Random Ideas

To write on something random, it means that there are no preconceived notions of what it’ll be about. In order for this to be effective (and productive), a routine of writing had to be in order.

It’s kind of like journal writing. Journal writing is about being spontaneous–letting the ideas flow without hinderance, such as pausing to edit. Whereas journaling draws inspiration from one’s own experience, writing an essay, story, or a reflection piece draws its inspiration from the strength of an idea itself. If the random idea(s) is inspirational, it can take a writer down many pages of written words.

When someone gets in to the habit of writing, the ideas will flow off their fingertips, even if they’re not sure what to write about or what the end result will be. They can write as if they were free-styling or playing a musical instrument. In those cases, the words or the notes flow based on feeling and rhythm. The same can happen with writing. It’s as if the thoughts are building up to a crescendo. Afterward, the words take them where the work needs to go.

Changes of Belief

We go through phases where we question our beliefs. As we change them, we become new persons. Our former selves fade into the past, and our new selves are born.

Why do we go through such phases? To exist means to be in a state of becoming, right? In existentialist philosophy, you are never the same as you were yesterday, since each choice redefines you, gives you new purpose, a new meaning.

And where does this choice come from? From our thoughts. And our thoughts form our beliefs. And our beliefs change the way we see ourselves and the world around us. And the beliefs rest on premises we hold to be true about reality and existence itself.

As we change our beliefs, it is for the purpose of maturity, of personal growth–self improvement. We discard the worn out and outdated modes of thought–principles that fail to explain the world around us, or are unsuccessful in improving our lives.

Each day, we go through a transformation. Our experiences shape what we know, but in our reasoning, we form our beliefs. Each year, we keep some beliefs, discard others, and in the process, we struggle with questions which ones are true and which ones aren’t.

So what are we in the end? Do our beliefs define us, or do they merely help us understand what is happening in the world, as well as determine our choices and guide us to our goals? Perhaps it’s a combination of both. Besides, they are what shape our personality. Aren’t all of us unique?

How many people would say that they hold on to the same beliefs now that they did ten years ago? How about twenty years ago? And if they do, would they claim that their knowledge and understanding of their beliefs hadn’t increased over time? Thus, if knowledge and understanding increases over time, then that means that the meaning of that belief has changed, hasn’t it? Just as it would be true for me to say that the meaning of mathematics has changed with time, since it’s no longer just about passing tests in the classroom, but applicable in my finances and the calculation of interest rates, etc.

Thus, the meaning about something depends on the beliefs we have about it.

Thus, we must ask ourselves what is a belief? It’s a set of ideas about values, or it could be a theory about the way things work (or should work). Are beliefs malleable? Can they be changed in an instant? Perhaps some can and some cannot–just as it’s hard to undo lifelong habits or get rid of assumptions or expectations we’ve grown up with.

Sometimes beliefs change gradually, and sometimes they can change in an instant. It all depends on what we’re going through, what experiences occur. If something extreme and sudden happens that shatters our beliefs, we’re apt to change them immediately. But if the changes are subtle and nuanced, it can take months or years to turn our beliefs around.

For example, we might hold certain beliefs about how to create art, not to mention which discipline(s) of art we want to pursue. But as we go through the motions of creating art in multiple disciplines, we come to discover which ones we enjoy, and which ones we dislike. At the end of a year, we’ll have come to a conclusion of which discipline(s) to keep practicing, and which one(s) to cease practicing.

Also, our skills will be more developed, and our aesthetic style will take shape. Year after year, if we keep up with the discipline(s), everything about our work will have evolved. We’ll have explored and learned more techniques, and our choice in subjects will have varied. And after so many years, it takes on a certain aesthetic that is our own.

Consider the famous painters of the past (Monet, Van Gogh, etc.), and how their art has evolved. Can anyone look at a work of art they made in their twenties and say it’s the same (or equal to in quality) what they created in their later years?

