Much Ado About Nothing

Well, my version of nothing

I often write about the things I know. It isn't usually to process--I write to make my formulated, yet jumbled, thoughts cohesive. For me, it’s more connection than creation.

Today, sitting in this coffee shop after delaying writing for weeks, I feel I might just know nothing. I know nothing about anything except that my mind is full of distractions that keep me from thoughts worth sharing. Or is it?

I frequently look for meaning in what consumes, entertains, and hurts me. But right now, I’m in the school, commitments, relationships, applications, practices, homework, what this means, and how I might get that done on time…there is much to make sense of and it’s all too close to see. I’ve never worn glasses, but perhaps I’m far-sighted.

So how do we solve our problems when we can hardly make room in our minds to consider them? Really, it’s a problem of Distributive Justice--which thoughts deserve the most resources (here, attention) when supply is limited? I present: “I Have Yet to Come Up With Meanings, but Here Are The Moments.”

I fought housing services over a month-long flood in my room, stared rejection in the face…multiple times, get shocked by every door handle, lost one Airpod a month ago, double-book myself twice a week, and consistently try to approach my entire to-do list at once (and inevitably fail). I often wonder about how I’m perceived, what I can do better, how to balance solitude and socializing, and what is within or out of my control.

And that’s it. I don’t have answers or solutions. But, in some ways, I suppose I don’t have problems either. Instead, I have a dynamic set of experiences better known as ordinary “life”... and, yes, it pains me to be this cliché.

I think of a Daoist story my father once told me (which I shared at my high school graduation, if it appears familiar). An old farmer refuses to qualify experiences as good or bad; they just are. While I tend to find this perspective cynical, its practicality is undeniable.

So, perhaps the leak in my room does not need to be so annoying, the rejection so painful, and the lack of creativity so discouraging. While I love understanding what my experiences mean, sometimes they don’t need to mean anything yet.

Where is the joy in a constant rush to accomplish, produce, or understand? Let me remind us (...myself) to slow down and forgive ourselves--all the meanings will come when we are most ready to receive them.