In my experience, the stories we tell ourselves (about ourselves) are some of the most powerful spells we can cast on our behavior and perceived quality of life. That’s why I think it’s productive to look inward, and examine what I’d like to adopt as a narrative.

Ironically, I find my optimal state of self-perception arises from stillness and present-moment focus (where the perception is directed away from the surface self, and arguably allows a visceral perception of the greater self). A sense of well-being spontaneously arises, without any prompting whatsoever, which leads to me feeling good about myself for no tangible reason.

Maybe that’s the true self, and everything else is a restricted narrative. I don’t know. I suspect it’s not meant to be known, at least from an intellectual perspective.

In my experience, the quality and direction of my inner state is a big determinant of whether or not I enjoy my life. Outwardly, I may have to oppose or contradict, out of practicality or imminent concern. If that comes from a place of shortage–desire to control, out of insecurity or egotism (maybe they’re the same at a deeper level?)–it only seems to perpetuate more shortage-focused scenarios, where I must constantly control and worry about how to control what comes next, like some hellish game of whack-a-mole.

Inwardly, if I abide in a place of authentic well-being, regardless of whether I’m in outward conflict, it seems I avoid this trap, or pass through it unscathed. So that’s what I like to focus on, even if it might seem foolish to others.

As part and parcel of this world, it seems we are all destined to fall at one point or another. The interesting thing to me is when a shift in perspective turns reactivity into empowered responsiveness–when we begin to ascend instead of constantly falling down.

That shift in perspective, in my opinion, might be the crux of free will. It might be the only true choice that we ever really have.

For a long time, I was pessimistic by default. The I realized the appeal of pessimism–that I could minimize disappointment through negativity–is still disappointing, and makes for a dreary existence.

When I deal with my negativity, it seem to be my identification with it that determines how fast it leaves.

Of course the emotion is me, but it isn’t me in my entirety. So I let it be felt, because otherwise, I would be denying a part of myself. At the same time, I try not to prolong it by rationalizing why it should or shouldn’t be there. In my experience, that just gives it a reason to persist–I get tied up in countering the rationalization, countering the counter, and so on and so forth.

It’s already there, so I let it be. And in turn, I find it does the same (maybe it’s following my lead because it’s literally me, though not in my entirety). Then, with that expanded allowance, the rest of me is allowed to rebalance the whole.

For decades, I unthinkingly accepted the premise that fulfillment was achieved through intellect and action. Then I noticed quantifiable success didn’t guarantee fulfillment, within myself or even among the wildly successful. Then I noticed if my focus was on being present and empty, I wouldn’t stay that way–well-being inevitably rushed in, for no external reason whatsoever. So now, that’s what I focus on.

I still have goals and activities and pursuits, but I’ve come to realize that my focus is paramount. As far as the actual source of fulfillment, you could give it any number of names. I just prefer to trust that it’s there.