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And on the seventh day, rest was on the list

"And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made." [Genesis 2:2, King James Bible]

According to Christianity, when the world (and everything on it) was made, so was the concept of rest. Nobody can ever call it a modern “woke” concept. Nobody? You make me laugh.

When I woke up on this sunny Sunday morning, I could see the November light shining in through the gaps in my curtains. And with my first breath it dawned on me: I have quite a few things to do on my list. And with the next breath awoke the question: “Why?”

It's Sunday, therefore you now have time for these activities. Things you couldn't attend to during the week. You want them done and they entered the list. It still feels like a trap, self-inflicted torment. If I were more religious, I could pull the Sunday card.

You could but to what end? Tomorrow will be a new week. In comparison: On the eighth day God did not return to the void and created everything again. Yet you will be in the office again and check on new E-mails. If that your case? I will never be finished; hence I can't ever rest? Me and my list: a relationship in constant strife.

A therapist friend once told me, years ago: When you don't reach perceived requirements, it's very human to blame yourself. But maybe the requirements are too high. Maybe my list is to full. My perceived list. Of perceived necessities. Excuses. Loopholes. Giving up before even trying

Perhaps. And I mean that seriously. But I've seen people around me, wearing themselves down, trying to complete massive lists. Sometimes because they believed in the list, sometimes because their neighbour had a similar list. They are proud in their ambition!

They are restless in their ambition. Rest-less. Just like a trap, self-inflicted torment. Take the ambition out of the equation, God might have rested on day two.

Perhaps. I guess none of us will ever win the argument. We need a balance here. I don't aim at stopping with my list completely. All I ask for is a rest without regret. Without your voice and doubts. Put it on the list? Consciously on the list? I'll leave you alone.

Next post: “Adult life and proper boots” Last post: “As relative as time”

As relative as time

The year draws to its close – as evident in switched-on heating and the dreadful sense of midnight-level darkness in the late afternoon – and I have gotten better at accepting compliments.

George stopped deflecting them. The compliments were real, honest and came from a genuinely nice motion. Given all that, why was my gain still relatively small? They are small compliments. If you want more gain, work more and collect more!

Hmm. How did this “we accept compliments” achievement turn into attention-driven capitalism? You. Better. Work.

Yeah, not falling for the diversion. Let's remember “addictive craving for compliments and validation” for another post. My original question was: why was my gain still relatively small?

They are small compliments. No, they're not. Not all of them, at least. Some are pretty big. Well they are MEANT to be big compliments but RELATIVELY speaking they're not. Come again?

#1 They are no experts.

As unskilled bystanders, it's nice to compliment you. And they probably mean it from the bottom of their ignorant heart. That's still a compliment then, George! They are proud of my achievements and voice that. Making people happy: Accomplished. Sounds pretty static to me, though. Even without any improvement you might please the ignorant. Worse: Even a setback could still be enough.

And what about the compliments I receive from people better than me? Your argument falls flat there!

#2 They don't truly mean that you're super good.

They mean that you are relatively good for your level. And maybe they simply want to congratulate you for trying. A motivation cookie.

The trapdoor opened, swallowed me whole and closed: Non-experts and experts alike were either ignorant or nice, but not honest. George has stopped deflecting the compliments but started challenging their validity or worth. All that remains are scraps.

And you know what? So be it! They're scraps, they're genuine, and they're mine! If you want more gain, work more and collect more. But maybe I can get something better. I started asking the people to explain their compliments, to describe what the like, to ask the experts for guidance.

In the end, what else is improvement but little scraps and little steps, on at a time?

Next post: “And on the seventh day, rest was on the list” Last post: “Why should they”

Why should they

Do you trust your friends?

Bold open question, don't you think? You might think that. But believe me, it is the central question this time. Do you trust your friends? They are your friends, they don't lie to you. I mean: Why should they?

Out of a whim, I looked through job adverts. It's truly astonishing: There is so much out there one can do as a job. “One” referring to everyone else of course. You look at five adverts and there are probably four jobs you're not qualified for. And one is significantly out of your comfort zone. And this one here on the other hand isn't even in galactic proximity of “comfort”...

And that was my evening in a nutshell. George, myself, a list, and all the reasons in the world galaxy why I'm trying to order from the wrong menu. Sounds like dating? Feels like dating.

