Something to think about

Over the years, Evolutionary Psychology has become a subject of keen interest to me. It is fascinating to see how every human behavior/ drive/ instinct/ emotion can be explained in terms of Survival and Procreation. It sounds simplistic, and perhaps it is. And that is the beauty of it!

A very important factor to one's survival (and sanity, to take a retreat to the familiar road) is the locus of control - the belief that things are in one's control. It has been well studied that the level of stress one experiences is correlated with one's locus on cotrol - an internal locus of control results in low stress levels, as opposed to an external locus of control, that causes high levels of stress and anxiety.

So what does it mean to have an external locus of control, and when and where does one delineate between its multitude manifestations as 'normal' vs 'abnormal' - or to use more civil words, as bearable vs unbearable?

If you lose a job in times of an economic crisis, the locus of control is externalised. Thus, high anxiety levels. But would you necessarily call it unbearable? Perhaps if it causes the individual to become inert and passive. Even so, there is a component on internal locus of control - he/she may decide to apply for jobs outside of his field of choice, he/she may decide to take advantage of the situation and go on a vacation, or volunteer for a cause they may have felt strongly for etc.

If you lose a loved one... There is no component of internal locus of control. But, coping with its loss takes a different turn in bereavement. It follows a different coping process.

So what does it mean to lose the internal locus of control? How about Psychosis? Or perhaps Bipolar Disorder? Or even a Personality Disorder?

To the supporters of CBT, it may seem absurd if I associate the loss of locus of control with the above. But imagine having to fight a war with yourself every single moment of every single day, not being able to predict what's coming your way, and not knowing or understanding how to control it. If the city's hit by a hurricane, you can choose to be vigil and take control over the situation to assure your safety. If there's a forest fire, you stay away from the forest. But what do you do if one moment you are content and happy and then suddenly a dark gloomy cloud takes over and you can't see anything clearly? Where do you run to? What do you run from? It suddenly explains suicide rates among Bipolar!

Coming back to my still in infacy fascination with the simplistic explanations, one can do more with the core affective and instinctual and cognitive dispositions than with investing in fancy MRI researches and drugs and PET scans and whatnot...

If we can just find a way to instill hope, to help these individuals regain a sense of control, of dignity, of stability, so much more can be achieved, and without the devastating effects of medications!

JUST ANOTHER SUBLIMATION

You transcend beyond the realms of reality
And thereafter it’s just approximations
A masochistic thrill in the tug of war
A narcissistic pleasure in revelations

What do you make of the connection in the disconnect,
And the distance in proximity?
What is it all but illusions?
A trance, a rhapsody

You crave for the simpler existence
But you have plunged over the edge
Hereafter, it’s a plummet
You go down, and you go down… perish in another’s pledge

It’s the turmoil beneath the sullen clouds
The current beneath the calm seas
You expand till you explode,
Till rendered a speck of dust in the breeze

What sense does it all make?
Permanence, sustenance, ambitions of naiveté
In the end, we’re all stardust
It’s just moments in brevity

WHEN STARS COLLIDE

He lit a fire,
And her head set ablaze
The realms of nothingness
Thus they began to chase

Prodigies of war, two marred children
They tethered, they slithered
Never could contain the love that came their way
In the ruins of others, thus they withered

Their sanity rested in each other’s madness
The calm of the chaos within
Every now and then, they would cosset in abandonment
The masochism of the aborigine

The last of their memory was burnt
But the annihilation was an ambition none could attain
The fury of their fusion was so extreme,
Their souls could not sustain

So now they blend,
Separate from the separation of the rest
Her thoughts become his and his soul hers
They rejoice in the defeat of their conquest

THE ANONYMOUS

A beam exuded from his darkened soul
The orange of his lava filled the air
He couldn’t breathe in his own blaze
Yet he lived more than anyone would dare.

Sole warrior in the world of marchers
He didn’t stir, but he fought his war
Did he win, or did he lose…?
He had travelled beyond and far.

