Do you ever wonder why you were born…
into a certain family
in a certain country
into a certain social group
into a set of circumstances
into a particular timeline
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I have wondered about that since the ability to wonder about those sort of things was enabled in my system.
Why have I wondered about it? What made me wonder about it? Was it due to the family, country, social group, circumstances, timeline, etc, into which I was born?
I do recall regularly being informed by others that I was lucky – but the way people said this to me didn’t make me feel lucky. Their statements about my ‘lucky’ were delivered with anger, bitterness, envy, as a warning, as a criticism – I didn’t deserve what I had because I hadn’t earned it, I had simply been given it because I was born into it. I was a roulette ball which had skittered around the wheel of fortune until it fell into a lucky number slot.
If I ever complained about anything, my mother in particular made sure to point out that I didn’t have the right to complain because other people in the world were suffering and would be more than grateful to have what I had and they wouldn’t complain about it.
If other people view you as being lucky, you are not allowed to do things like complain, cry, be mad, sad, or any of that, those are reserved for people who have earned the right to do those things.
From very early on in my living of life what I was allowed to experience and express grew smaller and smaller, while what I wasn’t allowed to think, feel, be, grew bigger and bigger.
My family was made up of two narcissist parents. I was an only child – wasn’t I lucky!
It’s a matter of perception and perspective, which in my experience shifts continuously (as the world turns, as storms hit, as the dust settles). I both agree and disagree with my lucky simultaneously depending upon where I’m standing, sitting, lying (like on the ceiling), when I look at myself, and through which filter I’m using when looking, tunnel-vision, blinkers, rose-coloured glasses, fish-eye lens, microscope, rain-wiper goggles, or X-rays specks.
I once read an opinion, written by someone (I think it was a famous author or politician from the days of yore) who seemed to have a beef against philosophers, which stated that those who had the time to ponder the meaning of life, deeply and at length, were privileged twats who didn’t know they were privileged twats whose privilege meant that they couldn’t possibly know anything about living life.
I read that opinion around the time when I started delving into the theories of others about the meaning of life. Throughout my explorations I couldn’t shake those words (even though I seemed to have shaken off the name of the person who said them), and to this day I still feel hear them.
The fact that I have the time to write a blog post about this… and wonder about things like this… means I am lucky. The fact that I feel reticent to say that… is because there’s always this sense of lucky being a crime you’ve committed against others just by being born into a certain the family, country, social group, circumstance, timeline, etc.
You’re a baby with a lollipop.
There are certain things that one human just can’t share with other humans – one of those is our luck. Sure there are times when it does appear that someone else’s luck does rub off onto others, and we do tend to feel luckier and unluckier around certain people, but what is really happening in those moments?
Is it a shift in attitude, and that attitude shift changes our experience?
When we’re feeling good about ourselves, do we attract more good to us? Sometimes yes, but not if your feel good attracts a narcissist’s attention, or someone else who wants to wipe your smile off your face.
When we’re feeling bad about ourselves, do we attract more bad to us? I’m not sure if it works quite like that or if what happens is that our feel bad makes us reject any good which comes our way because we’re certain we don’t deserve it, we’re afraid of the responsibility which comes with it – what if we drop it and break it, what if our treasure attracts thieves, or we just can’t see it as good.
Why do those who already have plenty of stuff have more stuff drop into their laps, and even get offered free stuff… while those who are in desperate need tend to stay stuck in desperately needing mode?
Why do ‘winners’ keep winning and ‘losers’ keep losing?
Is it the luck of the draw or something else at work?
Who are the winners and who are the losers?
Are some people better at playing the game than others?
Or is it more about how we view this thing called living life and this person known as me, myself, I within this thing called living life?
clip from Listen to Love (aka My Wife’s Having and Affair This Week). Excellent drama about choices, relationships, actions and consequences, and what happens when you share your life’s dramas on social media.
The other day I started up a game of Minecraft – I’m lucky to have the luxury to waste time playing computer games, I realise that. I tend to only play it when I’m anxious about something and need to stop myself from spiraling into a fear vortex.
I don’t play it ‘properly’… if there is such a thing (depends on who you ask, if you bother asking). I play it in ‘creative’ and ‘peaceful’ modes, the former means I can fly and have unlimited resources, the latter means there are no monsters.
In the latest update of the vanilla version of the game, they’ve added turtles – you can breed them, and when you do they lay a cluster of eggs. In monster mode, the monsters will seek out those eggs and stomp on them until they’re crushed – it takes ages for those eggs to hatch. I don’t need that kind of stress.
What I like to do is find a Village and improve it for the Villagers – even though they don’t appreciate my improvements. I don’t need them to. Although I do feel good about freeing them when they’re trapped in a house because it spawned buried in the side of a mountain or under a sand dune, and they seem happy about it. I also enjoy giving them access to areas which they couldn’t get to due to a cliff or ravine. Once in a while they seem to appreciate my improvements, emitting hearts and spawning little Villagers. One time the Village got so crowded that… I moved on. My work there was done.
I find playing the game is useful in shifting my thinking, which is helpful in shifting my attitude. And sometimes I get a bonus insight, like I did when I was staring at the world select screen and it occurred to me that the words and option – Play Selected World – was one way of looking at birth.