I only want to spare you pain and humiliation. Look at this one here. Tempting, I understand. Different to what you're used to, more mature. But comes with more responsibility and you just lack what's expected. Sounds like dating? Feels like dating.

I can learn on the job. Blame me for skill not yet acquired, George, but I'm not lazy and eager to dig into it. Go on. But they can find a candidate who already has the necessary experience. Nobody looks for an investment. Sounds like dating? Feels like dating.

Now hear me out: Don't change between jobs, better change within. In tiny steps. Then from day to day you know what you can and what you can't deliver.

Maybe you are right. As much as I want to do *hectic scrolling* THIS, I just have never done it before on a job. Exactly.

Except... my friends tell me that they believe me to be capable. That I've proved it before, not on the job maybe, and not in line with the way it is written... but the skill in itself. They don't know. And anyway: They are just polite.

Do you trust your friends? They are your friends, they don't lie to you. I mean: Why should they? They want you to feel good! Friends value friendship and don't dare to crack it by truth. And they call it telling you what you “need to hear”.

Why would they think that? Why would I “need to hear” it? The usual friendship stuff: To feel good, optimistic, brave. Not truth but dare, to jump the jump.

Sounds all good to me. Encouragement to make the jump is indeed what I “need to hear”. No wait, that was not where I was going here....

To dare the jump, to seek what can be found. Nothing new can be found if you only believe in the old. That's not how it works. That's how it has worked up till now, hasn't it? Trust your friends, dare a jump, be surprised. And maybe you're valued for traits you never even knew you have. it could be the beginning of something fun. Sounds like dating? Feels like dating.

Next post:“As relative as time” Last post: “Let's have a party”

Let's have a party

I heard an expression I have to share with George and all the readers: “Main Character Syndrome”

Oh please, don’t try to convince us that you’re not the main character of your life’s story! You’re literally writing about it here. And you often treat me as its narrator. Unpaid narrator, I might add.

Yes, and yes. I do and do. I am the main character of my life. Or maybe more precise: from my point of view, I’m the only “playable character”. If you believe to help your case: you don’t.

Well, I can’t play the other chars. Unless you expect me to become a manipulating puppet master. Evil laugh

You are in a very suspect mood tonight. Is this finally your confession? Are you a narcissist?

No narcissist would answer this question with “yes”. So from a logical point of view, I might be. My life begins with me, it ends with me. It is my only story, and I have constant stage time. If nobody manipulates me, then I logically must have the leading role.

So the diagnose is “Main Character Syndrome” then?

I tend to disagree. Being the main character of my life doesn't mean I expect everyone to only turn around me. But to ignore the main character?

My life isn't not the only life or the only story. This isn't a single-player game but a multiplayer one. The difference being?

My fellow humans are neither my puppets, nor my sidekicks, they're not here to give me quests, or to wait their entire life for me to pass by their tavern.

Nice words but narcissism still isn’t far. Even when being just one main character among many?

Wishful semantics. You still want your hero's journey and your main quest line. Wow. You surprise me yet again. On any other occasion, you want to challenge my “lack of ambition”. I am the subject of this sentence. What does it hurt as long as I treat my fellow humans with equal respect?

And regardless of me believing it or not. You won't shut up either way, continuing to narrate my life from inside my head. Unpaid.

Next post: “Why should they” Last post: “How do you clean for a living?”

How do you clean for a living?

Humans are messy. We just are. We clean and mess and clean and mess... Quite a never-ending tug of war.

But if so, then how do we place our fellow humans (and ourselves) onto the scale from tidy to messy (or chaotic)? By the most-tidy-we-are when we're tidy? By the average? By the time we can hold “tidy” status before a decline to mess again?

Are we still talking about keeping a room tidy? And have we ever? I'm not sure, there's so much clutter in this brain of ours.

You might be surprised – or you might not, in the end, it doesn't truly matter – to learn that I am a person with quite the swings, the ups and downs on the tidy-messy scale. To me “comfort” includes the luxury of a relaxed attitude towards order in favour of living and breathing. Until you freak out. A discomfort explosion when it gets too far.

I admit, that's a very good description. Today was such a day: In recent time, my life was rather fast and stressful, so my reaction was comfort in a certain leeway. Until today. The day you couldn't stand it anymore. Come on, I was there. You wanted to clean up. You wanted to order and control and have some say in what you see, didn't you?

