The Danger in Walking Away

We encounter daunting problems. Some of them seem utterly hopeless, and many people are inclined to walk (or run) away. They do not see any chance for resolution, are tired of dealing with it, and decide to wash their hands of the whole business.

[Note: In some cases, walking away is a viable solution, but generally only if BOTH parties are willing to walk away and start fresh. The situation I describe is one in which only one party gives up and leaves.]

The danger in giving up and walking away from a problem is twofold.

First, I believe that you are inflicting violence upon yourself. It causes a sort of spiritual damage to decide that you're helpless and the situation is hopeless. You are never helpless until you decide you are helpless. No situation is ever hopeless until you decide it his hopeless.

Second, you are inflicting violence upon those you leave behind. They needed your help in overcoming this obstacle. You can assist them in building a better tomorrow. Removing yourself from the challenge makes the situation that much more of a challenge.

Of course, we cannot solve or even work to solve every major challenge, but sometimes I think that just supporting the dream of a resolution in spirit and in voice counts for a lot, whereas saying, "This is evil, wrong, and hopeless and I'm out of here" resolves nothing.

Spirit-weary

In recent weeks, I have given myself over to a life based upon love more wholeheartedly than ever before. I am making a conscious effort to embody the peace that I am trying to create.

I am far from perfect, and I know this, but today I learned that I still thoughtlessly say hurtful things (so thoughtlessly that I cannot even remember what I said) and I am ashamed. I know that my mouth will not open as easily in the days to come, because I am acutely aware that my words are the most powerful weapon I bear.

I am puzzled by the fact that devoting myself to building peace has not just made me more determined, but more depressed. Perhaps having an eye on the ideal makes my flaws all the more conspicuous. What was brought to my attention today certainly doesn't ease this frustration.

I told Christopher just last night that I feel like I need to have a good cry, but that it just won't come. He told me that I've said that several times to him lately. I suppose the silver lining of today was that the tears finally came.

Oh, how long it has been

Years ago, blogging was an integral part of how I processed my life. It seems that the further I creep into adulthood, the less I desire to record my days. While some of this hesitance is due to a respectable craving for privacy on the Internetz, I fear that most is due to the fact that I just don't want to deal with things. I prefer to read a book, fall asleep, and start fresh in the morning.

However, my weak memory frightens me regularly—even more so when I read old blogs and realize just how much I have forgotten—so I will try to rekindle my love of the blog for my memory’s sake. I admit to substantial doubts about the odds of success, but I will try.

Is this what growing up is?

I read a quotation once somewhere (I think it’s a rather famous one) that insists we must live so that we are sucking the marrow from life. It’s a powerful metaphor, and something I have borne in mind since. Unfortunately, as of late, I feel that I have strayed. Life is sucking the marrow from me.

At present, my days are consumed by schoolwork, my job, classes, and a little bit of relaxation where I can squeeze it in. I enjoy these things, but I feel drained, primarily because there is such a dearth of true companionship in my day to day life. My friends have become people that I greet in the mornings and evenings, but little more.

I find myself with some free time in the evenings on weekends and I am craving some culture rather desperately—going out for dinner or coffee or to a performance of some sort. These are the activities I find fulfilling, in large part because they involve connecting with other people. I love deep conversation; not necessarily so intense as discussion about the meaning of life, (that’s what I’ve reserved this blog for, so that elsewhere I’m not burdened by these thoughts), but about my friends and their hopes and goals and joys and problems.

I feel truly fulfilled on the evenings when I go to bed having connected with someone. Unfortunately, during the only free time that I have, the social agenda seems to consist of getting gussied up for the standard college parties and bar hopping. These have a place in my life, too, to be sure, but not as a regular feature. When I wake the morning after “partying”, I feel spiritually vacuous. Following a night of superficial interaction with drunk strangers, I don’t feel particularly fulfilled when I don’t have meaningful interaction with friends (or potential friends) as a counterbalance.

Of course, I certainly carry much of the blame for this inner unrest. But after a long week of stress, perhaps I’d be happiest if I could just throw on some sweatpants, get a big old mug of coffee, and ask someone close, “How are you doing lately?”