Never Forget to Remember

Some of us, find it easier and safer, to stay locked to the negative. They jettison the positive experiences so as not to corrupt their loyalty to the hurt. They stay true to the trauma. They erect their behaviours around that trauma, like memorials to the loss: the loss of innocence. The betrayal of trust.

They root their identities firmly in that trauma. They scar themselves with newer, fresher pains, to keep themselves from straying from their secret vows to the trauma.

They must never forget. To forget would be to betray. To forget would be to blaspheme the holy name of the pain.

They parade magic charms around to make sure they don’t forget to remember. They tattoo themselves with their loyalties to make sure they don’t forget to remember. They march defiantly, with banners and flags unfurled, and make sure everyone else knows the reality of their pain. These are the muffled cries of loss, expressed with rage and triumph. Everyone else must know. Everyone else must hear this.

But, all the stories matter, every single story. All our loaded words and ways; all of them matter. In some strange meaningless way.

Backup Plans

I have been learning to live with as much flexibility as possible. I have been learning to accept the unpredictability of life, and human behaviour. I have been learning to have back up plans. It has not been easy, but, it has been deeply rewarding even though I haven’t, and probably never will, fully master it.

Oftentimes we confront the unpredictability, of circumstances and people, with the rage of our disappointed expectations. We project our rage against the offender, who ought to have facilitated the world we wish existed.

The world will always, at some time or other, run against the grain of our ego. The world will always, at some time or other, go against the grain of our will.

How do we face up to it? Do we?

It seems to me, that we more commonly resist this kind of engagement with life, and instead continue to live in a world-of-unpredictable-humans, heavily armed and weighed down with expectations, with no backup plan. We instead chose to live in the abstract world of our rights to this or that, and the shoulds about the circumstances that we would have preferred, and the oughts about the ways we wished others behaved.

We sit there feigning and claiming innocence, blaming the world around us for not being better than it is. We can continue with this for as long as we want, but, sooner or later you, me, we, have got to deal with it.

Sustainable Living

Sustainability is a word that most of us are now familiar with. We have heard it mostly used in relation to what is perceived by many to be a climate crisis. I believe that sustainability is a beneficial guide for us, as a species, but also as individuals. It is not an all-encompassing answer to the problems of the world, although I don’t think one of those exists, but, it is useful.

I’ll highlight two kinds of economies…deficit-based economies, and resource-based economies. In the former, any growth that these countries experience is fundamentally fragile, and as it expands, the bubble always threatens to burst. This results in economic catastrophe and collapse. Every penny that is spent is owed. The government owes, the banks owe, and everyone ends up writing bouncy cheques. There is no foundation to the figures, which becomes nothing more than an abstract proposition of consumer confidence and projected worth.

The other kind of economy is resource-based.  This is, what I see, as a smarter economic model, as it doesn’t gamble with what it doesn’t have. It works with its own resources, its growth is stable and consistent, and it does not have the fickle confidence of the deficit-junkies, who are buoyed up on the ether of the last financial high.

This economic insight has a lot to say about what we humans get up to behind the scenes. There is a term in the world of psychology: cognitive dissonance, and essentially, this is the psychological equivalent of a deficit-based economy. This is where the idea we have of ourselves doesn’t match up to who we are. We can sustain this disparity for some amount of time, but, depending on how great the distance is within ourselves, it will eventually give way. Some might manage to maintain this inner gulf until the day they die, but, it isn’t something I would aspire to, or encourage anyone to give a try. It is a massive drain on our inner resources trying to maintain overly grand ideas of ourselves. We cannot keep doing it. It will eventually ruin the things we think we are trying to maintain.

Just like the population of Easter Island, that were so busy building impressive statues of human faces that they didn’t notice they were wiping out all the trees in the process. They destroyed the civilisation they thought they were revering. They killed the thing they loved. There is a big price to pay for big ideas.

So, I am trying to promote psychological sustainability. Look at what you have, cultivate your soul and grow what you need, and you will weather life’s storms with much more ease.

Ditch the faces, and keep the forests.

Selective Hearing

We have all heard of the term selective hearing. It is commonly understood that people, some more than others, can hear what they want to hear, when they want to hear it, and play deaf when it suits them.

However, I want to take this commonly accepted notion, and open it up to include other things, because I think the act of selective hearing sheds light on other very human traits.

Selective Attention

Most of us, unless we have chosen to avoid it altogether, are surrounded by people, things, happenings and events. We cannot take everything in at once, and so, smartly, we are able to select what we think is important to focus on at any given time. This is an incredible ability that we have, and it happens so quickly, that most of us are entirely oblivious to what we have done…yet, we do it all the time, especially when we are out and about in the world of stimulation. We also choose, what not to focus on, for whatever reason…repulsion or avoidance. We are separating the wheat from the chaff so to speak.