It became... ineffective. Order – after all – has its perks. I prefer cosy over sterile any day but knowing where things are provides... clarity. And I had the time, I took the time, I started cleaning up, I grabbed something, a book maybe, and then George said Uh nice, but what's the point? Today you put it from A to B so that next time you can put it back from B to A. Sounds very much like a metaphor for your life, doesn't it?

I didn't stop cleaning that moment but only continued in a kind of automatic mode. Did my self-talk just call my cleaning efforts futile and then compare them to the endeavour of ordering my life? The comparison is pretty obvious if you ask me. You can move a lot without ever leaving a course. There is something called a “dynamic stability”: You are awake, you sleep, you are awake, you sleep. Repeating patterns.

I can't sleep all the time and neither can I constantly be awake. Both would be ridiculous. But that's not the point. The accusation of futility is what shocked me. You will put it back from B to A. You won't like it there. But then it's not cleaning, is it? It's parking.

Maybe that's bad, maybe it isn't. In any case, George is right, this “dynamic stability” is less “dynamic” than is sounds. You walk and walk and walk and walk and always come back to the same place. If you truly want to change something, you need to strike new paths first. And for that you can't continue relying on your old maps. De-clutter some things, get a new shelf, throw away those old things.

But I might still use them one day. I can put them over there. Next to the box with my old electronic cables. You're making it easy for me today, you know that?

I know. Old answers lead to old outcomes. “Act like the person you want to become” they say. But what could that mean for me now? And when should I start? At messy or at tidy? Do you see that book over there? Maybe future you would love to have it at a place C.

Next post: “Let's have a party” Last post: “Make a morning wish”

Make a morning wish

What do you want?

A very mundane question. Often marking the beginning of negotiations before an exchange of some kind.

What do you want?

Or maybe not. No exchange. Not always. In other times it is more of a billboard question looming over you. The question only a message, not expecting an answer.

What do you want?

I can want, I probably should want... something. There's always something to want, or is there not?

I recently discovered that my daily commute has a certain routine inside my own mind. For clarification: I commute alone (except for, you saw it coming, George of course) and over the years, we seemed to have developed a dance of thoughts. I wonder who you think is leading.

First beat (a slight step to the side): leaving the house. I get settled into the morning and subtly start checking myself: am I tired, energised, at ease? After all, we have to know what to work with. Any curve can harbour a surprise but one can only stand on solid feet or dodge with ready muscles.

Second beat (three strong steps forward): envisioning the day. Surprises or not, there is a list of tasks in my mind. A meeting here, a mail there, tasks to do. Or more precisely: to get done. Are you looking forward to actually do them or are you looking forward to have them done? After all, that's not the same, is it? Enjoying the actual action or the end of it. Is the journey truly the destination all along or only the means to its end?

Third beat (a sudden pause): while weighing the personal significance of a – maybe – mundane task list before coffee #1 (!):

What do you want?

Not every day but any day. Not big, complicated, long words but four syllables. Not threatening but waiting.

What do you want?

And what do you want? Your answers were inconsistent at best. And rather humble, I admit Before coffee #1, I ask for peace. I hope to get to my list of tasks without interruptions or dramatic (!) surprising disruptions. Meetings and messages which are more gardening than firefighting, if you get what I mean!

And so I go. The statements above sound like Tuesday to Thursday and not like Monday or Friday. And why?

Since What do you want? is – in this dance – more reply than question, really.

  • Checking myself
  • Considering what lies ahead
  • What do you want?
  • What do you want?
  • What do you want?
  • What do you want?
  • What do you want?

As open a question as open can go, but based on what state I am in: On Mondays, coming from a weekend going towards a week of work; On Fridays, coming from a week of work going towards a weekend; then the questions sound bigger. And still you try to dodge them. I find this moment when we are alone, when we haven't had a coffee and the chance to erect our walls and deflections. Now this is the moment. And you dodge it. Again and again.

And here we see the ambush. What do you have me do? I am commuting, I just entered the treadmill. That's hardly the moment to stop and turn around, is it? Hardly the moment to plan? I give you a chance again and again.

And by doing so, your chance becomes part of the treadmill. Woven into the mundane as part of the dance. And we dance until the music stops. It was maybe Orwell's cruellest idea for the system to write the book of resistance. Any action is merely a stream ignoring pebbles.

But just because the question is wired into the system doesn't spoil its validity. It simply needs a better time on fertile soil. Not a worn-out commute in the evening, not a busy Saturday evening.

