About effort and contentment
This is an entry from my journal in which I comment about the sincerity of effort and the resulting emotional stability.
I publish what I write because I am happy with my effort. I give it my undivided attention and I try to the best of my abilities. I thus know that this is a reflection of who I am and of what I can do right now, given the prevailing conditions. By publishing it, I grant myself the freedom to proceed unburdened.
The more I do this, the better I become at productivity in general and intellectuality in particular. Each publication chronicles my efforts at self-improvement: they speak to my unyielding competitiveness and the attendant commitment to excellence.
Prior works are thus of a lesser quality than current works, assuming my present ability is still improving. Therefore, my contentment cannot be a function of achieving perfection but of something else altogether: emotional stability. I am neither dismayed nor elated by my efforts. What I did yesterday belongs to the past: it is not enough anymore. I am eager to try anew.
The moment I have nothing to add other than “I used to” is when I quit. This is what makes me as sharp as the owl’s talons: for as long as I am around, I am decisive.
To perfect what I wrote, say, ten years ago, I would have to keep editing it until the present. But if I were to do so, then I would lack the skills I have developed in the meantime. As such, I would continue to think that my current ability leaves something to be desired; something inchoate, elusive, frightening.
No task can be concluded then. This, in turn, engenders feelings of regret, resentment, failure. Those create the conditions for their continuation by manifesting as low self-esteem. This is a matter of habit, of compounding regrets, and of a prevailing sense of self-deprecation.
People who lack confidence in some capacity of theirs have gotten used to relevant patterns of behaviour that are underpinned by second thoughts. They are stymied by that lingering “what if”. Theirs is the state of mind that plays and replays scenaria in order to distract from the here-and-now of the attendant emotional instability.
First comes the admission: why am I not looking at the cause of guilt? Then comes its rectification. To achieve contentment one must do the deed in earnest. They have to offer it their undivided attention, such that they dispel all doubt. Every ounce of conscience is instrumentalised in pursuit of this singular objective.
Publishing my works, which are replete with strong opinions and unequivocal statements, constitutes a form of emotional compaction. I am untouchable because even at the depths of my heart, I understand that I could not have offered any more of my vitality. My best self in the moment is the only reality I can achieve and may aspire towards. Anything beyond that is a form of self-punishment.
Those who say “I should be up there” when all they can achieve is down here, they are already harming themselves. Theirs is the desire for attention that even pity can satisfy. They are sabotaging the very initialisation of the project by setting the bar so high that it can only intimidate them into inaction, which then justifies the misplaced want to be pitiable.
Holding on to works denies the future self from becoming. It hinders the potential for betterment. Sincere effort to the best of one’s current abilities is a form of skyward gratitude: it recognises, respects, and honours whatever one is endowed with. From recognition comes the outlook of excellence, which consists in making more out of less: leading everything to the best it can be, such that even an objectively low level is already impressive given the initial conditions.
Lack of self-confidence masquerades as a concern for what others may think. It may be expressed as fear or as yearning for validation. This fundamentally is a distraction. The others are irrelevant when the self is already expressing contempt for its state of being.
Change comes from within as does contentment, even if others are involved in an ancillary role. It starts with respect for the little things. Here is the honest effort, which is the honourable effort. One by one, it proceeds through minor wins to cultivate the ethos of correctness: to perform the deed without distractions, to admit that the end product is a reflection of one’s current ability, and to continue the same way until the end.