what unit will I use to measure my life? And today I realized that the things I’m worry about now…I wouldn’t give a fuck about them if I was dying tomorrow.

I won’t care about that bad grade I got in school. I won’t care about where my degree is from. I won’t care about Latin Honors. I won’t care about standardized test scores. I won’t care about all the jobs that rejected me. All these crises I’m having are important to me. But even I know that life is so much more than all the shit I waste my energy on. I think this is partly why I decided to not pursue medical school. I realized that I spent so much time worrying about insignificant details, that I was valuing life less and less as time went along.

And when you’re given something so fragile such as life, that is unacceptable. We’re going to lose people to the truth known as death. Eventually, we will lose ourselves to that truth.

I’m only 21-years-old. I know my end lies with the dirt on this Earth. I will end up back where I came from. Today I want to make my death wish. I don’t care what happens to me in my life. Don’t get my dream job, don’t live in my dream city, never be able to afford Whole Foods (yes that is a tragedy in my humble opinion)…fine, whatever. All I want from life is to just know what it feels like to be madly and passionately in love with something. I want to experience love in however many forms it exists in.

As sad as this might sound, I’ve never been passionately in love with anything. Sometimes I felt something I thought was passion, but it melted away. Maybe it’s my fault, because I admit I didn’t work hard in keeping some of those things up. I know passion can’t last. It’s a great beginning, but it will never sustain you until the end.

I don’t know much about this world. I still say I’m just a kid. But I feel…I truly feel…that love is what sustains this world sometimes. If there is a God, maybe it’s love. Because it was the love of one’s work that gave us visionaries that shaped this world. It was love that inspired Martin Luther King, it was love that sustained Gandhi, and it was love that built this country. It was love that nourished the human race for 200,000 years lead from a few to the 6 billion people we have today.

The love of work. The love of a lover. The love of a child. The love of art. The love of music. The love of Nature.

Every particle in this universe has been working through that word.

And honestly, I don’t know where my life will lead me. Maybe I’ll never get my dream job, or live the life I imagined. But God knows that if I waste my life because a few things went amiss…then I’m going to be an insult that was born into this world. Because, while I don’t understand this completely, I believe there’s a lot more in this universe than it meets the eye. And maybe I’ll be lucky enough to be touched by it.

Sometimes I wonder if my ancestors are watching my from the skies.  I know the stars we see are actually dying. And maybe these stars are proof that even death can be beautiful. But sometimes I look up and I wonder…are they there? Are they seeing me go through my heartbreaks and petty problems? Sometimes I wish I could talk to them, because sometimes I desperately need wisdom.

Sometimes, I just need to know that though people are not with us physically, they never truly leave us. Sometimes I think that there is an invisible string (sort of like that red-string of fate theory from the Chinese) tied to my fingers connecting me with people from this world and some people from beyond.

As you can see, my feelings are a muddled mess. Perhaps time will sort them out, like it normally does.

Nature and its beast.

They’re gorgeous creatures, aren’t they? Wolves are interesting to me. They’re so independent and free. And I feel like they understand the secrets of the wild that humans can’t imagine. I know we consider ourselves the “intelligent” specie, but I keep getting a feeling that we’re the stupid ones. Sure, we made cars that go over 200 mph, and the internet. While I’m thankful for those inventions,  we are rather idiotic in other ways. We still have wars. We love tampering with the natural. And most importantly…we are possessive. If we see something majestic and beautiful, as humans, our first instinct is to capture it. We want to hold on to beauty and call it ours.

I find a lot of people who are blinded and think that love is possession. We think that by loving something, we claim it to be ours. If it’s there with us, then it is love. And so I see couples glued to each other. I see people on social media sites stalking their friends needing to know every detail of their lives because…well, if you love them you should know everything about them and stay updated.

This isn’t going to be easy to explain because I’ve never actually been in love with anyone before. But I have loved. And I don’t think we truly know what love is until we’re willing to let it go. There is no claiming or anything. It’s a feeling that is strong and deep, but not necessarily possessive or obsessive. Maybe I’m a fool for the mystical, but I think humans do have a sixth sense when it comes to our spirit. It’s been bred out of us by technology, civilization, and some sort of glorification of modernity.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t use iPhones. Nor am I saying that being civilized is some terrible curse on our society. But I think that these things have misguided us unintentionally. I wonder why the only people who are considered wise in this world are the Dalai Lama and…well, dead people. For once I wish there was a Gandhi living amongst us, who wasn’t trying to make money off of giving speeches to misguided souls.

Animals are smarter in this respect. They already know where to find the answers, and it’s because they don’t think about it. They don’t look for it. They’re fine with simplicity. And the beautiful thing is, their love has no chains. They don’t love you to possess you. They love you to love you.

I recently watched the documentary, “Blackfish.” My fascination with killer whales started when I was around 12, and did a report on them in 7th grade. I was really proud of that report and the more I learned about them, the more I fell in love with them. To be honest, that documentary was slightly heartbreaking. I love animals and I love watching animals. But not that like that. It’s really interesting to hear the back story of Tilikum. Quite frankly, I don’t know who to believe anymore. The media skews things in such a manner, it’s almost frightening when I think about how many lies I’ve been told by people I’m supposed to trust. But if I were a two-year-old orca taken from my mother, put in a pool with random whales I don’t really care about (who hate me), where I’m constantly told being what to do in order to get a bit of fish so that I can SURVIVE…I don’t know, I’d be pretty damn miserable. Tili’s nothing more than a sperm bank now, and considering he’s already 31…I’m not sure if he’ll be living for much longer. Most orcas die in captivity around 35, if not younger. In nature, they live close to human years.

Tili is a good example of the possessiveness of human nature. We see something beautiful like this:

And think that we can take the sun, the mountains, the birds, and nature and its beast and contain it in this:

And we think that it’s somehow just as impressive because that creature can splash water on us, move its head up and down, and jump in the air and do this:

(That’s Tili right there)

Right, uh, our intelligence and sophistication as human beings has let us build planes and satellites, and yet we’re still amused by the most absurd (and who knows how cruel) forms of…oh right, entertainment…that insults the intelligence of these creatures.

If you want to see a whale, do what my parents did to me. Get on a boat, and go whale watching. You’ll save Nature some trouble, and save human beings  the embarrassment of telling themselves that they’re the “more intelligent animal.”