George, would you take a walk with me? What do you want?

Next post: “How do you clean for a living?” Last post: “Impatient Padawan”

Impatient Padawan

When I say the word “waiting”, what's the first emotion that comes to mind? What flavour of emotion? Is it the “restless” or the relieved type?

Bike rides are excellent opportunities for self-talk. Similar to any other type of commute but – hopefully – without a phone in hand. During a bike ride this week I considered some challenges and necessary skills and caught myself saying out loud “I'm not ready yet. Maybe one day.”

Curiously, it felt like a full stop, like an end to a thought. “Maybe one day. Nothing to see here. Move along.”

You're just never happy with my advice, are you? You complain when I push you to strive for more. And now, when I comfort you, what about it? Not today. Maybe one day.

I am not complaining, George, (well, maybe a bit) but not about comfort, about the full stop. The topic feels axed without proper conclusion. Feel free to stress yourself over it. I wish you good luck not missing a red light. I'll be here, waiting for the blame.

Again, no blame, you little fuzzy ball of agitation. Your bike seems to have only one gear and one break. As mentioned before: Only a Sith deals in absolutes.

Maybe I am ready, maybe I am not. But any “full stop” instinct will definitely prevent me from being ready anytime soon. If toddler me had believed “I can't count to 20 yet. Maybe one day.” and then turned around to only drawing cats and dogs until the end of time... Well, best cats and dogs on the planet, presumably, but I wouldn't ever be able to count the painting in my attic.

Hold it there a minute, innumerate pet Picasso, you ask of me now to encourage you to strive for something, the motivation to aim for something but without the discomfort of right-now-not-having-said-something? Sorry, but that's like having the cake and eating it without baking or paying. Two contradicting thoughts and might I remind you: you are already talking with yourself.

Yes, I am. Yes, we are. And I want us to agree that we believe we will one day, if we start the journey and get rolling.

The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best is now.

“How can I best reach where I am not today?” shouldn't be discouraging if I can believe in the road ahead. Like today: I'm sure I am going to arrive home when I keep on cycling. And just to prove a point: Let's count the lights.

Next post: “Make a morning wish” Last post: “No act to more than blind the pain”

No act to more than blind the pain

The German language has a word which – as my German friends tell me – is only rarely if at all used, yet it made its way into other languages: “Weltschmerz”

On wikipedia it is described as “a deep sadness about the insufficiency of the world”.

Since childhood we are taught comforted to see the world as “not fair”, to perceive life as “not perfect”, and to excuse ourselves when there is “nothing you can do about it”.

For most situations, it proves to be a rather cosy mindset. We live on a spectrum: Neither powerless nor omnipotent. We can affect the world but not in its totality. Responsibility seems local, not global.

Occasionally we turn the head, a facade cracks, and our gaze falls upon something so inherently wrong and real that “nothing you can do about it” stops being comforting.

It happened to me this week when I saw a report on the news and couldn’t shake it off. “How can this even be?” “In this day and age?” “Why is nobody doing anything?” “How can [deity of your choice] let this happen?” “How can I let this happen?”

Regular readers of my blog are probably asking by now “And where is George? Isn't this a blog about self-talk anymore?” Well, it is. But talking about self-talk should include what isn't.

Personally, I don't consider Weltschmerz to be self-talk, it isn't a dialogue. At its core it is merely this feeling of pain too big to comprehend, sitting and screaming opposite to silent helplessness and impotence.

George isn't here at the moment. He will be back any second and help me to avert my gaze. Distract me again to find my speech again. For maybe escapism is the direct opposite of it all.

The German language has a word which – as my German friends tell me – is only rarely if at all used. For you can't live a life in the blinding illusion of helplessness and impotence.

Next post: “Impatient Padawan” Last post: “Three-star review”

Three-star review

As you might already know, I occasionally go up on stage to entertain an audience.

And it so happened again last night. “The going up on stage” happened again, you mean. Not the “entertaining the audience” part, right? It... wasn't a disaster. Nobody died, some members of the audience politely stated to come back.... You get the mood in the room.

Before, during, and after the show, I had this low-energy disappointment in my belly. And that sure doesn't help to surprise others – or yourself – by having a lever turned and starting an ascend to glory.

