Chasing Failure - The only way to actually succeed in life

I've been thinking about the purpose of life and how to achieve your goals. And it's all rooted in the simple idea that we as humans control our own lives.

But maybe I've been coming at this from the wrong angle.


What is life?
Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. We’ve all heard that quote.

I call bullshit on that.

Life is breathing in and out. It’s something you do without even noticing. You can’t NOT live. It’s simply not possible. You also can’t NOT pay attention to your life. It’s there. You’re in it. There’s no escape. So the idea of life happening somewhere outside of your perception? That’s just madness.

No matter what you do, you will be in your life, and you will live it. And unless you’re in a coma, you’re gonna notice that you’re living it. You might be disappointed or feel inadequate or a thousand other things – but as long as you breathe, you live.

But what about the things you do in your life? The meaning of it all?

Ah yes. Doing something in your life besides breathing is expected from most of us. A shame really. I quite like those days when I do nothing but breathe. But at the same time, those days make me feel horrible as well, because I feel like I’m wasting my potential and my limited time on this planet.

So, we’ve uncovered some more aspects of life: Expectations – from others and from yourself.

Let’s move on to the next key word: Control.


What is control?
Control is to exert force over something or someone to achieve a goal of some sorts.

If we agree that life is simply breathing, what is the goal we’re trying to achieve through the use of this control? Breathing in and out will happen regardless, so clearly that’s not our focus.

Oh no.

We aim to achieve a goal, set by our expectations, in order to achieve a level of satisfaction and accomplishment.

This goal will inherently be meaningless. Because life is short and no matter what you will die. Even the legacy of great people such as the pharaohs of Egypt and the emperors of China has been eroded by time.
Nothing lasts – not even humanity itself.


Letting go
This is turning pretty bleak. I don’t mean to be discouraging. I’m just trying to paint a picture where this idea of needing to be in control is utterly ridiculous, because in the end, it won’t make a difference.

The only thing you can actually control in this life is your breathing. The rest is just illusions of control.

Realize your insignificance in this life that you have. Embrace it. And start carving out the little piece of the world that you want to spend your time breathing in and out in.

I still believe you need to set yourself some goals – something you want to achieve. But don’t attribute the failure or the success in your life to yourself. Instead, embrace the inevitability of failing. Even if you succeed, it will not matter in 100+ years after your death.

So if you are going to spend your life failing at something – what do you want it to be?

What lie do you want to live?

I watched Sabrina the other night. It’s was the 1995 version with Harrison Ford. The old one with Humphrey Bogart and Audrey Hepburn is much better, but sometimes you deliberately do things that might seem out of character (like watching a remake when you know the original is way better) just to see what happens.

The movie is so unremarkable that it was hard finding a picture that captured the essence of the plot.So I settled for this because of the bikes. I love bikes.

I’ve been watching a lot of romantic films lately. I don’t know what that tells you about me. I think maybe I’m looking for answers. What the question is I’m not quite sure though. I think I’m searching for that too.

Even though this version of Sabrina is pretty forgettable, one part of it stuck with me.

It was when Linus Larrabee (played by Harrison Ford) confesses his true love for Sabrina (played by Julia Ormond). He explains that his love for her started as a lie, which grew into a dream, and now he was standing there hoping against hope for the dream to turn into reality.

I remember when I was a kid and people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I would tell them all sorts of things. I tried to be consistent, but to be honest I had no clue what I wanted to be.

I quickly learned that wasn’t an appropriate answer.

So I started to get creative.

I told them I wanted to become an archaeologist (after having watched Indiana Jones). I told them I wanted to become a writer (I love books). I told them I wanted to become a journalist (the more respectable version of a writer). I told them I wanted to become a lawyer (I blame Ally McBeal).

Now at the time I didn’t think of these stories as lies. But looking back I see that they were.

As we get older we’re told to be reasonable. To only take calculated risks. To not live with our heads in the clouds anymore. And I guess we’re told these things with the best of intentions. But why aren’t we allowed to be dreamers anymore?

It happened gradually, but the result was not to be mistaken: Playing pretend – or lying – became something you weren’t supposed to do anymore.

