I won't be happy until I get out of this town.
If I move to Chicago my life will be more interesting.
When I find love I will feel true happiness.
I won't be comfortable until I can afford to live on my own.
When I get a job, I will be able to make a difference in people's lives.
Until.
If.
When.
Until. IF. When.
UntilIfWhen...
The conditional clause. Let me refresh your memory for those of you who may have forgotten/missed/skipped this lesson in English class. The conditional clause is a sentence that discusses “factual implications or hypothetical situations and their consequences." (Wikipedia) Say what? Basically, it's a sentence that indicates the circumstances under which an event might take place.
In math it's generally expressed as: If x then y. But what if x never happens? What then? The logical conclusion is that y won't either. So, what if I never find a job, move to Chicago or find love? Am I destined to a life of despair and unhappiness? If the last couple of weeks are any indication, the answer is yes.
I've allowed these simple yet powerful statements to take root in my mind and the consequences are pretty damn depressing. Everyday I wake up and am reminded that I'm still unemployed; still living in my mother's house at 26, and will need to start paying school loans back soon....Everyday I become more hopeless and even more paralyzed by my own hopelessness. Today it became unbearable. I went to the grocery store and the task was too much for me. I couldn't decide if I wanted to vomit, cry, or scream but whatever was inside of me desperately needed to get out. When I got home, I forced myself to write. After my mind had cleared itself of all the hateful thoughts I held about my current circumstances, I was free to move on. I was open enough to realize that I needed to remove x as a condition for y.
If I don't believe that my happiness, satisfaction, peace, joy etc. is contingent upon these things, the entire equation falls apart. I'm no math expert but it adds up to me. I don't have to stop seeking a job, love, or even the opportunity to move somewhere else. But, I do have stop allowing these things to be the sole source of my happiness. I can chose to be happy regardless of whatever happens (that's a prepositional phrase).
Regardless of whether I find a job, I'm happy that I've had the free time to write.
Regardless of whether I find romantic love, I'm happy that I have beautiful people in my life who love me unconditionally.
Regardless of whether or not I can afford to live on my own, I'm happy (and extremely grateful) that I have a roof over my head and I'm not financially burdened by rent or a mortgage right now.
Now that we've had our lesson, it's time for a quiz!
Multiple Choice:
1.)What is a conditional clause?
a. The guy that lives at the North Pole
b. a statement about “factual implications or hypothetical situations and their consequences."
c. a song by Ricky Martin
d. a secret society
2.) 1+1 =
a. 2
b. 3
c. 4
d. 11
3.)Who controls my (your) happiness?
a. Me (you)
b. my (your) parents
c. the government
d. my (your) significant other
Short Answer:
4.) What are you unconditionally happy for? Share in the comment box below!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Invasion
There's a big black cricket in my room.
I feel violated as he jumps around the only space I can claim as my own in this house.
I'm afraid to get too close but I can't let him out of my sight, least I give up whatever semblance of peace I have here.
As my gaze expands to encompass the entire room, I see with fresh eyes, the state of disarray my room is in.
Half unpacked moving boxes spill their contents on the floor.
I left them this way because I wanted my actions to mirror my intention to stay here only a short period of time.
At least that's how I justify it in my mind.
Two months later and my room and my life are a complete mess.
Yet, I'm most indignant at the fact that this creature has taken over the only place I can cry privately.
I feel violated as he jumps around the only space I can claim as my own in this house.
I'm afraid to get too close but I can't let him out of my sight, least I give up whatever semblance of peace I have here.
As my gaze expands to encompass the entire room, I see with fresh eyes, the state of disarray my room is in.
Half unpacked moving boxes spill their contents on the floor.
I left them this way because I wanted my actions to mirror my intention to stay here only a short period of time.
At least that's how I justify it in my mind.
Two months later and my room and my life are a complete mess.
Yet, I'm most indignant at the fact that this creature has taken over the only place I can cry privately.
