Laotze's Dialogues

Author: Laotze De Abreu

  • Change can be scary, exciting, or simply be

    We can be too distracted with what may be, what is not, and what should be, that we fail to see what is and what is becoming.

    Everything changes. The realization comes easier when the regular flow of our lives is disrupted: a goodbye, a disaster, or the end of a cycle. For me, it comes in the form of a graduation, gazing into my mother’s salt-and-pepper hair, the observation of a flower blooming, then withering, and finally being replaced by a new bud weeks later.

    Our perspective of change is one of the few things we have control over. When we consider change and how fragile what surrounds us is, fear is a natural reaction. However, it could also bring experiences that go beyond our imagination; change could also be exciting. Our perspective can surpass our personal bias, leaving aside what would be good or bad for us, enabling us to reach a deeper understanding of change and to make better decisions.

    Change can be scary

    We can see how frightening change can be when we consider how its outcome does not even resemble the idea we had, how our grasp fail to dictate exactly the path it takes, and specially how fragile is what surrounds us, like the presence of people in our lives, what we do and the means to do it, the skill and the time.

    At the mere hint of change, we may be tempted to hold fast to what we fear losing; however, there is a better alternative than succumbing to it. We use that powerful emotion as a reminder of how much it matters to us, as an opportunity to feel fortunate that we still enjoy its presence and can make the most of it.

    We’ve built a sand castle, but the waves start to clash against our walls. We may persist and try to hold our towers; however, the tide is rising. It isn’t madness wanting our work and effort to remain, but going against the sea.

    Change can be exciting

    We can look at the other end of the spectrum; change can also be exciting.

    Change keeps its course, and still we can fail to predict its outcome. But this randomness can be something we look for. Change can present us with experiences that we could have never conceived, a growth we could have never obtained otherwise, a side of the world and ourselves we have never believed existed.

    If we were to stay within our shell, we would see nothing. It is change that puts our world upside down and demands that we make use of what we have.

    Yes, we may not have the same sand castle. But we can always rebuild. We have the opportunity to choose a better terrain, pick an innovative style, or decide we want a completely different structure.

    Change can be simply change

    We can see change beyond ourselves, not just in relation to us, or how they may represent a benefit or a loss.

    There is fickleness in how we regard good and bad. How quickly the bad turns to good when it happens to benefit us in the long run, so we are sour, angry, or sad until we aren’t, and the same happens to the good.

    Whether from fear or desire, we can be overwhelmed by what may be, what is not, and what we think it should be. At those times, we could use the clarity that comes from looking at change beyond ourselves.

    So, we should leave aside momentarily what we would like or dislike, how it would impact us, and concern ourselves with what happened, why, and how, and the answers may have nothing to do with us.

    We obtain a deeper understanding of the nature of what we have at hand, and we are more prepared to decide how to act.

    The sea just was being the sea; the tide rose, the waves clashed, the currents kept their momentum. Our sand castle happened to be there.

    Get familiar with the idea of change

    We must get familiar with the idea of change and be aware of our perspective on it.

    We don’t have to wait for a disruption in our regular life to appreciate change; do a constant effort to notice tiny changes, contrast brand new objects with the ones that have experience the passing of time, observe the growth of other people and your own, see how your paths drift apart or come together, consider the absence of what now may be gone.

    Our perspective on change is one of the few aspects we have control over, whether it is scary, exciting, or just a matter of being. When we heed our emotions, the pressing fear or the excitement for the future, they show us what matters to us and guide our actions from different perspectives. By looking at things just the way they are, we acquire a more objective understanding and clear our judgment. With both, we are more prepared to navigate change.

    What the sea has taken is gone. It falls into our hands what to do next. We hear different counsels and decide.

  • Repetition to make what we know useful

    We know fire burns, yet we extend our fingers reaching for the flames.

    We know something is bad for us, or for the things we care about, or we know some things may be beneficial. Despite this, we fail to act on such notions. Why do we ignore the things we believe?

    On one side, we have what we presume to know; on the other, there is its understanding. To make something meaningful out of what we have, we will use repetition to close the gap created by inexperience, ambiguity, or wear.

    The problem with repetition

    Repeating could be dull.

    I’m not a fan of rereading a story, re-watching a series, or watching a movie.

