Any active user of Facebook is likely a witness to the veritable deluge of motivational memes that make up every other item in their daily newsfeed. No longer content with desperate-looking kittens telling us to “Hang In There”, Internet users will now search far and wide for quotations from well-known public figures, such as Gandhi, Oscar Wilde, or the ever famous Anonymous telling people how to live their lives, often with poetic flair. Or those weird E-Card things that always seem to involve wine offering simple comforts to those who might read them.

What these hokey memes tell me is that most people are miserable. The lady doth life-affirm too much, me thinks. Nobody shouts out life advice into the void unless they’re trying to make themselves feel better about whatever bullshit-du-jour is troubling them.

So since everybody seems to have a perpetual case of the Mondays, I decided to let everybody in on a little secret: you are awesome. Not you as a person, obviously. You’re probably an asshole. But you as a Self.

The Self is an amazing concept. Nietzsche hypothesized that we as individuals are all value-creators. What this means is that nothing actually has any inherent or objective meaning and value. While some might find this depressing, in reality it is actually empowering because we can realize that the value of things actually comes from us. The example I like to use is of that of the jilted lover. Say you just got dumped, and you’re all sad because of emotions. If you realize that you are the one creating value, you realize that the love you felt wasn’t inherent to that jerkwad who doesn’t know what’s good for them, but was something that was created by you. That power, that passion, comes from you. You can feel it again, because you are the one that is capable of creating it in the first place. You might think this is a fairly self-centred way of looking at things, but if somebody loves you, realize that they are creating that value, and choosing you to be the recipient of it. To be loved becomes an incredible honour.

Value-creation doesn’t just apply to love, but to everything. Before I left for India, I was terrified, but I repeated to myself over and over: “The only reason I find this scary is because I believe it to be scary. The act itself isn’t imbued with any actual value.” Does this lessen the value of things if we are the ones deciding what has worth and what does not? If you have low self-esteem, maybe. If you don’t think you are worth the things that you feel, then perhaps you should keep reading because I’m hoping this post will inspire certain amounts of self-worth. Or you could just abandon ship here and go find some more motivational E-Cards. I’ll never know the difference.

Another important aspect of the Self is Sartre’s theory of Existence before Essence. If what defines you, your essence, exists before you do, then you are bound forever to that definition. However, if what defines you comes after, then your life becomes the definition of your being. Each act that you partake in adds to the collection of moments that make up who you are. With your boundless freedom, you can perpetually create and recreate who you want to be.

Lastly, when you truly know your Self, you become invulnerable. Switching from Existentialism to Buddhism now, let’s look at the words of Chagdud Tulku: ‘Sit in front of a mirror, look at your reflection, and insult it: “You’re ugly. You’re bad.” Then praise it: “You’re beautiful. You’re good.” Regardless of what you say, the image remains as it is.‘ What this means is that when you know your strengths, when you know your faults, everything else becomes superfluous, because you know the truth. When you know what you’re capable of, when you know who you are, you no longer fear rejection or criticism, nor do you require praise. This isn’t to suggest stagnation, nor an assumption that the Self should never be challenged. However, when you know the truth about your Self, you will know what challenges you need to face, and can endeavour towards overcoming them. You will know what matters.

Is this the equivalent of a drawn out meme with a picture of a smiling Leonard Cohen with a heart-warming quotation next to it? Meh, could be. But I’m not suggesting good things are going to happen to you if you understand what it means to have a Self. Nor am I suggesting that recognizing these things will make you a better person. Like I said, we’re working under the assumption that you’re an asshole, and I doubt a blog post is going to change that. This isn’t the power of positive thinking, nor is it putting out good energy results in the universe smiling down on you: believing in bullshit will get you nowhere.

Knowing about what makes up the Self, however, will at least give you the confidence to be an asshole with decent self-esteem, because having a Self, no matter who you are, is actually pretty sweet.

Post-Script: not to devolve this into a religious post, because it’s not, but believing in a creator God negates all of these things. God creates value, and God gives the purpose to your life before you are born. Not saying that one way is better than the other, but just keep in mind the discrepancy if you want to believe in both.

Reality
It seems
Is not a string of songs
One after another; blotting out and drowning
The world

It is a symphony; thrown together by an unwitting orchestra
Each playing their part
Filling the void
With ambiance

The choir a cacophony of voices; overlapping to form a bubbling hum,
Only the occasional overheard scratch at the veneer into the lives
Of others

A chorus of motors; white noise against the silence of the sky
Trucks roar a crescendo above the din, and
The buses hiss, keeping time at every stop

Nature is the only one aware of the music that engulfs it;
Birds sing along with the rest of us,
While the wind in the trees exhales the notes of a pause

At last, the staccato applause of heels on concrete;
Steady, unbroken clapping
Showing unconscious appreciation
For the rhythm of the city

With hearing no longer impaired,
The world offers a unique melody
The only requirement is
To listen

Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to genuinely and perfectly relive moments of the past. To experience it again through all my senses, rather than merely my mind’s eye. The smells, the sights, the tastes in memory that would normally just be broken fragments, whispers of yesterday, would become palpable once more. I imagine not just remembering the look in her eyes, but truly seeing them gaze back into mine; once again knowing me, disarming me. To replicate the bliss and ecstasy of love, the tingle of held hands. Would I ever leave this palace of the past? This sepulcher of my former moments? Would I purposefully scratch the record, allowing the phonograph to loop, over and over, the happiness I once lived? Better than any drug, would its joys sap me of any connection to the present? To the future?

Memory, however, is not perfect. It fades in time; drifting, as we all do, towards oblivion. Occasionally, I remember. A familiar smell; an old photograph. All of a sudden she is here again, but through a veil. The emotions return distorted. The memory is insincere. An imperfect reflection of the original. And inevitably, it too drifts away. The smell dissipates; I put away the photograph. These events become memories themselves. Another fold overlapping, deepening the veil. The distance from the past widens further. Are these traps? Nettles and barbs that cling to me, dragging me down into an impossible crevasse? There is no bottom to hit; I try harder and harder to grasp at a wisp of smoke, and it smiles beautifully as it evaporates in front of me.

Are these traps? Or are they promises? Promises of memories yet to come. Reminders that new hands can be held; new eyes can disarm me. Does the imperfection of memories drive me to discover more? To seek out new joys, new happiness. To no longer desperately clutch at the fleeting images of the past, but to strive out boldly into the future; unsure of the quality of memories to be created, but confident in my ability to try. I have done this before. I can do it again. I will see again. I will smell again. I will feel again. She is a memory, but she will not be the only one. There will be new moments, and I will remember these new moments, and all the moments after.