As an adult it’s expected that you have it all figured out – or at least pretend that you do. Somehow that lie is still accepted.

I don’t know what I want my life to become. I don’t know what I want to achieve. But maybe I can start with just telling myself a few lies. Just to see how they match the color of my eyes. And maybe one of these lies will stand out. I’ll think about it more than the others, imagining it in more and more details. Until it’s no longer a lie, but a dream – a goal.

Sometimes it’s necessary to deliberately tell yourself something that you know is not true, just to see how it fits. How else do you grow?

I don’t know if that’s how you’re supposed to do it.

I don’t even know who the lie is for – the one you’re telling it to? Or yourself? I suspect the latter.

So ok.

For the next week I will live a lie. Why not?

It shouldn’t feel too different from what I’m doing now.

If you could play pretend and live a lie - what would your lie be?

What defines us?

I watched an episode of Torchwood* yesterday and it really got to me. 

The episode was called Adam and it was about an alien that managed to manipulate each of the teammembers memories. This ended up changing them radically (e.i. a cynic womanizer became a romantic fool for love, the quiet nerdy girl blossomed into a self-assured and sexy woman).

At the end of the episode, when they’re trying to remember who they used to be, they’re asked to look inside themselves and find their core memories - the moments that defined them and shaped their lives.

 

It got me thinking about my own defining moments and just like the characters on the show, I feel like I’ve been defined more by the bad stuff than the good stuff. I remember clearly the first time I had to take on the role of being a parent, because my mother was too drunk and no one else was around to do it. As the youngest sibling of four, it was a totally new feeling and very, very scary. I was terrified, but I couldn't show it, because then my mother would just become even more difficult to deal with. I remenber feeling utterly lost, but oddly in control of the situation at the same time. It was a very weird sensation. Bittersweet. Certainly not something I would classify as a happy memory. 

And so it goes for a lot of the moments that I feel have defined who I am.

 

Why is it that hardship seems to make a bigger imprint on us than all of the good times?

 

I took a break in my blogging here, to ponder this question and you know how they say 'ask and you shall recieve'? 

Well...

 

I was just surfing the net and reading the news when I stumbled upon an article (in Danish) about epigenes and how a traumatic event in your childhood can literally change the epigenes of your DNA.

 

We're talking about how psychological trauma can actually effect you right down to the genetic level. That suffering in your childhood can make a lasting imprint on your DNA. This certainly seem to explain the nitty gritty details of why it changes us.

It would appear that mind and body is connected on a multitude of levels.

I don't know if that is a comforting thought or not. But it does make me think about the characters I write about. What kind of trauma have they experienced? How did it effect them? Do they even know how deep the wounds go?

I was surprised to learn that I've been changed on a genetic level because of things I experienced in my childhood. But the creative writer in me wonders how this might be the seed of a story. 

* Torchwood is an British sci-fi show, a spin-off of Doctor Who**. It's about a team of humans, defending the world against aliens. 

** Doctor Who is one of the best shows ever. If you don't know it, you really, really should. Start by watching this. And that. And just because I kindda think he's adorable and you should see him in all his adorableness here's a picture of David Tennant as the Doctor: 

Being vs. trying

 

(Pop fiction is a source of many of my inspirational qoutes - don't judge)

Do or do not. There is no try.

These are words I try to live by. Is anybody else seeing the irony of this?

Anyway. I really do believe that the words we use, shape not just how we see the world, but how we interact in it as well.

If I constantly refer to myself as somebody who is trying to be a writer, then that is all I will ever be. I will never be a writer. I’ll only ever be dreaming about it and trying.

Following this train of thought, then I have to refer to myself as a writer, to actually be a writer. Theories of social construction supports this notion and it feels true. If you want to be a certain way, you have to own it.  Strangely enough, it’s not enough to just walk the walk, you have to also talk the talk. And sometimes, that is the hardest part.

So this blog is essentially about me, talking the talk.

My name is Cathy L. Jensen and I am a writer.

I’m not trying. I’m not even dreaming. I just am.