This can apply to anything in life. A career, our habits, our hobbies, the choices we make, etc. Thus, we are never static in our beliefs. Our beliefs are always changing. And if we change, then that means we are always seeking answers.

Dimming Light

When daylight turns to darkness, the change of light becomes gradual–almost imperceptible. Our eyes adjust to the dimming light, and we wait for the darkness to completely sweep over the sky. But not to worry, we have electricity and lights. We go about our day as usual.

And how many times in our lives have we seen the dimming light? What did it mean in the different phases of our lives? In some cases, it meant that we had to hurry to get somewhere. In other cases, it meant that we had to finish up a paper for college, finish up work, or finish the preparations for an event.

It means something different for each age, each geographic region, and for each individual. We have seen the dimming light so many times that we automatically adjust our patterns to adapt to it. We follow routines according to the clock: the time we tune in to a TV show, when we eat dinner, and the hour at which we sleep. Our lives revolve around time so much that it has become a part of how we live. But throughout the ages, people’s lives were not centered on the clock.

The dimming light meant that they had to build a fire or return back to camp. It meant that they had to stop working, give themselves time to rest.

But in our case, we continue to work, or busy ourselves with technology or social events. Perhaps the dimming light is sign for us to be still (see my last post). Perhaps it’s a sign that the night is supposed to be our time of rest–as it’s always been.

Stillness

When we are still, we could hear everything around us that we couldn’t while we were moving. It’s not that the sounds weren’t there, but that we didn’t pick up on them when we were preoccupied.

Being still for even a minute can be a struggle. We are so used to moving and being busy that to purposely do nothing for a minute seems like a strange thing to do. But when we become still, we acutely notice the sky, the breeze, the air, which continue to move around us. We become keenly aware that they exist independently of us, that we exist amidst them.

And when we are still, as if we have a “Spidey sense” of what’s going on. We can hear things clearer. We notice the change of light, the movement of shadows, the humming of machines, the rustling of branches and leaves. It’s as if we see beyond ourselves.

Overloaded

Our minds get overloaded when it’s exposed to too much noise, too much work, too much news, too many activities, etc. Our minds can only handle so much before it shuts down. And when it shuts down, it needs silence–nothing else.

As information and current events become more instantaneously available to us, it’s easy to feel like we can’t keep up. The influx of data fills up our minds more than we can handle. More isn’t necessarily better though. We need a break from the noise and the influx of information that seems so infinitesimal in the long run.

In our daily lives, we get caught up with the busyness of our responsibilities. When we’re doing too many tasks at once, we’re prone to forget things. They can be details such as leaving something on (i.e. the stove) or forgetting to lock the door on the way out to work. Overload causes the circuits in our brain to misfire, to scramble in desperation at the cost of doing things properly.

One of the best solutions is to do just the opposite: to decompress, relax. Sometimes I just close my eyes and be still. Or I remove myself from a noisy or chaotic place so that I can collect myself, calm my mind. After a brief repose, I feel recharged.

Reading Phases

Many years ago, I read over 40 or 50 books in a year. It wasn’t something I planned, but something that just happened out of the natural curiosity to read and learn as much as I can. I was reading every week–hours each day. I read voraciously as if I my imagination had an unlimited appetite, as if I needed to learn everything about the world.

Out of all those books, only a handful were great. Most of them were good, and a select few were boring. I ventured out to read books that were considered classics (The Great Gatsby, A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, etc.), and some for my own interest (Kurt Vonnegut books, War of the Worlds, etc.).

The number of books I’ve read has diminished each year as I got busier with work and with life (traveling, writing, etc.). Though my reading habits have shifted to online articles and short stories, my thirst for knowledge still remains.

I go through phases where I read intensely, and go through phases where I devote my time to writing or planning the next story. I often switch between these phases because staying in one phase for too long runs the risk of burning me out or losing enthusiasm for it. Variety is key to find balance. One half of me wants to learn from other writers–how they tell stories, how they create characters–and the other half of me wants to exercise and develop my creativity.