Some of us focus intensely, so as to exclude as many other variants as possible…this is the kind of focus, that is sometimes romanticised as passion, but is often better described as obsession. This reduced focus, can be acted out in a variety of ways, but the crux of it is to limit one’s encounters with variables [variables being people]. We all do this to some extent, especially when we are needing to recover from having been out in the world of stimulation. We recuperate by losing ourselves in smaller, more-limited worlds, such as cleaning, television watching, fishing, instrument playing or computer tinkering.

Others, like to keep their attention as flitting as possible, not letting it rest on anything for too long. This is what I like to refer to as intentional scattiness. See no evil…feel no responsibility. Again, we may all do this from time to time as it suits us, but, we are essentially using the survival skills that are built into us as human-animals.

Selective Memory

This is the process whereby we start editing the story of ourselves. We have already made decisions about where to be, and where not to be; about who to be with, and who not to be with…and we have paid attention to what has suited us. But, on top of this, we then chuck out a lot of stuff as we internalise the things we experience. We start whittling down the experiences in a way that sits best with our idea of ourselves, and how the world is around us. This is like an actor rehearsing their lines before going on stage…they might read the words out loud, or into themselves, or write them down in journals or blogs. These are the pre-stage preparations that help us get ready for the performance, which we hope to go smoothly.

Selective Telling

This is the externalising of the rehearsed lines…the performance. Once we have swallowed down the medicine of our own memories, as bitter tasting as they may be, we then start to reaffirm those memories, by repeating our now-edited accounts of the experiences that forged them. Every time we repeat the story, we repeat an incantation, by which we reassure ourselves that the world is the way we think it is, and we are who we think we are. We ask for the nods and approval of others around us, as we tell ourselves these stories. If they do not nod and approve, we distance ourselves from them…they are not our friends. Our friends nod. We say we want to be understood, but, we are really saying that we want to be understood in the way that we understand ourselves. If they don’t align, they don’t understand.

So, what am I getting at here with all this babble? I am suggesting that the popular account of the human experience, is one that turns a blind eye to the script, stage, curtains, makeup and lighting. We talk about ourselves and our lives, and the things that concern us, as if they were factual. Our desire to convince others of what we feel and how important those feelings are, lures us into evoking the name of Truth and Fact.

Behind the scenes there is so much going on, like a busy production room. Of course, this is not for public viewing, and for a lot of people it would ruin the performance. I am trying to say that we are all story tellers. We are all participant and active, in the story of our lives, even if the story we tell is one of helplessness, and hopelessness. Of course, the helpless and hopeless, would never want to admit that they have anything to do with the scripting of that particular play.

We are not the performance.
We are not just the performance.
We are the script writer, the director, the actor, and the performance.
So, what kind of story are we telling?

Staving off the Hunger

Connection junkies come in all shapes and sizes, as many shapes and sizes as there are people. Some connection junkies are very obvious in how they play out their addiction. They cling in very open ways to almost everyone they come into contact with. They lift people up onto fantastical pedestals where the innocent pawn’s humanity is irrelevant. Even though they may hardly know you, they may have high expectations of how you are going to live up to your role. Of course, this behaviour leads to many betrayals and letdowns, and creates a museum of Judases.

However, there are other less obvious connection junkies, whose behaviour almost seems to suggest that they are not addicted to human connection. These are the people that rarely socialise, and isolate themselves for long periods of time. Their behaviour seems to suggest that they don’t need people and don’t need human company, as if they don’t desire that kind of stimulation.

This behaviour is like a magic charm, whereby, the participant hopes to convince them self of that very thing. They starve themselves of something that all human beings require in some measure for an ordinary balanced life. It may seem, and they would be adamant about this, that they do not require what others require, as if they are wired differently. However, the truth of the addiction will always slip through in other behind-the-scene behaviours.


Often, with these closet connection junkies, they satisfy their needs for company and affection, and their desire to care, nurture or parent, with non-humans [pets or strays]. I am not suggesting acts of bestiality here, just innocent acts of much needed affection. These interactions with non-humans stave off the desires for human interaction, and more importantly, avert the likelihood of misunderstandings, obligations and social guilt that the person has encountered in their past.


Instead of going on a journey, whereby the person re-learns, re-evaluates, and re-lives new patterns, that shed social guilt and the inevitable dissatisfaction that comes with it, they enter a stasis. Within in this stasis, nothing changes, and the person does not grow. The instincts remain the same, and so, when the person does venture out into the populated world again, they encounter all the same kinds of old familiar feelings; the kind of feelings that had them hiding away in the first place.


It is not that animals are much different from humans [they eat and shit and fuck, they are competitive, and they seek to meet their needs at all cost] the only difference is that the connection junkie projects less expectation onto them. They are spared the pedestals and the significance. 