The war was his, but victory the world’s
The dismembered wrath and agony,
He was the reservoir of broken dreams
He grew a wise man, and wisdom became his felony!

Change...

"THE ONLY CONSTANT IS CHANGE" - Heraclitus

Since the human race started contemplating, we've known that the only thing that is constant, assured and certain is change... Change...

Blame it on sub average introspective qualities, or on facticity, but for most of us, change is a series of progressive events that collaborate together, piece by piece, into what we call life. We just watch it go by, or get so lost living it that we never appreciate it... we make ourselves believe that there isn't any change, but isn't every day really a new day? Even when we are as static one may believe it is humanly possible, we are living a change, albeit in the form of time just slipping away, it is still change - change beyond ourselves.

There's another category among us - ones who embrace the first and foremost of 'the seven habits' as Stephen Covey liked to put it - those among us who are Proactive in the change. We're constantly on the run... doing new things, harboring a strong will to learn more, see more, do more... always manipulating our environments. If we can't change our perception, we change the object. If we can't change the object, we fight the perception that we're becoming dangerously comfortable with as each day passes by, if we can't fight it, we ignore the object. But there's always an unrest, an itch... for something different, even if it is my window curtain...

For some of us, comes a point in life when all the years of maneuvering actually begin to take shape... when we no longer need to kneed the dough... it just happens. Suddenly, the otherwise dormant universe becomes Proactive for us. Suddenly, change comes and how! You want to turn away, but it won't let you... and then you realise that all this while you had been deluding yourself with the belief that you are changing yourself, when you had only been changing your environment. And now, the world is changing you, and there's nothing you can do about it, except change... But all you really want to do is shrink back in your little cell, your dark comfort zone, even though you hated it... because, well perhaps it's so much easier that way.

There are so many songs about change, so many Philosophers have contemplated over it since time immemorial, Psychologists wonder about it every day, every one of us lives it every day... yet, why are we so scared to confront it, why do we coy at the thought of letting this current of change take over us? Why do we always have to be in control, even as we complain about it every second? What do we really want?

What are we made of?

Sleepless nights and midnight caffeine kicks... what are we made of?
Love that never arrives, love that's pushed away, dormant years and bouts of madness, love of hate and hate of love... what are we made of?
Stardust and chemicals, dust that dissolves in the invisible waters, pursuits of illusions, illusions are reality... what are we made of?
Restless souls chasing peace, peace that always eludes itself, hushed tears and violent screams... where is the truth?
Is it on a mountain top that exists but only in my mind, or is it in the sand dunes that are blowing in the wind?
Lies that we sell, truth that we deny, pasts we never forget, present we never believe, future, always too far... where is our reality?
Souls that are sallow, hearts that are hollow, minds marred, children charred... where is the rescue?
Cries that are never heard, blame, blame, blame. the flame never dies... but who started the fire?
Too far beyond to retrieve, the savior is dead. The war is not ours, gratuitous is our enemy... What are we made of?

ABYSS ABYSS ABYSS ...

Chaotic circles

Caught in the chaotic circles
She sits back and enjoys the show
Remorselessly she rejoices
In this melodrama that she so blissfully put together,
Piece by piece it unfurls,
The mysteries untold, she holds
Now it’s a tragedy, now a comedy…
Her life is every drama ever conceived
A patchwork of half-written metaphors,
A mélange of half-brewed potions,
She fills it with her whims and fancies
And makes it her own
Originality is but an illusion!

It goes up, it goes down, never a plateau
It churns within, it burns without
A pauper walks by, and it turns upside down…
All the sages and all the saints
All the madmen and all the maniacs
Watch silently as her life corrodes…
Smug in believing that she perishes
Under the torrent of their caprice
Unaware that she sits beside them!

Now she knows how she feels,
Now there is nothing she feels,
Now the words are hers,
Now the words are just letters,
Neatly tailored together…
But incomprehensible,
Just like herself!

Does this fiasco of sentences have a meaning?
Does it have an end?
There isn’t one in sight,
For there wasn’t a beginning…