I can’t say I remember much in great detail about all the books I’ve read. Even my favorite books are just fragments and bits and pieces of awesome scenes in the recesses of my mind. Each book I finished has left an impression on me, though some are more vivid than others.

Reading a book is like peering through a window into a new world. It’s a world of ideas, conflicts, intrigue, and characters. Some books may not resonate with us, but for the ones that do, they stay with us as if we lived through the experience.

Turning Around

Have you driven to a store, only to turn back around before parking and going inside? Or have you ever driven somewhere, almost reached your destination, and then changed your mind at the last second?

I don’t mean to say that you left because the store was closed. I mean to say that a thought passed through your mind that convinced you that you were making the wrong decision. It’s as if you had a sixth sense that something wasn’t right, that you were about to make the wrong decision if you had followed through.

I believe these things happen for a reason. It’s as if something had intervened–the universe, the supernatural, what have you. Like one of those strange coincidences where you have deja vu and it reminds you of a dream, a nightmare, or a memory. You turn around, go the other way, and don’t look back.

Fading

When we put off great ideas for long enough, they begin to fade. But for how long? Will they be permanently forgotten?

Ideas have a way of floating back to our mind–of reminding us of something that we are seeking. It’s as if they’re giving us a second chance–shouting at us to look in their direction. The wisest thing we can do is to accept the calling and see where it takes us.

But when we’re in the throes of life, ideas get set aside so that we can focus on our priorities. As a consequence, those ideas fade more and more until they become forgotten.

Weeks or months go by, and they might resurface. Or they might sneak their way into another project–pretending that they belong there. Sometimes the ideas are just too good to let go of and leave behind. But sometimes they are so fragile that they can be lost forever.

One thing I do is that I write my ideas down the moment I become aware of them. Even if I write a sentence or a bullet point on a post-it note, that can make all the difference. When I come back to them later (which can be weeks or months), I find that I can either use the ideas or repurpose them for something else.

It’s kind of like an old short story or novel that never saw the light of day. Years later, they could speak to us in a different light–resonant with us now. We just didn’t know it then, but they needed time to grow.

Spontaneity

Spontaneity can lead to disaster or genius when it comes to working on a great idea. For example, we should start working on it while it is fresh in our minds. When we do so, we can utilize the momentum and energy we have for it to bring it into fruition. If we hesitate, then we will lose the initiative to start working on the project.

Being spontaneous can lead to disaster if it’s an idea that goes nowhere or needs more time to grow. And if this is the case, it might be one of those ideas where we look back and say: “I had no idea what I was doing.”

When an idea requires a lot of planning, we must evaluate what the logistics are, as well as how much time is needed to complete it. But if an idea is something that’s short and simple, being spontaneous gives us the kickstart to begin working on it.

Some ideas need a kickstart or they wouldn’t have existed. In this case, spontaneity can mean sketching the idea on a napkin or typing it in the computer. But as with writing, we should always have drafts of our work. Thus, most projects begin spontaneously, but they are completed after a lot of planning and work.

Brain Games

I enjoy puzzles and games since they make us think and analyze problems. I play games like chess, sudoku, as well as word puzzles. Beyond that, games like Clue and Monopoly can be considered brain games. Why? Because you have to make decisions, plan things out in advance, and draw conclusions based on what you know (or what your goal is).

Brain games are fun, but the most important thing we do with our intelligence is apply them in the real world (or in the things we create). Although it might not seem like a brain exercise, writing can be a brain game in itself. The act of writing is creative, almost spontaneous, but when you get to the editing, so many crucial decisions have to be made. You have to decide what to cut, keep, modify, and add. I find myself thinking for hours sometimes on how to resolve a plot conflict or how to develop a story.

Brain games are definitely cool and fun, but when we manifest our intelligence in reality through the things we create and solve, that is the most rewarding thing.