Thesis Diary #5: White flags and red marks

Every man's life lies within the present, for the past is spent and done with, and the future is uncertain.

- Marcus Aurelius

I got a fright - well, as much as one can be spooked by black text on a white screen - when my supervisor handed back a recent draft of my thesis - more red marks on it than something I would've handed in to a maths teacher in my high school years. But during this week, I reflected on the Stoic philosophers; Seneca the Younger, Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus. Re-reading the Meditations for the thousandth time, I was calmed by my own innate ability to take the present moment and approach my thesis in the same way. I had to surrender what I had done incorrectly as per the criterion and re-write or re-organize what I had done, one step at a time. A human mind boggles in the face of three things:

• nothingness; we cannot think of nothing nor can we experience a return to it 
• The imperceptibly small and,
• the extremely massive.

So 18,000 words seemed like an insurmountable obstacle if I approached as thus. But following the teachings that I have accumulated since my renaissance on life, I can reduce, compartmentalize and think of attacking a platoon, one by one instead of taking an entire army head on, with sword aloft and faltering courage in my heart. 

But grappling something with reason? Victory may not be assured, but it is certainly within the realms of achievable possibility. What one man can do, another can do. We all have within us the power to create great works, add to the knowledge of our culture or even hurt, maim or kill. But we also have the power of choice. We cannot choose everything we want in life; but what we can choose we can definitely make the most of. We surrender to time almost constantly - especially timing. Now two months remain but I remain calm. Think of the minutes wasted on Facebook and television; forsake them for minutes a day and hours in which to do what you please will magically appear before you!

People still ask, "So how many words have you done?" or "What are you up to?" I may answer 12,229 words are written but they are in no way "done." I fear that I will not be "done" I will merely have "handed it in." Will I ever be "done?" If I had it my way, I doubt I would.

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Thesis Diary #4: Verisimilitude and Perfection

About three months ago I resolved to go on a dating and sexual moratorium. I felt my heart and mind weren't in the right place to even consider dating again after a recent breakup; it hit me harder than I'd care to admit at the time and only now I feel that I'm in a position to even consider going "back on the market" again. However, during my dating moratorium, I ended up breaking it. I never went out of my way to seek a date or put myself out there for any type of meaningful, character-building rejection, but I did sleep with someone.

So I mulled over it a while. Was it so bad that I allowed this to happen? I enjoy having sex and sex is an enjoyable part of my masculinity - my very humanity. I enjoyed the act itself. So why feel guilt or shame over it? It didn't make me a "shit" or a "louse" (as Dr. Ellis would eloquently say.) After a time I remembered the words of friends and brothers: "You don't have to do it right, you just have to do it." This permeated the rest of my feelings and my thoughts - much like my thesis; I don't have to do it perfectly, I just have to do it. So I took an index card out of my deck and wrote that phrase down. I placed it on my wall next to my other collected affirmations. Funnily enough, an identical card was already to be found. It had completely slipped my mind.

So now, at the time of writing, I'm about a half way done - 9,117w down and almost as many to go. In the mean time, I've booked myself into the Walkley Foundation Freelance Conference. I attained my yellow belt in Sin Moo Hapkido. My article for ETC, was published (although I'm yet to receive a copy.) I'm writing reviews for the Pun for this year's Melbourne International Comedy Festival. I've gone from under-employed to almost taking on too many projects to humanly handle while writing a thesis essentially full time.

Despite the nagging voice in the back of my head urging me to make everything perfect lest the world cave in around me, I have to remind myself that perfection is a state of mind and relatively relative. It's not worth attaching my sense of worth to attaining the almost impossible; I am a man and I have limitations - none more so limiting than the maladaptive beliefs that I can easily change. I can "lean" into challenge and try my best. If I that's what I can do, that's what I'll be content with.

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The Winding Road to Shangri-La

In the first time in over a year since the beginning of my recovery, I've finally slammed into a wall. Dusting myself off and nursing my bruises I've only just managed to start the arduous and tedious walk around the wall. Why not just climb over? And what would that even entail?

During my twenty-four years on this earth, I've learned a lot of so-called facts that have turned out to be bullshit. Partially or totally so. My brain has been told time and again that the outside world is thus and immutable. Life is not what our thoughts make it? Now such a notion strikes me as ridiculous.

If the bright spark of settling into the exciting idea that things can be better for myself shone brightly and abundantly for the first year, I would consider this a dark and barren transition phase. Step after begrudging step I walk as ashes fall from the sky. Though not a complete halt, it feels like I'm in retreat from my feelings and desires as the world around me speeds toward changes I'm unable to control. My loved ones' times are fading and far from thrashing against it, I must accept, mourn and move on. I want to see abundance but all I am left with is the sting of scarcity. I want to reach out and cherish all the people in my life, but I still feel they are on the other side of the wall, waiting for me to catch up. They will not wait forever and will eventually move forward on their own path. Without any judgment or reservation, I will too.

Despite it all, the small victory becomes apparent: in knowing one step can follow another, the future is there for our taking. Companions will leave; new lovers and friends will emerge. Then we all depart, towards our final, unavoidable destination. If I can tolerate and learn from the grey and sorrowful, this time of desolation and emptiness, it will lead me to somewhere greater. Every man must carry his scars, his ashes. It is what gives him strength in these times of need.

So now I walk with ashes in hand, toward the other side.

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http://twitter.com/crushtor