    When we first encounter a plot, everything is possible; The hero could turn out to be corrupt, the insignificant side character the puppeteer pulling the main narrative from the shadows, the dead may not be so, every detail could be a tiny clue left by the creator for what is coming.

    As a result, we don’t put down the book; we play the next chapter.

    However, once the story comes to an end, characters and events are fixed; they can’t take a different path.

    The magic seems lost.

    A part of us

    Regardless of this impression, repetition is inevitable if we want to make something part of us.

    In writing, we can recognize the elegance with which a message arrives, its clarity, how clever the word arrangement is, and how cunning it is to make readers discover by themselves what you unobtrusively presented as a writer.

    Identifying those accomplishments is a start.

    However, evoking them requires practice, trial and error, it requires that we find what works and what does not, and do the thing over and over again.

    We are drawing a line between knowing and understanding.

    Use it, or lose it

    We must make something out of what we have; a skill, a yearning, or some other resource.

    Otherwise, like a plant that has not been watered, it will lose strength and wither.

    Food goes stale and blades dull,

    minds stagnate,

    skills rust,

    ideas dim.

    What good would they do if never used?

    What good would they do if, when needed, they are unfit?

    Practicing enables us to stay fresh, sharp, and active. Employing what we have opens our eyes to context, proportions, and intricate details. When faced with a challenge, we can recognize patterns and draw solutions from our own resources.

    Same story, different eyes

    Anything would be dull for the wrong eyes; anything has beauty in the right ones.

    The story will not change its words nor its denouement. Yet, its magic remains, for that is not the same story nor we the same man.

    The words that once sounded sweet turn sour, knowing betrayal lies behind them. The characters’ tragedy and despair magnify their impending victory. The line between black and white, right and wrong, good and bad, is a lot harder to tell apart.

    Our familiarity with the story enables us to deepen our understanding of its world and forge stronger bonds with its characters and ideas.

    Use what you have

    We don’t ignore what we know; it simply is rust, too green, or clouded by circumstances.

    To combat this, we must put to use whatever we have. That way, it will become part of us. We have to do this not only once, but reiterate on the same activity, skill, lesson, or concept.

    There is beauty in the cycle of forgetting and rediscovering. We forget, even if it is simple, sometimes because of it. Then, we come across a curious sensation; something that is not new, but not entirely familiar.

    Make something out of what you have, again and again, and enjoy the small bits you rediscover.

  • Can we stop being ourselves?

    Who are you?

    Think about a character. It could be yourself or one borrowed from a book, a movie, or any other source. How much can we alter the stories while their essence remains? Would Harry Potter be Harry Potter if he had never attended Hogwarts? What if he had never befriended Ron? I’m sure you can come up with examples of your own.

    Now I ask, how long would we be the same people if we started adding and removing pieces from us?

    Among all our dynamic elements, there is a product of our unique biology, our story, and the narrative we weave around it. Imagine it like a tree trunk that provides strength and structure to the whole. That is part of the unique self I mentioned in ‘The subtle restrictions we seldom think of‘.

    The idea sounds bizarre, but can a fish be without a sea? Can we capture a stream and store it in a bucket? Can we stop being ourselves? What happens with the core when we drift apart? Perhaps the branch is so far out from the trunk that it no longer receives the needed nutrients. Or worse, the branch may have snapped off.

    We should wonder why we would walk away from ourselves. It may be a momentary satisfaction, or the avoidance of a pressing horror? Is giving up an essential part of ourselves worth it? We may not be thinking at all.

    However important the cause is, a daisy’s end can be either drowning or thirst. Before we realize, the connection is gone. The sun’s warmth and brightness have left us blind. Adversity has turned the sensible flesh into stone. A bitter taste has killed our appetite. A sweet fragrance has escaped us. A harmonious sound has transformed into a deafening cacophony. Yes, we are here. Yet, we are not.

    We have the chance to reconnect with ourselves again. The branch can sprout roots and attain a new nutrient source. We can restore these burnt senses. The process may be slow, clumsy, and daunting. However, we can taste the tartness of a strawberry, hear the ringing of a bell, the softness of our clothes, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, and see the dim color of a sunset.

    The key to keeping our essence is wonder. We need to look out for that which delights us, that which frightens us, for the times we feel good, those in which we feel bad, and the reason we label them that way. We need to become experts on ourselves. Ask yourself questions, even if you think you know the answer, you may surprise yourself.

    Returning to the initial question, who are you?