We’re playing a selected world.
Did we select it?
If we did, we most likely don’t recall doing that. Although there are stories of people recalling doing it… but those stories always seem to belong to someone who isn’t us, which means we’re probably of the opinion that they’re making that shit up. But what if they’re not?
Some are playing in creative mode. Some are playing in peaceful mode. Some have enabled cheats. Some have given themselves a bonus chest at the beginning. Some are playing survival mode. Some are playing adventure mode. Some are playing hard core mode and maybe regretting the decision, but what’s been chosen has been chosen until it’s game over.
Some are playing with mods added to the vanilla version of the application. Some are purist vanilla players because the mods may be too demanding of the RAM of their machine.
Some are playing with others online. Some are loners.
Some are building castles, mansions, kingdoms for themselves. Some are setting up factories. Some are mining the eff out of the earth. Some are treasure seeking. Some are hoarders. Some are monster hunters.
And so on…
This selected world we’ve chosen to play…if we did actually choose to play it, why did we choose to play it?
Are we getting out of it what we expected?
Did I choose to grow up with parents who were narcissists? If I did… looking at it that way turns the tables on the whole experience. If I did make this choice… why? What have I gained from it? Or was it less about gain and more about loss? What was I trying to lose? Have I lost it?
Speaking of Minecraft reminds me of my little buddy though now he is not little anymore. He is the nerdy nephew of my landlady and a TCK too. Both parents are Chinese but due to work the family resides in several cities in SE Asia since he was 2yrs old. The family comes back every summer school holidays. He and his mum would stay with my landlady during this time. Hmm talking about him brings back fond memories…
Those years when he was younger, he would always have me watch late night TV with him. Yup cartoons and kid’s TV lol… Well, I was his preferred TV companion. It started one night, probably after a console game, he urged me to watch an interesting cartoon and once I obliged it became my summer ritual the next couple of years. Whenever I’m working late or having a night out, he would have an adult call me to check if I’ll back in time for TV. I like that bonding and called him my little buddy. He talked a lot while watching TV and Im equally delighted by his babbling and those kid’s show (my favourite was The Suite Life on Deck and Wizards of Waverly Place is interesting too).
Sometimes listening to kid talk can be quite enlightening. Their simplistic way of thinking is often to the point and practical, not like our grown minds made rigid by the society structures and laws we live in. How nice if we could return to that age of innocence…
I love the profile pic you’re using for TheReverist (and the new name too)!!! Very stylish!
Your little buddy story is wonderful. I can feel the fond memory in the way you talk about him, and your time together.
It’s very relaxing being around children because you don’t have to do any of that adult bs. You can just be as you are, and say whatever you’re thinking… but you do have to be careful if other adults are around as the honesty can be a bit too much for them. My MiL nearly fainted one time when my niece (who was about 6 then) asked me if I liked her and I said – sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. My niece totally understood but my MiL was all – you can’t say that to a child! But that’s exactly what you can say to a child, and what a child will often say to you – because children sometimes like you and sometimes they don’t, it’s adults you can’t say that sort of thing to.
I think we can sort of return to a type of age of innocence, but first we have to remove the layers of crust which have built up over our core selves.
One of my fav quotes about that kind of thing:
“Universities incline wits to sophistry and affectation.” – Francis Bacon
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Thank you for your compliments! 🙂
I see you’ve changed your header image. The previous had the girl upturned on the ceiling seemed to me like letting whatever that should be drop fall to ground (other than having topple the normal view). This new header of your gravatar stretched on the sides resembles a stage curtain (partially revealing a face behind) at closing/opening of an act in a play.
I always like visuals n graphics so will tend to read them. The previous image was cleverly interesting and this new image…Hmm, this changes the ambience of your blog altogether 😉 Looks good!
Thank you for sharing your perspective 🙂 I hadn’t thought of it as a stage curtain… that’s very intriguing!
I’ve often thought about whether we made some sort of choice about the life we have. Of course, to some extent, we do from day to day. I made choices that I knew weren’t particularly good ones, especially when I was in my salad days. Way lead on to way. There were other choices I could have made and those would have lead to other ways.
But it’s also prescribed, too. Most of what we are is in some way inherited – it then becomes up to us to deal with what we have, to play that hand even if it’s a shitty one and no one wants to throw one or two good cards your way.
When I was about 10 I went through a period where I created countries – usually islands, with towns and cities and farms. Sometimes I would draw them. Sometimes I would build them outside in the dirt with bits and pieces of whatever I could find. There were roads and trees and schools and stores. I loved it. That memory only just resurfaced this minute – I had forgotten how much fun I had with that. 🙂
I love that memory! ❤
When I was at boarding school there was this group of girls who would spend all their free time building villages in the beds of the school's garden. It was like a fairy village. So beautiful! I was very in awe of them, their imagination and their building skillz. They weren't cliquey about it, anyone could join in.
You're one of those girls!!!
Thank you so much for sharing your memory… the thing is, it's still fun, and the fun spills over and out into the world thanks to your choosing to share the memory 🙂
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Thank you. 🙂 Yup – I’m one of those girls. 🙂 It definitely was a very pleasant memory when it popped up again and such a nice surprise because I had completely forgotten about it.
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