dream log, 20101222

She drops down onto the mat, the laughter in her eyes outshining the glow of her smile. I fall into place beside her, my own expression a mirror of hers. We lie on our sides facing each other, talking and laughing like old friends - as if we've done this countless times before.

Her expression shifts for just a second. "But I'm not ready quite yet. I still need time to figure things out. It might take a long time - maybe even until I'm 90."

"Then I'll wait for you until you're 90," I respond, almost automatically. "I'll be here for you always."

onto deeper thoughts

We make so many big decisions in our lives based on what we think is best for ourselves and those around us. Given a choice of two paths without knowing the outcome of either path, we convince ourselves that one is better than the other and move forward, never really knowing if we did make the better choice. Sometimes, we do this even when our decision causes us pain or deprives us of pleasure in the near and medium term, but we hope that in the long run we will be better off for it. Then, after a long time has passed, we convince ourselves that we did. "Dodged that bullet," we say to ourselves and to our friends in hindsight. But we say it half-jokingly at best, because deep down we realize that we really don't know if we were right.

Milan Kundera writes:

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.

Was it better to be with Tereza or to remain alone?

There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, "sketch" is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.

Einmal is keinmal, says Tomas to himself. What happens but once, says the German adage, might as well have not happened at all. If we have only one life to live, we might as well have not lived at all.

All I know is this: while I have made many mistakes in my life thus far and am bound to make countless more, I do not regret a single one of them. Each and every mistake I have made has taught me something invaluable or led me to other wonderful and amazing things - and oftentimes it's even both, so I really have no basis whatsoever to say that my life would be better right now if I had done anything differently.

So when I look at the present and the future, and I see something beautiful and great right in front of me - I choose to pursue it without regard for whether it's best for me in the long run. Because the fact of the matter is, there is no way of truly knowing what's best for me in the long run.

Call me short-sighted. Call me greedy. Call me foolish. But I'd rather be all that. I'd rather die trying for it than live the rest of my life wondering, "What if?"

an ordinary day

It's been a day of small pleasures: waking up to a delightful text message exchange, engaging threads on my college friends' mailing list about personal finances and Chinese parenting (the former not related to the latter), productive meetings at work, making a near-perfect cup of coffee, a happy hour where my coworkers and I stayed for the entire 2 hours because of the interesting conversations we were having (rather than the usual awkward silences, staring at the TV, and leaving as soon as we could do so without being rude to each other), a fun class with good training in the evening, and last but definitely not least, a delicious dinner with wonderful and amazing friends.

I couldn't tell you that anything extraordinary happened today - a lot of these things have happened before and probably will happen again (I hope). But when all of these small and seemingly inconsequential events all align within a single day and keep the smile on my face going through every minute of it, I can't help but take notice and feel extremely blessed and grateful to every single person who touched my life today.

It was an ordinary day of the rarest kind.

remember

In times of unbearable pain, remember the moments of relief.
In times of insurmountable turmoil, remember the moments of stillness.
In times of overwhelming darkness, remember the moments of light.

In times of pain, turmoil, and darkness...
remember the moments like this.

dealing

Among the various activities I've been taking on to simultaneously numb myself and fill up the space, I finally got around to reading The Name of the Wind.* Actually, I guess I really only started a couple days ago, but as of last night I'm already 500 or so pages into it - so obviously, I highly recommend it to anyone looking for good fiction.

The following passage has stuck to my mind since. I started writing a long, reflective post about it, but it's coming out all wrong right now, so we'll have to make do with just the passage itself for now.

Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.

First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.

Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.

Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

* Thanks to X for lending me the book almost a year ago and for persistently reminding me to read it, and to J for bringing it up recently so that I felt compelled to actually do so.