I haven’t had a lot of success with rationalizing or forcing away my negativity. Obviously, it’s not smart to outwardly express it or act it out (in a lot of situations, anyway), so for the longest time, I defaulted to bludgeoning myself with reasons as to why my negativity was invalid or irrational. Predictably, that was exhausting.

Nowadays, I’ve found it easier to acknowledge my negativity’s right to exist, and simply focus on allowing it to be (acknowledge it and feel it regardless of how inappropriate or irrational it is, even though I don’t outwardly express it). I don’t have to endorse it, like it, or regard it with grudging tolerance (sullenly view it in a begrudging light), but I find that it seems to act like a mirror of myself, which, even though it initiates the hold, is an entity I can choose to grapple with in a lose-lose dynamic; it meets my force with an exhaustingly close match in strength and stubbornness. However, once I relax my grip and accept my negativity, once I allow myself to feel it and let it be (kind of like how my supposed higher self is accepting of both negative and positive), I find that my negativity imitates my approach and loosens its hold. If it were separate from me, a different person so to speak, then we’ve disagreed politely and gone our separate ways, instead of indulging in a scarcity mentality where only one of us has the right to exist.

Obviously, a journey begins with a single step, but personally, I have encountered a follow-on need to nurture positivity; it primes my perception for opportunities and choices, rather than browbeating and relentless disparagement.

I could adopt the age-old argument that greatness comes from voluntary misery, but I’ve lived way too long in a wretched and destitute, tit-for-tat, transaction-driven model where the victor wins a torturously anemic sip of happiness before plunging back into an ocean of contestation and suffering. If I eat good food, I’d like to enjoy it without hemming and hawing. If I see good movies, I’d like to appreciate them without obsessing over how they could have been better. And if I write a story that I love and approve of when I hit publish, I’d like to move on to the joy of writing the next one, without bemoaning how I could have added or subtracted this or that.

Perhaps that means I forsake the masses’ definition of “greatness.” I don’t think it’s an either/or, but if I’m deemed outwardly great while being inwardly miserable, then I believe I’m in conflict with my existential purpose.

I used to think I had to nag and berate myself in order to perform, but then I observed folks who were great performers and positive-minded. I realized I’d rather aim for that, then be upheld as a tortured example of outward excellence–internally stuck in discontent, insecurity, and the constant temptation to put others down (because of a scarcity-minded view that asserts people can’t simultaneously be positive and productive, and that I’m serving a greater good by dragging them into negativity so they’ll work harder to avoid it). I’ll leave that up to them, if they want to adopt that view and that path. I’ve come to believe that at the base of life, there’s a more pleasant premise.

After decades of focus on learning and striving, I began to question what I was learning and striving for, when the question of what is objectively valid is up in the air, given the unknown breadth of existence, my short time in a body, and the limitations of my physical senses.

It may be semantics, but I’d rather focus on experiencing, rather than learning and striving. Even though I may learn and strive, I’ve decided I’m here for the experience of it–to be as present as I can during my temporary stay.

That’s not to say you should do the same. The beauty of our ambiguous, seemingly purposeless reality is that we get to explore our boundaries and craft our own purpose.

Why am I here? Why do I exist?

Those questions evoke a mess of philosophies and religions, a giant web of wagging fingers and unprovable conclusions. Juxtapose that against the seeming insignificance of my extremely limited perspective in a possibly infinite breadth of space-time, and it seems I am able–until that (probably) unresolvable ambiguity is finally resolved–able to define my own purpose and meaning.

Perhaps that ambiguity is by design. Perhaps I am meant to decide for myself.

Admittedly, I can only base this off personal anecdotes, both negative and positive, but I believe that without self-examination, we become more reactive than proactive, and subsequently waste our ability to initiate and create.

There’s tons of value in identifying what I don’t like, and taking measures to avoid/minimize it in the future. But I don’t want to define life through my aversions. After living most of my life in exhausting paranoia, distrust, and judgmental analysis, I’ve found I’d rather trust in an underlying benevolence and positivity, even though that could be argued as foolish. I want to believe that if I direct time and focus toward my dreams–even if it’s only a few minutes here and there–that existence will take note and assist me with synchronicity. Maybe I’m wrong, inefficient, or confirmation-biased, but that seems to get much better results than my previous states of mind. It’s also less stressful and way more fulfilling.

My unavoidable death seems to make life into a time-bounded game. Over the scope of eons (still a blip in the eye of the cosmos) our worries become smaller and smaller, until the simpler things turn from tired cliches into the strongest measure of my personal experience–being present, appreciating the moment, and being genuinely nice to the best of my ability.

For most of my life, I’ve focused on everything going wrong (or the potential for it to do so), wallowing in paranoia, condemnation, and exhausting vigilance. Nowadays, I focus on calibrating my perception toward solutions and good fortune, priming my subconscious to seek more of the same. In the cosmically short blip that is my life, where due to my incredibly limited senses, I can only detect a tiny fraction of greater reality, I’d like to focus on positive potential as much as I can. Eventually, maybe someone will create an existential balance sheet, weighing all pros and cons from the smallest quantum value to the largest possible scale, and definitively make the case that I should view the world as inherently cruel (or random to the point of cruelty when considering the entirety of reality). Until then, I’m fine with being a happy idiot.

Existence could be benevolent or malevolent. There’s plenty of ways to assert either possibility. When it comes to this subject, I like to keep my outlook general and vague, so I don’t stall my brain with a rat’s nest of specifics. So long as there isn’t definitive proof–an inarguable ontology that produces 100% predictability and accounts for all of causality–I’m going to happily believe in a benevolent reality. It may be unprovable, possibly objectively foolish, but for me it serves a practical purpose: instead of constantly condemning externalities or rotting in paranoia, it encourages me to trust in the long-term good, to be as present as possible, and to enjoy the moment. The idea of an underlying benevolence might be subjective, but for me, personally, it is objective enough.