Lately, I’ve been wondering a lot: What am I doing? What is my actual damage?
This zealousness to help others—to solve problems—is it possible to go too far?
When my loved ones complain enough, at one point I can’t just listen. I have to try solving it for them if they aren’t taking the steps to resolve things themselves.
The real problem though, is that—obviously—many things can’t be resolved on behalf of someone else. Things like internal work, emotional and intellectual development, etc.
But…when money can solve the issue, I feel like it’s free game to deal with it on my own, even without their explicit plea for help. Like some type of solutions bandit.
If a problem can be solved by simply throwing money at it, then that’s what I “should” do. But as I’ve done many things to help out by paying monetarily, I’ve realized my real problem:
I use money as a tool to escape real responsibility and growth.
I mean, why deal with something when a simple thing like money can make it all go away?
And so the next important question becomes: how badly am I neglecting myself?
Why am I so desperate to help others where I can, just because there are other areas where I can’t help by the simple tossing of coinage? And how does that even count as “making up for it?” It’s all an illusion—a denial I afford myself.
In my rush to help and solve, other problems are capable of arising. You solve one issue, and all of a sudden new ones pop up–and what’s worse, is that they only popped up because of the original “solution.”
I’m trying to help everyone but myself. So is this just another iteration of projection of myself onto others? I’ll seek anyone out to see what problems they have, and how I can fix their lives. And yet, I avoid every single thing that would actually build up my own life.
Why do other people’s problems matter more to me? Why does it feel like I’m only actually doing something in this world if I’m doing it for someone else?
I always say “you can’t pour from an empty cup,” so then why am I always intent on helping others instead of myself? Not even first, just instead.
I’d like to think that at least this type of projection is more honorable. But really, it’s selfish. It gives me some sense of accomplishment where I have no stake—no skin in the game—no threat to my ego if I can’t fix the issue and therefore realize the true level of my inadequacy.
But whether a projection of myself is a spoken judgment, or a thought judgment of someone else, the bottom line is that focusing my energies on an other is inefficient.
Focusing on others is easy. It’s the lowest hanging fruit when you’re avoiding your own problems, and avoiding your own self. I should know better.
I mean how can you help anyone, when you’re not even helping yourself?
Intellectually, I know that the only way to make any type of change or progress, is by serving myself, being true to myself, and being the example for myself first. The goal should never be to fix anyone else.
Only by actively working on myself, can anyone else observe my life, and maybe glean lessons for themselves—use ideas in their own ways, or come to their own realizations and epiphanies.
So maybe my way to help has to be passive-looking to the world. My toils can be active, and private. And when my art finally becomes creation outside of my mind and body, then can it be a transcendent help to others.
The credit isn’t the point, but somehow I still find myself seeking external vindication that I am indeed helping other beings. Why can’t helping myself and therapizing myself, and authentically living with honor for myself be enough for me to accept that it’s worthwhile living this physical life?
Why can’t I live every day not always having to seek inspiration and motivation somewhere else? How nice it must be to live a life waking up to do anything and everything I want without hostage negotiating my own happiness.
I imagine being so excited to wake up every day looking forward to the next project, the next work, the next fun. To live naturally and simply, and as adventurously as I’d like, and know that everything I do is simply play—experimentation, science, creation, merely an experience to indulge in. Not some reward I get only if I serve everyone but myself.
And while I’m hoping this genuine desire to help others never goes away—I’d like to be at the point someday where I don’t rely on that transactional confirmation to feel good about my participation in this life experience.
Maybe it can be a pleasant side achievement, but the point will always be to love myself, and actualize my own desires. And that by being true to my spirit, others might see the hope and possibility to live their own lives in whatever wonderfulness they desire.
One day I’ll be there. Theoretically, I already am that thing. So all I can do in these moments—these present days, is do everything for my own benefit—the benefit of the self that is not this body, but residing in this physical identity. The true “me”—which is the awareness of this state of consciousness. The author of everything. The perception of everything. A divine creator. In human form for now. In existence forever. A spiritual knowingness surpassing time, space, and this “reality.”
An infinite consciousness rebirthing itself in many forms and universes to love and to share the boundless creativity of expression with. Loving itself truly and without conditions, so that this affection can exist without the basic human instinct, without the ego.
