I find it interesting how malleable my belief is, relative to whatever I’m feeling in the present moment. If I’m feeling positive, I truly believe in potential and possibility. If I’m feeling negative, hopelessness and cynicism taint everything I do.

I work with this dynamic by focusing on allowance and validation of whatever I’m feeling, which leads back to neutrality/emptiness/flow. After a bit of abidance in this state, I’ll naturally experience a default positivity.

It’s easy to argue we’re stuck in a zero-sum existence. However, no one has definitively explained the nature of our reality, the fundamental truth behind consciousness, quantum phenomena, and whether or not we’re stuck in a simulation. In other words, there’s still a lot of wiggle room that allows us to choose our individual perspective. So on occasion, I may have to pretend I’m a crab in a bucket, but I refuse to believe I must always be paranoid, that I always have to watch out for the other shoe to drop, that I need to step on others and prevent their ascent so I can wallow in my relative height.

I think of the real estate in my mind as exclusively mine, so instead of planting seeds of fear and insecurity, constantly reacting to an overgrowth of negativity, I’d rather be present and stay open to opportunities that bloom in my path.

As much as my younger self would have argued and scoffed, I have come to believe the default state of the universe is positive and benevolent. Because when I succeed in emptying my mind, I don’t stay empty–a feeling of wellbeing inevitably follows, sometimes to the point of psychedelic bliss.

But that isn’t definitive according to data, experiments, or scrutinized theory, so it could easily be wrong. I just enjoy more fun and ease when I don’t have to be paranoid, constantly guarding against a malicious or random existence. At this point, I no longer care if it’s outwardly foolish, I’d rather abide in trust and fulfillment.

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.