I have revolved around the sun 17 times, and am now being asked, what is the purpose of my existence? What a complicated question that it, one with an ever changing answer, but let me provide my current view on my placement on this Earth through an angsty teenage perspective. The philosophy I use as a building block for the construction of my life is compassion. Let me break down those series of letters staring at you on a fluorescent screen; I like to look at the world as one blanket, an endless series of threads intertwining to create a glistening fabric. Though individuals may simply be just one thread, they are all still the blanket, and every other thread around them is simply a manifestation of one universal energy source. (I'm not speaking on a religious tone.) This idea really washes a sense of tranquility over me. When I feel alone/disconnected/paranoid with the strange world gazing upon me, I remember that I am not just a single drop, but the whole damn ocean. We all are, so I let my shoulders relax, holding desperately onto the thought I am not alone in this world, but simply one drop of paint on a canvas that also composes the entire work of art. It's a beautiful thought, really. I like to use the metaphor from the wonderful book we read, A Tale for the Time Being, Ocean, wave, same thing. This is why I place compassion as the overarching virtue on my moral scale, because every kindness and every injustice is simply being done onto yourself. So, when you give a stranger a flower, or tell your mother you love her truly, you're strengthening the beautiful, intricate bonds of the thread work. However, if you send hate to regions of the world, it will not only vibrate back to you (karma) but will slowly collapse and unravel the framework of a blanket you're connected to. This can also be interpreted as a metaphor for how we treat the Earth itself, which is the home for all living things. Happiness to me is really a state of mind, because in the darkest corners of the Earth a light can still be found. For example, I'm currently in Peru working with abused children. The other day we made crowns, they were quite simple actually. Just some paper and stickers. But these simple treasures brought their gentle souls such a profound joy it truly shook me to my core. For them, happiness is a state of mind, it absolutely is. Though scars cover their tiny little bodies they still somehow encompass a gravitating optimism about the world around them, that things will be alright. And there's nothing more beautiful than watching a broken bird fly anyways. (For more information, look on my LINK page.) Of course, happiness comes in different manifestations. For these beams of light, they found joy in having a roof over their heads, to have a meal every day. So, for me, happiness is understanding, it's compassion. Having compassion is really like reading a book. For awhile, you take of your lenses of the world and peer into someone elses. You understand their reality, their pain and their happiness. And when you close the book, I truly think it makes you a better person. Having compassion is this beyond the safety of pages, it's applying it to the homeless man you see on the street, or the girl in class who always gets the answer right. For me, it especially means to recognize all manifestations on this Earth deserve it. This includes the dandelions on your front lawn, the cats and dogs running around on the streets without a home. I personally place meaning over my personal happiness, I know that it should be a balance, to take care of yourself and still take care of others. But it's quite easy to get wrapped up in freely giving compassion to others when you don't even bring it to the front door of yourself. For me, living a meaningful life means to help the blanket stay intact. To spread love to every fraction of the globe, to devote yourself absolutely to helping other lost souls on their path. It means to allow your psyche to be swallowed by a new perspective, culture, or ideology. To see the world with eyes you never thought existed or could even see. It means to accept other people's perspectives, though you may not always agree with them. To come to terms with the fact your reality isn't the only truth of this endless, complicated, infinitely mysterious world. Literature is truly one of the largest reasons as to why I am so deeply in love with compassion. When you read you dive into another perspective, and I think that's so beautiful. To possess the ability to see the worlds horizons beyond your own fraction of a perspective. Literature makes you fall in love with the broken, bad guy. You are able to see his winding path and understand how he got from point A to point B. Another important factor of my personal philosophy I want to bring up is that having compassion doesn't mean you have to forgive a serial killer, it doesn't mean you have to love those who performed awful things. In my eyes, it simply means understanding what got them there. It means you are aware that all the good, and the bad in the world, it's all still in the same blanket as you. Alas, you might as well get to know and understand the other threads. https://docs.google.com/a/animashighschool.com/file/d/0B5ktO3NLUDlcems1NU1kbjZudWM/edit I'm not yet done with my visual but here are a few photos I will be incorporating into it. I always take away something on a very deep, intimate level from Ashley's projects. To me, it's never really school work, but a little journey where she asks her students to find more and more pieces of themselves. (This better make you smile Ashley.)
One of the deepest things I took away is that compassion has to start with your own roots. To provide water to others, you cannot be collapsing from dehydration. This is something I will surely struggle with my entire life. I find myself to be the type of individual to give pieces of my well being away until there is nothing left but eyes filled with tears. Eyes that still glimmer seeing all the love in the world but fail to look upon the graveyard of my own body. I find it to be quite interesting, ironic actually, that I scream compassion at the top of my lungs and fail to recognize or even care when my throat is bleeding from so much noise. It's hard to love yourself, it truly truly is. And though I love the metaphor of interconnected ocean waves, an infinite blanket, I still silently push aside the needs of my individual drop. I have been ripping apart my own thread while trying to glue back the strings of others. So, the biggest insight that is following me outside of this assignment, is that I deserve to be part of the blanket just as much as any other thread. It's quite depressing actually, that I've been trying to rip my piece out for years, and I have to come to terms with the fact that if one string is removes, the entire framework of the blanket will be changed. Now I'm supposed to write about 4-6-1000 questions about myself/this project, that should be quite easy given all I do is question. 1) Why is it so innate for me to love others but not myself? 2) How can there be so much hate on one little world? 3) How can there be so much love on one little world? 4) What are daily routines/rituals I and other people can incorporate to bring compassion to themselves? 5) Will operation compassion be another great idea I never actually finish? Written Piece
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May 2016
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