grey > black/white

My parents have always taught me from the beginning of life, from my childhood, from my very first memories, that life is ultimately a fight between black and white.

To them, there is essentially nothing else.
For, they believe that everything we do, how we behave is clearly black and white, without that smudging of colour (or lack of colour) into a soothing and neutral grey.

I can hardly fault them for attempting to teach us the importance of morality and making the right choices. Certainly those teachings are engraved into our minds and hearts as memories of old.

But for me, more recently especially, I've come to the conclusion that life really isn't just decisive black and whites. There are these shades of greys that lay between the black and white, and it is in those shades that we define ourselves.

There is absolutely nothing simple about life.

This does not mean, of course, that I believe we should abandon all systems of morality. The law is enacted to keep individuals safe, and is there for a very good reason.

However, there are certain arenas of life, where nothing our parents teach us can prepare use for the difficulty of choices we must make.

Perhaps I am not articulating this well, but basically, life isn't anything like what we are taught.

I was led to believe that choosing the right thing is remarkably simple and should come naturally to someone with a strong conscious.

Nothing in my life teaching touched on the right or wrong of war, and most importantly, I was not taught enough of the consequences and repercussions that individual actions have.

Although I would never turn to a Harry Potter book for adages of wisdom, one line from Dumbledore has stuck with me very clearly. It went something along the lines of, "It the choices we make that define who we are".

thought....

I think most people, especially family members, want more than I can give them.

They complain that I am cold, difficult to talk to, and have walls built up.

I see their point to some extent...I find them difficult to talk to, and mainly because they are boring.

I don't have the interesting in attempting to care about their lives.

The issue here is the fact that they take everything so personally. When I can't force myself to relate in mundane discussions with them, they simply assume it's because I'm selfish, stubborn, only interested in personal things that I take delight in. While the last assumption is somewhat true, I feel that the other offenses people take at my attitude are wrong and unfair.

They simply do not know me, and nor do I care to let them.

Merry Christmas/Death Is All Around

The windows in the rooms here are huge. They give a beautiful view of the garden in the front and the street down which few cars drive on Christmas Day, the biggest holiday of the year.

Snow is falling down, sporadically, huge flakes circling and dancing in the sky, and the sun is shining brightly, clearly through the snow.

She sits upright in her chair with a mask on her face so she can breathe, looking out the window, and quietly meditating, waiting.

To me, it seems strange that she can sit so peacefully, waiting for death to come. Perhaps because she has known for a few days that her body is irreparably damaged, a war zone of cancer and pain, destruction just lurking.

(Listening to - Dying to Live Again [Hedley])

I imagine myself in that position, and think that I would be anxiously attempting to get up from that chair, walk the long, fluorescent lit halls, instead of sitting with acceptance. Anything to escape death or put it off, pretend it is not near.

Even with the security of faith that leads me to believe the future beyond death is beautiful, there is still this overwhelming and suffocating fear of what is beyond our world.

So, So far...

The 24th year has not been very successful, mainly because of family issues.

My older sister who had such sage advice for me during times of storminess is too far away for me too talk to. She does not consistently answer her emails and is never at hand for immediate help. I cannot fault her for having built her own life in a country across the world, but somehow the need for her has grown.

My older brother remains passive, easy to get along with, but unable to assist me with issues that are threatening all around.

The rest are too young to understand what is going on, and even my friends are busy with their own lives and far too immature to completely grasp the situation.

Basically, living with my parents has become unbearable and I need to move out and get my life without them poking their fingers into the piles that I have made.

They insist that they are always right, that I am wrong, that others have a far better and astute vision of life than I do, and for some reason I need their approval even though I hate the fact that I need aforementioned approval.

I rarely show any vulnerability to them and there is this brittle wall between us that I cannot be bothered to climb or knock down, because at this point in time, what is on the other side is not welcoming nor beguiling.

I suppose what it really boils down to is the fact that they think so unworthily of me, as though I am such a flawed person and as though I am actively destroying their lives and intending to lead those around me down an evil road headed straight for hell.