Honesty & Dreams

Philosophy about life:

I believe that human life is interesting. Very interesting. Somehow humans have a level of intelligence that perhaps is exceptional because of our ability to build tools. Building tools requires calculations, theories, imagination, labor, precision, development, teamwork, observation, and creativity.

We live, surrounded by the tools we’ve built to make our lives cleaner, easier, aesthetically pleasing, efficient, comfortable, and safe.

My whole life,  I had been completely immersed in my surroundings that I never thought about my life from the perspective that does not have me at the center.

Me me me me me me me me me me me me me.

Who am I?

Such question is not an easy question to answer. Some people may have a quick answer to it, but further thought and observation makes the question a difficult one to answer.

Right now, I believe that my job is to work at bettering the lives of others because I exist right now because others have created tools and created societal systems to keep me safe, healthy, and be educated.

The ailments of the people around the world, who are already surrounded by tools are interesting to say the least. Some say gut bacteria have correlation to mental illness, some say genetics, and some say a poor philosophy.

I say poor philosophy.

Right now, even with my on-the-resort type of lifestyle at an Ivy League school in America I am feeling lonely, unexcited to wake up in the morning, unable to smile or laugh genuinely, and feel a passion for something.

As a child, aside from my family life which was quite stable and full of home cooked meals and family outings, I had not been quite exposed to much of the outside world. I went to school, I was expected to do well in school because it was my duty. I didn’t have a chance to think about something else, something new beyond what I was exposed to. At this gap of my deeply human yearning for something that I was not aware of, media took deep root.

Movies, TV shows, fiction, science fiction, young adult fiction, the dramas of the lives of those around us, exposed me mainly to sex and the dreamy relationship between a man and a woman.

I believed that perfect, sweet, tender, honest, warm relationship is what makes people happy. And what I should strive for. I had to figure out a way to be beautiful, sexy, fun, cool, generous, quirky and anything else possible to find and keep a man to love me.

Thinking from a anthropological perspective, humans are evolving and our cultures are different regionally and periodically. So the media that I was exposed to, that promoted romantic, forever love and a man to sweep me to a big house with pretty clothes, accessories, and beauty care, and a lifetime of enjoying the love between us is a small snippet of the culture that I live in.

So after realizing that the dream that I wanted, the dream that I believed and felt was everything in life, was simply a part of culture, human biology, and sociological trend felt strange.

I am to get a job? I may not have someone to love me in that way? I may have multiple lovers? I may die? I may grow old? I may not be rich?


Which led me into observation mode, and the realization that yes, I need to work hard in using my intelligence and personality to help people and receive help from people. Yes, I may not be rich. Yes, I may have to work full time. Yes, I may never find, keep or feel the perfect tender love. And everything else that I have and want are extra. I’m free to choose how I want my life to be. There is no criteria for success or goodness.

So what? Now my life is a life of practicality? Where is the dreamy part of life, the emotions, the drama?

I have not found my dream. There are small stories we carry with us, times of true happiness evoked by our human-ness. Perhaps those are the times we share, for those times we live. Perhaps dreams aren’t there to be worked for. Dreams happen serendipitiously, and we are left wondering… Was it a dream? Did that happen to me?

And we walk away wishing it were a dream, and maybe convinced it was a dream, or we forget it like a dream because it was just a moment, or several moments, that did not last, that did not save us, or lift us from the practicality of life. The fragility of life that we sustain day by day. Not thinking about the heart that beats in our body, or thinking about the bones and joints moving.

Perhaps that is why the dreams we share, are the ones that we long for, the ones we forget, the ones we remember, the ones we celebrate, the ones we share, the ones we pretend to have forgotten, and the ones we cannot grasp.

What happened in your dream?


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