A Maze With No Exit

There’s a great video on youtube about this Sushi chef in New York. Customers pay an astounding price to eat at his restaurant. The seating is extremely limited and reservations are made months in advance. I believe the menu is tailored to the specific customers for the day, but I may be mistaken. It’s been a while since I watched it but the important part has stuck with me. The habits that sushi chef had shaped for himself – from arriving hours early, sharpening his knives, and prepping each dish – struck me deeply.

I watched another short documentary recently about a salt farmer in Mexico who is the only person left to keep his family’s tradition of salt making alive. He is poor, breaks his back daily, and has no intent on stopping.

I think about monks from time to time. Each day they rise early and pray. They spend time performing labor-some tasks. They thank God before each meal. Then they go back to work. Each day to them is similar in action, but unique in joy.

Advancements in technology have made information, entertainment, and communication available in a flash. Our minds are jumping every 5 seconds and have been conditioned to demand stimulation at a moment’s notice. Yet we wonder why rates of depression and anxiety continue to climb.

If you’ve ever played a video game, you’re likely familiar with the concept of playing as a single character who continues to improve his skills in order to attain his overarching objective. You retrieve plants and use them to craft medicine and food. You perform tasks and are rewarded with money. You purchase stronger weapons and your enemies are no longer as threatening. It’s fun because it simulates what real life is supposed to be – without the real work.

We can develop habits that place us in the pathway of success. If you want to improve your writing, you can study books. Or you can write. Or you can provide feedback for other writers. If you want to film a special effect you are unfamiliar with, simply type it into youtube and you will find a tutorial that suits your needs.

Each hour of every day we receive the gift of time. We can choose to spend that time developing our own character to progress toward our personal goals, or we can waste that time on consuming the products of others.

There is a generous reward provided to those who routinely devote their time to habitual improvement. The reward is not always the gift of prosperity and acclaim. The reward is found in the joy that comes from living with purpose.

When I find that I am depressed, sad, or anxious, I find that the core of my beliefs has often shifted. I fall so far into consumerism that I have allowed the thoughts, opinions, and products of others shape my worldview. At the center of my flawed belief is the idea that their is no pathway to success, joy, or meaningful production.

I often think of a study that was once conducted with mice. The mice were placed in a maze that had no way to exit. For a time, the mice tried relentlessly. They took new routes and made different turns hoping to find an exit that they had previously passed over. Eventually they stopped searching. Instead they slumped over and rested, finally learning to be content with accepting that escape was an impossibility. But the researchers performing the study waited until this point in time to finally lift a barrier and allow for a clear pathway to freedom. Do you know what the mice did? They remained sleeping, and stopped looking for the exit altogether. They remained trapped, but unbeknownst to them their freedom would have only taken a few more attempts.

Throughout life it’s easy to look back on past efforts and shortcomings and conclude that the success we desire is simply not in the cards for us. “Seek and you shall find.” Though we might not see the path we have been looking for, it does us no good to accept misery as an inevitability. We must get up, we must gather our tools, and we must get to work.

The Dream is free but the Pain cost a Lifetime

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Painful brush strokes imagination, is this talent or procrastination.

See the fault of others true, cannot judge my own work too.

Painful headaches modest scoff, writing words or losing thoughts.

What’s the point of point of view, when you’re the biggest fan for you.

So damn subjective so many accuse, I’m wasting time to feel the blues.

One more edit, maybe two, after that I think I’m through.

Have persisted through so much, have not yet made a single buck.

How does that one sad story go, the one where reality is always cold?

Well oh well I guess that’s it, I hope my talent is not too stink.

– Thomas M. Watt

The Man Runs

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The man walked. He walked and while he was walking the demons were following him. They latched onto both of his shoulders, one wrapped around his waist, and another clasped to both of his ankles. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t.

No.

He had been here before. This wasn’t the first time he felt this sluggish. This was not the first he had been tied down by the worst of thoughts – How awful he was, how terrible those around him were, and how unchanging the problems always were.

They seemed.

He didn’t no why, but he knew this was the truth. He knew it was the truth because he had been here before. He had heard what he could not do. He had been told many times before that he was weak, doomed to fail, and not cut out for anything good.

The man walked faster.

Why? What was it that he had seen before that he could not see currently? Was it his lack of a sports drink? Was it his ambivalence towards healthy eating habits? Was he simply not cut out for a run?

No. He could run. He could move his legs faster and then find out how far they carried him. He decided not to give up before he even started.

