What the Hell is Water
It’s 6:55am. Too early. I wish I were only waking just now instead of an hour ago but no dice. I was dreaming last night (and no one likes to hear anyone else’s dream so I’ll keep this short) that I was attacked by polar bears. There was one in particular who had it out for me, a sinister little fella. He gnashed his teeth and dove for the jugular. Instead, he gripped my head in his jaws and punctured my temporalis muscles and left me be. I woke thirsty, a nightly pattern. The internets say that grinding at night, high stress lifestyles, recent dental work, and chewing too much gum cause tight temporalis muscles. I don’t chew gum, don’t have a partner to tell me I’m grinding my teeth in the middle of the night, nor have I had recent dental work. That leaves, “high stress lifestyle,” which given my relatively easy lifestyle (I mostly sit in my underwear in front of a laptop, from wherever I might want to be either doing this or designing stuffs) seems rather puzzling. Eckhart Tolle says, “The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it.”
My thoughts about the current situation and by situation, I mean my lifestyle, is that it’s rather ritualistic and monotonous. I wake each day, make the bed, sit for a few minutes on the floor in a sort of half lotus position attempting to pay attention to the breath but largely thinking of breakfast, head to the gym and lift a weight, sometimes spoil myself with bacon & gruyere sous vide egg bites and a latte (see Full Bougie) afterwards from Starbucks, wash up, and then for the next eight or so hours, as mentioned, design stuffs. In the evening, it’s either Criterion Channel or a social beverage (and if you’ve been reading along, sometimes more than one) and further lotus positions to end the night.
That’s just about what it all looks like. I had a thought the other day that if your life is mostly boring, you’re probably doing it right. That’s an enormous departure, and slightly depressing thought on its own, from my earlier days. While I was in Miami a few months ago, I was describing my life to my friend Miguel (the fella in the image above), or complaining really, and threw the word ‘depression’ in there at some point. He listened, thought for a moment and said, “I hear this word ‘depression’ thrown around a lot these days. If you’re depressed, do something that excites you.” And then he was largely done with the conversation and turned to another person at the lunch table who had far more interesting things to say than I do or did. But I think he might be on to something.
His advice reminded me of another Eckhart Tolle quote, “There are two ways of being unhappy. Not getting what you want is one. Getting what you want is the other.” I seem to fall in the latter category. If I really consider all that I have going, I shouldn’t be complaining about anything other than sleep deprivation. Even that is of my own doing. I think we all know that caffeine, booze, and screens are essentially destroying the possibility of a decent night of suspended consciousness, and yet, the majority of us continue right on doing them. There are few people I know who say they’ve slept wonderfully the night before. It’s usually eye rubbing, yawning, additional caffeine intake, and further screen time which perpetuate poor sleep hygiene.
I don’t intend necessarily to demonize screens, social media, and the like but the bastards sure are addictive. At any moment we feel bored (and when aren’t us singletons bored?) there is the urge to see what someone else’s seemingly and continually inspiring lifestyle looks like in comparison to our own (it’s usually just photos in front of Machu Pichu, jumping in midair, or yet another shot of their kid or dog or both). Loneliness and social media…this is all well documented and needs no further analysis (at least not from me). However, I’ve heard a number of times recently from friends and family that they’re envious of my lifestyle. I’m here to tell you that there’s really nothing special about it. Unless of course, day in, day out, continued and extreme egocentricity seem desirable.
I recently watched David Foster Wallace’s 2005 commencement speech to the graduating class at Kenyon College. He opens with a parable…
There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes “What the hell is water?”
Perhaps Eckahart Tolle might explain that the fish, and we, are all living unconsciously, stuck in the mind and the ego, unaware of the current reality that is front of us—the present moment, the water we swim in. And perhaps Miguel, whose advice is to do something that excites you, might even say, ‘fuck the water, who cares,’ and he might be on to something. If you’re envious of my lifestyle, you should know that I spend far too much time wondering what the hell the water is, nearly forgetting my mother’s birthday (happy birthday mom), instead of getting on with it and just swimming for dear life in hopes of escaping subconscious polar bear attacks.