"Today's a good day to be funny or die trying." [Gowron, maybe]

And instead it was a waste of time. And reputation, let's be frank about that. It is going to hurt for longer than just that evening. Come on, George, it always hurts longer than just the evening.

Ok, you got it. Bad show, me down, having not even ENTERED the coping process of shooting around some blame. All that big fuzzy blame was mine – and George's obvisouly – to feast on. Until... What do you mean by until? I'm still feasting over here!

Until I asked some audience members I trust. I asked for their opinions. And was positively surprised. They lied to you. Come on, they're your friends.

Exactly, they're my friends. That's why they didn't lie. They would crush any delusion with honesty and then cheer me up. But they didn't. They talked about the good bits, the little things, the one feature that actually mattered: They had a good time. Slap taken, they had “still” a good time. We've all had those dinners where the pizza wasn't an epiphany but wasn't truly “meh”, either.

Reviews offer more than just two possible ratings because there is quite some additional in-between on a scale from divine to food poisoning.

Fine fine, but nobody goes to the mediocre restaurant a second time. Not if there are alternatives. Unless... Unless?

Unless you might know the chef. And maybe you believe in the chef. And you believe in good company making up for things, in feedback, in bad days... and you voice all this and help the chef to believe in themself. Then there might be a good chance for a next surprise dinner.

Next post: “No act to more than blind the pain” Last post: “Be a spark but choose the fire”

Be a spark but choose the fire

“Why can't just everyone be happy?”

I had this thought when walking to the train station this morning, looking into passing faces. The faces passed, the feeling lingered in the air for longer. Monday morning. You want to pilot the world's mood on a Monday morning? You're not in for a pleasant surprise. But go ahead and make a wish. Time to be ridiculously naïve.

Maybe. Probably. Naïve, but equally true, compelling, and important. And impossible. You can make it a quest, a purpose, a divine calling (if you need to pile up even more motivation to pack some baggage)!

Don't you think it could still serve as a good way to start? To start the day and maybe every thought? You can pave the road with good intentions, be my guest. After all, you keep complaining how negative I am. If you pick an impossible task, you will come to the dark side, that's for sure!

Then how about I agree with you for once? Maybe the plan is too big to take on as is. I don't know everyone on this planet, and I can influence even fewer people than the ones I know. I'm glad you see my wisdom. Time to forget the whole topic... Time to chunk it down! Come again?

“Why can't just everyone I know be happy?”

Less vague, I give you that, but that's as far as improvement goes. They won't listen. Their faces will pass by as well and haunt you, still enough faces.

Still too big and vague. I'm glad you see my wisdom. Time to forget the whole topic now... Time to chunk it further down! Oh boy.

“Why can't just everyone one person I know be happy?”

And who? Who shall it be? You don't simplify your problem but now you have to choose. Who among them shall it be? Think about all the ones unchosen. How cruel and selfish of you.

Then how about I agree with you again? If you want selfish, I can give you selfish:

“Why can't I just everyone one person I know be happy?”

Successfully chunked down, I'd say. I can barely go smaller or more specific now. End of your rope as well: no more abstract philosophy. Now you must get into action. I bet that's scary: you picked a destination, now it's time to leave the house without a map. Let's hear!

By that time, I hadn't yet reached the train station. The faces still passed me but they seemed to shine inside rather than outside. A constant reminder for their owner rather than a statement for the world. If they can't pull it off, how in the world will you? Ever? Do you think you're only working against me? Against yourself? This world is an economy, making revenue on you trying and failing!

At that point, I didn't feel discouraged or depressed, at least those feelings were not the top of the list. I started feeling angry. Angry at a vague, ominous something, conspiring against my happiness.. Woohoo, perfect, let's get a Twitter account! Let's bite at anyone in reach, I'm full of ideas!!

And then I stopped.

I didn't stop breathing, I didn't stop hoping, I – probably, deep inside – didn't truly stop being angry. I stopped walking.

George almost succeeded in getting me to run, in even bigger circles. He almost succeeded in getting me to spread anger instead of smiles. I'd love to be a spark. But not for such a fire.

And I remembered something I read a few years back:

In a society that profits from your self-doubts, being happy is a revolutionary act.

I'm still standing, destination picked, no map in sight. But I've got a purpose for the first step, and the one thereafter. And maybe today's a great day to smile into some faces I meet on the way...

Next post: “Three-star review” Last post: “In the twilight of sickness”

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