Sometimes, I’ll get caught up in the idea that our lives are a series of exhausting transactions, an endless defense of our self-worth and value. Then I remember there’s enough metaphysical wiggle room to allow for the possibility we might be in a simulation, that we aren’t yet certain whether consciousness is a fluke of material interaction, how much free will we actually have (if any), and other seemingly unanswerable matters.

As long as I have that wiggle room, I’ll focus on framing my life as an adventure–not an oppressive horror-survival, or a Sisyphean slog that only lets up when I breathe my last.

Due to the well-being that arises when my mind is empty, I’ve come to suspect that well-being is actually the default state–that it needn’t be justified or defended, and all that it requires is unobstructed passage to make itself felt.

Or I could exist in an internal state of paranoia and sacrifice. Always justifying, always guarding, always ready to oppress any potential oppressors, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve done that for a good portion of my life. At this point, I prefer to assume that my natural abidance is in a different state of existence.

As time passes, I’ve seen “bad” things become good, and “good” things become bad. My takeaway is that I needn’t rush to condemn or praise, that I can focus more on enjoying the moment instead of obsessing over the score. From what I’ve seen of fulfillment, it doesn’t seem to be wedded to a checklist approach where on-paper accomplishments are all that matter. For me, it seems to reside in the spaces between milestones, and the openness to improvise along the way.

That’s just me, though. I have nothing against folks who restrict their enjoyment to rare and fleeting slivers of time, where they’ve managed to cobble together a set of outward conditions.

I like to think that any unpleasantness in my past has some potential benefit. With time and perspective, I like to think that negative outcomes can be shaped into something positive–they don’t have to be some evil ghost that lurks in the shadows and randomly messes with me. Their true purpose might be the polar opposite: to show me insight and guidance over a long-term span.

Maybe that’s a pipe dream. I don’t know. But sometimes, it’s become a reality. And if it’s just a fantasy, I’m fine with perpetuating my optimistic delusion.

Most prefer positivity, but opinions differ on whether to force it or be negative in the name of authenticity.

When I force positivity, it feels like I’m a ceaseless ball of tension, everywhere from my muscles to my intrusive thoughts. When I deliberately justify or rationalize negativity, it grows and emboldens. In either case, I end up exhausted.

Personally, I’ve found it more cathartic to accept and feel negativity without consciously accelerating it. I allow myself to be irrationally angry, without badgering myself as to why I should or shouldn’t be. Conscious rejection or justification seem to act as an accelerant, ensuring the negativity lingers and eats up processing power, eventually growing into an all-consuming fire. I’d rather shake hands with it, respect it, and let it have its say. I don’t have to outwardly express it, tolerate it (begrudging acceptance), agree with it, or argue for or against it. I just let it be felt and heard inside my mind, and if something else negative comes along, I let that be felt and heard as well. Then, after respecting and acknowledging each other, me and my negativity agree to disagree and go our separate ways.

That’s what seems to work for me. Not sure if it works for anyone else.

I’ve made myself miserable trying to pin down the objective truth–I used to think I could somehow quantify it and impose it on others. But then I realized what worked for me didn’t work for others, what called to me didn’t call to others, what drove and energized me was not universal.

Perhaps the objective truth is we must subjectively experience it; quantification and description only seem to go so far. Maybe we just have to live it and be it.

Paradoxically, there seems to be validity to the argument that every story has been told before (thematically and structurally), and also that every occurrence is novel by default (it occurs only once in its unique space-time coordinate, surrounded by its own unique configuration of subatomic reality).

To me, the novelty or timelessness isn’t relevant. If I’m writing a story, I’m going to focus on how it feels to me–how it resonates with my emotions and imagination. Hopefully, readers will feel the same or similar. I can’t control that; they’re shaped by their own unique circumstances and choices.

In the meantime, while they’re reading, I’m going to write the next story as best I can.

When I’m stuck in negativity, I know “this too shall pass,” is objectively true. But if I harangue myself with that phrase when it doesn’t resonate, I just prolong my negativity.

So I accept whatever thought arises naturally, even if it’s false. It could be “this will last forever,” “this is hopeless,” etc. I don’t agree with it and I don’t amplify it with conscious thought (justifying or rationalizing why it’s endless or hopeless), but I let that irrational, emotional part of me be heard and felt within my own mind. No one else needs to know what I’m thinking, but I like to respect/acknowledge that illogical part of me, so that it can have its say, we can politely agree to disagree, then both go our separate ways. It is a piece of me, after all, and I’d rather not fight myself while I’m going about my day.

Sometimes, I can nag or rationalize myself out of negativity. Oftentimes, I can’t.

I find it more effective to acknowledge my negativity’s validity (not its metaphysical/objective truth, because who knows what’s objectively true? We still don’t know if this is a simulation) and its right to exist. Intellectually, that may seem like I’m agreeing with it, but emotionally, its acknowledgment and inclusion lessens its grip, because I’m not strengthening it through denial or rejection (which is what happens when I reject and/or deny). I believe this is different from the hyper-exaggerated “owning” of negativity, or the needy exploration of it to prove to an externality that I’ve confronted and made my peace with it. It took me a while to develop the sensitivity that allowed me to perceive the nuance, but the vibe is much more like a heated argument occurring within me, where both sides disengage by civilly agreeing to disagree, then going their separate ways without any insecurity-born desire to dominate the other, and/or score a last-word parting shot.

Sometimes, when I’m deep in the throes of being a happy idiot, I realize it’s the smartest choice I could have made in that moment.