I think I understand now what you meant when you said that you've lost your passion. I know now how it feels to question everything you once believed with such certainty; to feel as if you're doing things with no real meaningful purpose behind them. Every time I get another text message or phone call or email reminding me to “keep my head up” or telling me that “my blessing is on its way,” I want to vomit and scream (and not necessarily in that order). I'm ashamed at how trite my naïve positivity and Zen like quotes must have sounded to you. I wasn't aware that I was unconsciously undermining the seriousness of the way you were feeling. I get it now, I truly do.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The (Re)birth of a Poetess
Last summer, I discovered that I could actually write “poetry.” I used to think that my Virgo-esque analytic nature and linear thinking prevented me from all such creative endeavors. If truth be told, I was only terrified of the messiness of poetry because subconsciously I must have realized that there was nowhere to hide in a genre of writing with such freedom of expression. I was comfortable with the sanitized version of my writing that fit neatly within the boundaries of formal introductions, “engaging” topic sentences and tidy little endings. I was a prisoner to 'The Research Paper' and didn't even know it.
As cliché as it sounds, it was really daily meditation that allowed me to open up new dimensions of myself and freed me enough to write honestly. Shortly after I started the practice, I began having the craziest, most vivid dreams. These dreams pulled me so deep within myself that I felt as if I were swimming upward through a pool of thick gravy just to break free to the surface. I often woke up crying and more exhausted then when I had laid down to rest. Sometimes the content of the dreams was so intense that I would unconsciously propel myself upwards and out of them to protect myself from whatever physical or emotional danger seemed imminent at the time. I started writing down the details as soon as I woke up because, in an attempt to understand, my mind would constantly replay the images and leave me feeling unsettled for the rest of the day. Once on paper, they seemed less threatening, although still incomprehensible at times. As time passed, I became comfortable using less and less words to express myself and didn't feel trapped inside the rules of proper grammar. The messiness that was once the source of great anxiety had became the very thing that gave me relief. In the morning, I would do some light editing and a “poem” was born.
Looking back, I realize that most of what I write when I'm writing freely is a direct reflection of my inner spiritual growth and evolution. Reoccurring themes such as the contradictory fear of and desire for intimacy permeate my words and serve as a visual record of my emotional journey. I look at these “poems” and there's a certain truth about them that I can acknowledge deep within my spirit. This is what art is to me. It's not necessarily about the specialized skills of a particularly talented individual. Art is when you can look at what you've produced and recognize and appreciate it as a part of your authentic self. Art is the feeling and expression of who you really are. If other people find it beautiful, inspiring or liberating; that's great. However, external recognition is secondary to the beauty, inspiration, and liberation you've already found within yourself.
As cliché as it sounds, it was really daily meditation that allowed me to open up new dimensions of myself and freed me enough to write honestly. Shortly after I started the practice, I began having the craziest, most vivid dreams. These dreams pulled me so deep within myself that I felt as if I were swimming upward through a pool of thick gravy just to break free to the surface. I often woke up crying and more exhausted then when I had laid down to rest. Sometimes the content of the dreams was so intense that I would unconsciously propel myself upwards and out of them to protect myself from whatever physical or emotional danger seemed imminent at the time. I started writing down the details as soon as I woke up because, in an attempt to understand, my mind would constantly replay the images and leave me feeling unsettled for the rest of the day. Once on paper, they seemed less threatening, although still incomprehensible at times. As time passed, I became comfortable using less and less words to express myself and didn't feel trapped inside the rules of proper grammar. The messiness that was once the source of great anxiety had became the very thing that gave me relief. In the morning, I would do some light editing and a “poem” was born.
Looking back, I realize that most of what I write when I'm writing freely is a direct reflection of my inner spiritual growth and evolution. Reoccurring themes such as the contradictory fear of and desire for intimacy permeate my words and serve as a visual record of my emotional journey. I look at these “poems” and there's a certain truth about them that I can acknowledge deep within my spirit. This is what art is to me. It's not necessarily about the specialized skills of a particularly talented individual. Art is when you can look at what you've produced and recognize and appreciate it as a part of your authentic self. Art is the feeling and expression of who you really are. If other people find it beautiful, inspiring or liberating; that's great. However, external recognition is secondary to the beauty, inspiration, and liberation you've already found within yourself.
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