It is funny to me how applicable our readings have become in this class, due to my obsession with criticizing each piece. Ram Dass’ chapter on Burnout explains precisely the things that I am dealing with. Things like “the deeper wisdom which knows its place and accepts Not Knowing” (207), the “moments when we are not at all sure what our actions have really amounted to” (206), reaching “a deeper sense of who we are, discover[ing] how much more we have” (187) all are topics of conversations that I have been having with my peers over the last week.
For architecture students, this part of the semester is always the most dreaded and grueling. Our final project, a seven week long design project, has been assigned and every new class we are expected to further on our iterations in hopes that we find enlightenment from a piece of chipboard that we randomly cut out the night before. To make things worse, we lack any positive feedback or congratulatory nods for our efforts. The nature of the program is to make you more comfortable with being vulnerable and stand by your ideas, however, the task is very weighted. In the past day, I have had two conversations that have ‘hit home’ regarding WHO I AM, and what I am meant to do.
Last night, my friend Chelsea and I sat down and started venting about the program – as usual. These conversations are always cyclical in nature, and seem to come to the same conclusion: the schooling that we have opted to take part in is only part of the process, and things will get better. In essence, we have lost what Dass refers to as the Witness who “functions steadily in the present, moment to moment, observing how focused we are in the future while only appearing to be active in the here and now” (190). Maybe we are too young to find any greater meaning out of what we are doing, and this is part of the journey to be enjoyed, but it is very hard for me to find contentment without knowing what is ahead of me. As for the other conversation, it was this morning with another friend, Kelsey. I was expressing my most recent qualms in how uninspired I have become, and how I lack any enthusiasm. She told me that in her perception, I am probably the happiest person she knows, and am surrounded by friends all the time, and didn’t understand how that could result in any depressed state of mind. That was when I realized what has been going on: my eternal desire to be around people is only a method for pushing away the larger concerns at hand. I constantly depend on my relationships with others to satiate the missing, and unanswered questions in my life, “the inner conflict between head and heart awakened” (188) through talking to her.
This July will mark the two year anniversary of my father’s death, and I am still feeling the repercussions of the event. I know that I have mentioned this before, but I do not think that I have been completely honest in how my life was affected, and realize that in order to grow from my experiences, I have to acknowledge their presence, and I do so today knowing that what is done is done.
I feel that the most applicable part of Dass’ burnout discussion for me is when he talks about how “in the presence of the suffering of others and their insistent needs, we observe the mind’s fear and defensiveness” (188). In previous entries, I have mentioned the relationship that my father and I had, albeit not so close; though I do much revere him as one of the best men I have come to know. At the time that he was diagnosed with his ailment, the fear and defensiveness took over me. Immediately I detached myself from the situation at all costs, and being immature did not want to deal with even my own father’s problems. In the days left in that summer whenever my father was allowed to return to my house after surgery, I closed myself off from society and the life on the ground floor, subjecting myself to the living room upstairs. I spent endless hours avoiding conversation with a man who I knew was suffering, and for reasons unknown, I resented. Whenever I got my hardship license, it was my familial duty to drive my dad to and from doctor’s appointments, and eventually to work when needed. I gripped the steering wheel tightly and clenched my jaw shut during those rides. I never really have expressed these feelings to many people before and have tried to put them past me without recognizing them, but it is time to stop living that lie. Everyday I regret not capitalizing on those silent hours and not learning from my father. These insecurities are what drive me to do so much better in the life that I lead today. I had not even allowed myself the opportunity to help, but shied away in fear: fear from seeing my father’s virility stripped away from him, and becoming susceptible to the unwarranted dangers of the world that I felt immune to.
I preach about this all the time, but I truly feel that internal changes are being made. Although I have so many reservations about the person who I am today, I am trying to enjoy it and be honest with myself. The world in which we life, and live in general is not easy. I do my best to help others by sharing myself, and I thoroughly enjoy when others’ allow me that from them.
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