The Power of Perception

One of the most powerful tools we have in our  human arsenal is perception. How do we view the world and how do we choose to react to what we see and experience?

Though initially automatic in nature, perception is best paired with the act of mindfulness, that is the “psychological process of bringing one’s attention to the internal and external experiences occurring in the present moment” (Wikipedia). Our reactions  to stressors are rarely limited to isolated incidents. Human beings are icebergs who have a lot going on beneath the surface. More often than not, an emotional or mental trigger urges us to react to a situation in a way that we don’t quite understand, leading us to become irrationally angry or upset, and unable to process problems in a constructive manner. We channel past experiences and hurts intuitively and act based on instinct.

Embracing the power of perception allows us to facilitate healing. We become aware of our bruises, needs, and desires. With practice and focus, we abate the ego – the child who seeks immediate soothing through outbursts – and cultivate a deeper understanding of ourselves and our actions. We attain a new level of self-respect and come to appreciate autonomy. A side effect: we are less ensnared by the expectations and opinions of others.

Perception can be divided into two categories, internal (personal perception, addressed above) and external (the perception of peers).

Confessions from the Inkwell: Writing to Achieve Balance

Don’t be afraid; people are so afraid; don’t be afraid to live in the raw wind, naked, alone… 

Learn at least this: 

Let nothing stand in your way. 

-Tony Kushner, Angels in America

There are times when I experience swells of emotion. Words stop in my throat because I’m not quite sure how to transcribe all feeling. As a writer who prides herself on self-expression, this can present quite the conundrum. If you placed me in a specific environment and asked me to describe what I saw, felt, tasted – I would take no issue. I could effortlessly pull from my mind words and phrases to paint a picture, more a mood. Evoking responses in the written sense is often effortless. It’s just how I’m wired.

On Pushing Back: A Lesson in Improvement

“When I’m criticized unjustly (from my own viewpoint, at least), or when someone I’m sure will understand me doesn’t, I go running for a little longer than usual. By running longer it’s like I can physically exhaust that portion of my discontent. It also makes me realize again how weak I am, how limited my abilities are. I become aware, physically, of these low points. And one of the results of running a little farther than usual is that I become that much stronger. If I’m angry, I direct that anger toward myself. If I have a frustrating experience, I use that to improve myself.” 
― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

Deconstructing “I Don’t Care”: On Apathy & Limitation

Everyone who’s human experiences days, weeks, months, or even years of I don’t care. It’s getting stuck in a cyclical loop of apathy when most of us are just trying to survive. We do this by not emotionally investing in people, situations, or events that tend to drain our energy. This can clearly be recognized as a defense mechanism. In essence we stop engaging, pursuing life with gusto and vigor, and delving deep into our passions. More often than not, we hit a metaphorical wall, bang our heads, curse, and proceed to complain about not being able to progress and grow.

The Pervasiveness of Homesickness

The mark of a learned mind is the ability to fold and exist within ideas not wholly understood by a significant portion of mankind. A writer (a learned one) takes great joy in exploring their depth and discovering how they relate to others in a broad sphere.

Words function as such: to divulge. And as much as they are utilized for explanation purposes, those well versed in their rendering also have words function as a shield. I would be remiss to say that I never hid behind my words (a coward’s errand). But sometimes it’s necessary to test to the waters, to see how much another party is interested in peeling back the layers. Humans, by nature, crave understanding where judgment is reserved. Unfortunately it is rare to find individuals who proffer unbiased understanding. We are ego. We are absorbed in our very being and at times it is extremely difficult to deal with our own baggage – let alone the issues of someone else. This is where self-actualization comes in, but that isn’t the purpose of this post.

Let’s operate under the assumption that we have met people who on some existential level, get us. There exists this gratifying emotional return balanced by compassion and acceptance. It is unbiased and does not boast. It simply is. Now we can never tell how long the people with whom such a relationship is fostered will be in our lives. In truth, we should be thankful for whatever experiences we are blessed to have with them. It’s all too likely, however, that we grow attached to those who incite our growth. A perfect world would ensure that these people remain a part of our lives forever. As you’ve probably already guessed, the world isn’t perfect and neither are people or relationships.

A foundational belief I hold is thus: we grow together or we grow apart. It may seem simplistic, but people either contribute to your world or they detract from it and when the latter happens, it’s time to move on.

This isn’t easy and more often than there are remnants of attachment. It’s a longing for the past, for the comfort of an individual or circumstance that breeds a sort of homesickness – for situations and memories, but not necessarily for the person.

One of the saddest instances is when people who were integral to who you were are extricated from your life (for some reason or another). You can know with certainty that the relationship could not continue on for it no longer was healthy nor served you. However, this doesn’t diminish the the residual sadness of knowing that where once something existed, there is now nothing. The intimacy has vanished, becoming a shadow, a stranger.

We become homesick for memories as much as we do places.

When I think of losing people I loved whether by my hand or their’s, I can’t help but pause. It’s not that I wish I still had them in my life – for my greatest progression toward change occurred with them gone – but that…well, the shock and pervasiveness of loss, prevails. It can be likened to a phantom limb on the emotional spectrum. I know this existed once. It’s gone now, but the memories remain. This makes me wonder if absence (of people and understanding) is the root of all heartache.

My greatest advice is not to become embittered when reliving these memories. We are who we are because of the people we met and the times we shared. Paying homage to them, experiencing the depth of emotional discord, and (here’s the key) moving forward is the greatest way honor who we were and who we will become.

There are days that will be harder than others. Times when we won’t feel completely understood, when people will dismiss this ennui as a wish to transport ourselves back in time to relive the situation – or else to return to an unhealthy relationship. The beauty of each individual’s personal humanity is that we all experience life at varying depths. That’s okay. Find those who understand and reserve judgment. We had it once and we’ll have it again.

Let it be what it was, simply – I miss what we had together, when we grew side by side, instead of apart – breathe, and move forward.

Understanding the why of our feelings is the first integral step in knowing ourselves.