Thursday, 10 January 2008

• Currently Reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius By Dave Eggers see related

  On Indecision

  You know what I have decided as of late?
  
  

  » It is perfectly acceptable to experience a little indecision (here and there).
  

  
  Now, granted, remaining in such a state for too long can transfer to the tune of a whole range of likely negative consequences: missed opportunities, anxiety, conflicts of interests, and a slew of other detriments. "No decision" is a decision--we hear it all the time. And in many ways, such is or could be the case. BUT, perhaps this is not always the rule. I would argue that, when one experiences a period of vacillations (but eventually comes to a decision, granted) the movement feels all the sweeter, all the more seasoned...perhaps even all the more wisely made.
  
  How often have you hesitated in making a big choice? A small choice? Paused to pick red or blue; decided whether to first tie the right or left shoelace; to take the scenic or straight-edge route? Enter a relationship; end a relationship? Choose whether to make a big move and start a blemish-free slate, or create "new" exactly where you are?
  
  Ultimately, there is always some inherent risk in making a decision. Risk in making it too soon, too late, too in-between soon and late, or merely in the wrong combination with other life factors. And though it is, indeed, a four-letter word by nature, its sibling is perhaps even worse: FEAR. Think about it: all the many potentially wrong ways to go that it often blots out how many right avenues there are (or could be...potentially). What's the hurry? Why the wait? Oh, the delicate balance of time, of chance, of commonplace occurrences and earth-shattering moments. What is ordinary in one moment could send you over the moon in the next; and what seems like magic and perfection can seem, all at once, banal, wayward, futile.
  
  Another problem that seems to arise with indecision is that the longer one waits to press on with a course of action, the more likely there will be an increase of choices with which one is presented. (Now, such a case in point, would imply one has still maintained all open windows, instead of slamming them as he or she progresses...or stands still, depending.) It only makes sense that encountering more paths would lead to the awareness of more crossroads...climatically compounding the number of choices set before a person. Or at least our perceptions could lead us to believe that there exist a multitude of decisions out there to be made.
  
  Emotions are such a fickle thing. And if you happen to be one of the lucky individuals blessed or cursed with a dedication to his or her stimulus-response manifestations in the gut, you probably know just what I mean. (If you're not, consider yourself lucky in this regard, for when it comes to making seemingly gargantuan choices...emotions are about the last thing one would like to reply upon for resolution.) Presuming the rest (or at least some number) of the emotionally-edged persons operate remotely the way I do, perhaps such individuals would find that the "gut" will at times say an entirely different thing one day with absolute volition...and then turn and shout the opposite just as earnestly the next day.
  
  So tonight, I give props to the logical kind. The people who can make their list of pros and cons and find a sheer winner in the math of it all. For in my world, the math may clearly seem to be the more intelligent way to proceed, but the heart is what provides the final weights is breaking ties. These ties which can decide to be completely consistent or compromising.
  
  It is no wonder that the very nature of human interaction is so complex. With added years of research and scientific and softly-scientific studies, we have become acutely aware that it is not even a mere matter of men (from Mars) and women (from Venus). Now the ways that note our differences or similarities number the stars: our genetic make-up; our upbringing, personality, personal experiences, shared experiences...not to mention, the ways we learn; the ways we communicate, dream, fear, love, hope, break, trust. Sometimes, it floors me that any one of us can relate to one another as well as we do at times.
  
  And then there is the postulation that we are all one in the same, a paint-by-number race ornamented by different colors; different mediums, external influence, personal expression; particular adherences to rules and lines, or complete dismissals; distinct degrees of skill, creativity; diverse acts of delicacy or brashness. Based on where we are born or the sort of parents we were even provided (or not provided) during our childhoods can limit the availability of any sort of tools, leaving us to be painted by a hand that isn't our own.
  
  I challenge you (as I challenge myself) to explore the possibilities. To act. To not be afraid of expression or examination. We have each been provided with our canvas--canvases with different points of quality and weakness, but canvases all the same. And so long as one doesn't tear or burn it beyond repair--so long as we find ourselves with the means, the time, and the energy to keep on painting--our paints can alway reshape the final rendering. One might end up with a Monet, a Picasso, or Da Vinci masterpiece fit for the finest of museums, or, on the other hand, a close-but-no-cigar Henry Platoof (of whom you've never heard, because he is merely a fictional name, made up just for kicks)--which one couldn't even dare banish to the walls of one's bathroom, yet be the sort of failed attempt only a mother could love. But in the end, once one can channel the desire within, he or she will always come up with some sort of product, be it half-baked, or reproduced for the masses (to promote one's reputable genius). In other words, so long as one tries, some change to the blank canvas or to impressions of millions has been made.
  
  But whatever you do, try to keep those paints that work for you, those pencils, or those piles of glue in the corner of your eye as you dabble in life's nonsense...because it is the medium(s) by which you create that will help you progress. If you forget or decide the medium is no longer going to fit your image, perhaps all isn't lost either. Just as old dogs can learn new tricks with the proper efforts, even past oil stains can seem to mix with watermarks of the now. It just takes a little extra patience and dedication to take all the steps necessary.
  
  So, in the months ahead: to follow my heart, or to follow the mind, or just a healthy combination of both? Perhaps only time will tell. After all, it has never failed to provide perspective up to this point.  No matter what, I am firmly convinced that my feet will eventually plant themselves at and for the proper time, with the proper sort of people and right frame of mind.  I've learned enough over the years to know that the Big Guy sorta knows what he's doing.
  
  

  "Far better is to dare mighty things, to gain mighty triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither gain much nor suffer much because they live in the grey twilight that knows not victory or defeat." -Teddy Roosevelt

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