The connection junkie may claim that they don’t expect anything from humans, but, often this is a protective statement, much like the person that exclaims, “I don’t give a shit!” when they blatantly do. “I don’t expect anything” covers up the disappointed fantasy of the better parent, which then gets transferred on to the better friend, or the better partner.



Underneath the numb façade lie catacombs, full of the bones of interred wishes.

Back to the Drawing Board

It seems to me, that we humanoids often live life, on the basis of some kind of primordial blueprint about how life ought to be. This includes all the fittings and fixtures, which in this case, are the people and circumstances. We often walk around like frustrated architects, grumbling about how the building isn’t going according to the plan we have. The real thing doesn’t match the blueprint.

The thing is, when it comes to our own lives, we don’t have any builders working for us. We might like to have a team of builders and craftsmen, who are devoted to helping us accomplish our goals, but we don’t.

And so, it seems like the building site of our lives is one, where all the others around us, have their own blueprints. Their blueprints don’t match ours. The only person that is going to be able to build anything like what you have in your plan is you.

If you do attempt to keep living your life, along the blueprint-builders line, you will become increasingly frustrated, as it becomes increasingly apparent, that those other people on your site, aren’t actually there to help you. They’re not even there to make you a cup of tea, although they might.

You might also find that the designs on the blueprints you were using, on the basis that all those other people around you were there to assist, are no longer achievable. You can either grind yourself into the ground, trying to build the mansion you had in mind, or, you can downsize and build something that won’t kill you.

So, what does this mean for us?

It means, we might become less frustrated, annoyed, angry and disappointed, if we stop operating from the pretext that life ought to be a particular way, or that the people around us, ought to be pleasing or appeasing us, in some way or other. They aren’t. They simply aren’t.

It also means that we might want to reassess the standards that we are judging our lives by. If we are building our happiness, pleasure, contentment or satisfaction, on the foundation of others conforming with our ideals, then we are setting ourselves up for a life of frustration and resentment, with at least a little sprinkling of bitterness. 

Some of us have already realised that there aren't any others involved in our building schemes, and are now mournfully sitting with their crumpled up blueprints, looking listless and forlorn.

So, what are we to do?

It means assessing and reassessing the circumstances of our lives, letting go of at least some, if not all of our weightier wishes, and start working with what we’ve got.

It means that we may well ditch the Corinthian portico, plinth and pillars, and build a log cabin.

Taking Risks at the Bookies

I was walking past a Bookies the other day, and I saw a guy walk in to place a bet, but, before he went in he locked his busted-up bicycle up to the railing.

I thought this was a great example of the often-contradictory ways we approach risks.

The same man that was going in to the bookies to hand over his hard earned money, in the hope of his proverbial horse coming in; locked up his bicycle securely to the railings. Losing his bike was obviously a risk he didn't want to take.

This is conjecture, but, there is a good chance that he spends more money gambling on horses, than it would cost to replace the rickety bicycle he locked up; and probably a few times over.

The thought it provoked was about how we often deal with risks in different ways. There are risks we feel that are acceptable, and there are often risks that we take in our lives that reveal hidden contradictions that we would probably prefer to ignore.

We are all gamblers. We are all doing secret little exchanges. These exchanges involve the trading of risks.

Imagine someone, anyone, and imagine that they are interested in doing something new, but are afraid of causing upset to some one they care deeply about. This person risks not discovering their own personal satisfaction, and instead, risks living constantly in that fragile, thinly iced world, where they feel like a prisoner to the feelings of parents or partners.

Imagine someone, anyone, who feels something very strongly about a relationship they are in, but is terrified of rocking the boat, and upsetting the status-quo if they revealed what they really felt to those around them. This person risks not living openly as they are, and instead risks living a life of masks and window dressing.

Do you see what I am getting at?

I am not suggesting that we all go bungy-jumping and backpacking around the world. But, I am suggesting that if bungy-jumping and backpacking are something you have always wanted to do, but you have been afraid of what other people will think, then you might want to reconsider the exchange of risks.

Maybe you want to go work with Orangutans in Borneo. Maybe you want to become an investigative journalist, writing stories that mean something to you. Maybe you want to go dig wells to provide people with uncontaminated drinking water. Maybe you want to quit the job that has been sucking your soul dry for far too long, and try working for yourself. Maybe you want to go see the world. Maybe you want to ask that person out on a date, that person who makes your heart beat faster every time you see each other. Maybe you want to reveal what you really think, and what you really feel to the people you care about. Maybe there is a relationship that is fractured that you would love to heal.

I am not saying that there is any guaranteed outcome to any of these ventures. They are indeed, all ventures, and they are indeed all risks, but, in the exchange of risks, we may want to look at what it is we are risking in return for maintaining the status-quo; what we are risking for maintaining our habits.

Let's not risk living an unsatisfying life. We only have one.