Be you, but better

I suspect that ideals are the true drivers of both a well-lived life and any real cultural progress.  It is a flat and dull life that has no idealism burning in its core.

   - Kyle Kramer (in "A Time To Plant")

So my friend sends me this quote above and asks me to write a blog post about ‘ideals’. The first thought I have is that I am a bit vague about the exact definition of ideals. I think it means 'one’s idea of perfection'. So I look up the definition but still feel a bit vague and terribly ambivalent about it. Actually, ambivalence is my middle name. So of course I reply to her that it is a tough topic to write about and I am not sure I can do it. Of course she’s not going to let me off that easy, so she said that I can take it as a challenge. My default reaction to challenges is to run in the opposite direction, as fast and as far as I can possibly get. I worry that there is only so many words you can type before people find out that it’s all pretentious crap. But me being me, I could not resist writing pretentious crap. Anyway, mulling over the subject, I ended up with more questions than answers. But if you have read any of my posts, you probably already know that by now.  

What it means to me...

To me, an ideal denotes an ultimate goal. It sets our way of life as an individual, as a community and as a culture. We dream of an ideal partner, ideal home, ideal life, ideal job, ideal family, ideal environment, ideal looks, ideal candidate, ideal place, ideal relationship, ideal practice... the list goes on. In theory, it is perceived somewhat as an unattainable bar of life, which is always set higher than what is currently possible. So does it spur us on to do better or does it seem Utopian and dishearten us and make us cynical? If you ask me, it depends on what time of day it is. No really, I keep going back and forth with it and can’t really decide. Typical.

What is it anyway...

How do we form our ideals? What is our idea of 'perfect'? Do ideals reflect our childhood dreams and influences? Do they shift with the sands of time? Do they bend as we evolve as individuals? Are they molded by our opinions and perceptions? Are they an inherent part of our psyche? If so, then there is really no getting away from them. Does it apply equally to all facets of our life or are there areas that are better left alone from the mark of ideologies (if you can't escape ideals, you can't escape ideologies either)? Do values define ideals? And if indeed our values are our yardsticks, why then do we need ideals? What is the aim in attaining the ideal state? Is it even necessary? Is it even possible? Or is it just merely part of the vocabulary, a word to indicate a perfect state, unnatural even, and hence not really applicable to life?

Do we need it...

On the one hand, having ideals feels a bit naive. It feels like aspiring to the impossible, a pipe dream, thereby not very pragmatic. They lead us to disillusionment. And when imposed, in ever so subtle ways, they take on shades of repression. We could get close-minded because of them. And what happens when ideologies clash? Do they cause friction rather than a sense of connection? Do they make us rigid in our ways? Do we feel the pressure mounting when time is ticking away and when the doors are closing in on us? And finally, do any of us ever realize our ideals? Is it the light at the end of the tunnel or is it just an idea of the light at the end of the tunnel?

My theory...

I am going to go out on a limb here and say that idealism could be viewed as a science. There is logical reasoning behind its existence. It lays down the rules, so to speak, of how we move from childhood through adulthood and to our twilight years. It sets the stage for expectations. It gives us something to strive for, constantly. It fuels the myriad experiments in our lives. Experiments that are in effect an exploration of what we envision in our ideals. But as we all know there is never one path to discovery. Nor are they all clear-cut. Most of them are buried in brambles. They are the metaphorical ‘Road Less traveled’. Anyway, I digress.

Back to experiments - What happens when our experiments fail? And what about unrealized and disproved theories. Where does it leave us? To paraphrase Robert Pirsig in ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ - Science strives to prove predefined truths by hypotheses and experiments. But how can you define truth when the number of hypotheses is infinite and thus rendering the so called truth, inconclusive. In his words, 'For every fact, there is an infinity of hypotheses'. Transferring that supposition to the world of ideals, what is ideal for me, might prove to be imperfect for someone else or under different circumstances, even for me as well. What then? Do we get worked up about it? Do we second guess ourselves? What then is the purpose of ideals?

Maybe, just maybe, ideals work best when viewed as an art. You leave it to the individual - the beholder. And to the imagination. You see what you want to see. If it brings beauty to your world, by all means, let it. If it doesn't, then it is time to move on.

Maybe we do need it...