The man jogged.

At first his breath felt heavy. His weight felt heavy. One of the demons from his shoulders fell off. Then another one, from his waist.

Wait. He was not a loser. He was not as bad as they said. He was currently down, but he had been down before, and he had also been up in the time in between. And the people around him – why were they so bad? For petty faults? Everybody had petty faults. He had petty faults.

The man ran.

The demon from his ankles fell off. He was not bound to sports drinks. He was not defeated by physical things. He owned physical things. He owned physical things because his power did not come from physical things, it came from somewhere else, somewhere from above, and the power worked through his heart.

The final demon fell off. Yes. That was how it went. He could run. He could run and beat many people at running. He was not getting tired, no. The less he worried about how tired he would get, the less tired he got. In fact, he got more energy. He pumped his legs faster, and it felt good.

The man sprinted.

He smiled. The wind swept through his hair and he felt light. Like it was no longer himself who had to carry him. Like his body was moving by way of another source. And the source was not from anything he had eaten, or anything he had done to manufacture. The power came from above. And if the power came from above, to help him, then what could possibly stop him? If he was not bound to whether or not he consumed a sports drink, then what was he bound too? If his power came from a source greater than the confines of the world, than what left was there which could confine him?

The man bolted. He charged, jumped, smiled and laughed. The man was not a loser. The man was invincible, because the source springing up in him was invincible.

The man kept running.

– Thomas M. Watt

The Walls before Us

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A man with grass stains on his jeans and blisters on his hands fell down on the pavement. He hardly managed to catch himself, and even after he did, he dropped himself back down and sprawled his limbs flat to the black concrete anyways.

He remained there, lying face down, until a hand finally took hold of his. He looked up and saw the silhouette of a brown, curly head of hair.

“What do you want?” He said to her.

She chuckled. “I want to help you.”

The man used his hand as a visor to guard the intense rays of the sun, and her face finally came into view. She had thin lips, brown hair, and the sexiest hazel eyes he’d ever seen.

The man groaned as he returned to his feet. He brushed his jeans off. “Why do you want to help me? Nobody wants to help me.”

She smiled sweetly. “I want to help you because you are so close to victory and you don’t even realize it.”

The man grumbled again. “You’re outta your mind lady. I’m not close and I never was, neither.”

She laughed, and the two started walking together.

“Why can’t you see?” She said.

“What?” He returned, pressing his left eyelids nearly closed.

“Why are you so blind?”

“Blind! Lady you got no idea the problems I’m dealing with!”

She stopped him, put her hands on his shoulders, then stared directly into his eyes as she spoke. “And how many times before have you encountered a scenario you were certain could not be overcome? How many times before did you think you were finished, only to live on? Things are not as they appear. There is a way to victory, I promise you that.”

“Why? How?” He said at once.

She smiled sweetly. “Are you so lost? The why and how does not matter. What matters is that you go on in the belief that there is a way.”

The man shook his head, scoffed, then looked away. “Yeah, well… How am I supposed ta-” He began, before suddenly catching himself after looking back.

The lady was gone.

I never did a single thing in my life I didn’t at first believe could be done. And I never heard an interview where the person being questioned looked lost, out of place, and had no idea how they randomly wound up succeeding. Happy 100th post Wattie nation. When all hope is lost, place your belief in what is above finding you a way out. Watch what happens.

– Thomas M. Watt

The Man who Tried

There was once a man who didn’t give a damn,

Who tried and he tried and he tried.

The pain brought on tears and oh so many fears,

Of hopes to make his dreams come alive.

The nights all grew dark at that cold winter park,

The swing just always kept swingin’.

But he held on until blue skies at dawn,

The clouds and dreary winds all stopped sweeping.

He had no more fear about losing his years,

Didn’t give a damn about drinkin’,

Tried with his might on those lonely nights,

No time for a lesson on sleeping.

He chose the pain of hope not gone astray,

Chose to believe in the line.

Of sights less known and hopes fully grown,

Of mastering what he was thinkin’.

This man came through and found morning dew,

And summer’s sun started peakin’.

And wouldn’t you know it, the man didn’t show it,

But boy there were tears deep inside.

For his hope came to be and his dream’s destiny,

Was for his life to finally shine.

Boy yes it did, his vacated fear, his years lost to those lonely drives.

Because he fuckin’ did it, yes that man he did it, because he tried and he tried and he tried.

– Thomas M. Watt