Having ideals, in its purest sense, is to hope for a better state than where we are now. It fuels our drive for a better world, for ourselves and for those around us. It becomes our guide to the way we live. And if we are tuned to it, it stokes the fire in our belly. It is our motivation. It calibrates our thoughts and levels our actions. It is our point of reference. Our North Star.

Finally...

When ideals forge our lives, we hope that we eventually get there. And if we do, to realize that we did. And even if we don’t, which I dare say, is the case for most of us, there is always hope. Our efforts are our hopes. And where there is hope, there is possibility. Be you, but better might seem diametrically opposed. But if seen through the lens of idealism, that is in essence, who we are.

To Become...

“I am as unfinished as the shoreline along the beach,

meant to transcend myself again and again.” 

- Joan Anderson

It’s been sometime since I sat down to write. I have been waiting for a modicum of creative inspiration to hit me. Nothing of that sort has happened. Either it needs to whack me harder so I can recognize it or it needs to come carrying a label as such. Because lately, my mind has been too scattered to be receptive. Creative thoughts in my head are a rare occurrence to begin with and even if it happens, it vanishes as quickly as it arrives. It is reassuring, nevertheless, to know that it is out there.

For the past few weeks though, it has been completely eluding me. I don’t seem to have anything to say. I read as usual, but everything ricochets off my brain. Even with all that barrage of information, all is quiet on the opinion front. Everything seems either very obvious or very ambiguous. But I am not going to fill this entire post with my woes on creativity. I doubt if it is going to be anything profound or original, but I do have something to share.

I just finished reading ‘A year by the Sea - thoughts of an unfinished woman’ by Joan Anderson. It was recommended to me by my friend a while ago. It stayed in my ‘To read’ list until after a serendipitous second prompt, I dove into it last week. It is a small book and I finished it in two sittings.

The premise of the book is exploration. An exploration of the self, of nature and of life. It all begins when the author surprises herself and those around her when she decides to upend the status quo and spend a year away from everyone - her friends and family. She writes about her experiences living in a small fishing village in Cape Cod. Relishing her solitude, she comes to terms with her past, ponders her future and explores the present.

Her writing is as fluid as the sea that inspires her. She engages your senses describing her experiences with nature - the elements, the sky, the seals, the sea and the shore. Especially the seals. Personally, I have never found them appealing. Dolphins, yes. Seals, no, not really. They are smelly, bulky and when out of the water, they seem physically, a bit awkward. But after reading her perspective, I see them differently now.

The author’s scrutinizing of her life and all the self-analysis might seem indulgent and self-absorbed to some. You could argue that a year living in a cottage by the sea is an idyllic setting that few could afford. And with no responsibilities and obligations to boot. That she should count her blessings instead of focusing on what is purportedly lacking. To many who aren’t as privileged as she is, it might not be all that much that is missing in her life. As her husband reminds her something to the effect of - ‘You have food, warmth and shelter. What more could a person need?’. She herself is aware of it when she laments “When will I ever learn to accept what is given instead of always yearning for more? My lavish expectations too often tarnish my blessings.”

But I get it. I get the longing she feels of coming into her own. The freedom to be herself - to find her true essence buried below layers of posturing. And years of conformity. She is restless and unhappy until she finds the courage to step out of her comfort zone. She revels in her solitude resolutely denying everything that is acceptable and familiar. She makes the little village by the sea her home not because of the community, but because of her affinity to the landscape. I can understand that. I understand that there is nothing that can ground you as much as nature can.

A few takeaways from the book - 

• It is never too late for your dreams.
• Make time for reflection, every day, even if only for a few minutes.
• Experience nature in its own terms.
• Learn to be in solitude.
• Have a personal mentor. This is totally new for me. I never thought of the concept of a mentor outside of my job. To paraphrase the author - You need someone other than your mother who can rally for you and your dreams and who can pick you up when you fall flat on your face’. How wonderful would it be to have someone like that.  
• Have an adventure. Step out into the unknown.

None of these are entirely unfamiliar to us. But maybe when we come across the same advice over and over, albeit from different sources and directions, however inspiring, it stops having an effect on us. It loses its simple wisdom and becomes a cliche. It doesn’t spur us on to create. It doesn’t move us to take action. It doesn’t challenge us to break the cycle. But once in a while, it makes us think and wonder. Maybe there is a start.

One of my favorite quotes from the book is ‘To become you must do’. It is less esoteric than the ‘Don’t do, just be’ mindful slogan that I am used to hearing. So I intend to follow it... for once, at least. Hence this post.