Fly on through the turbulence — there is no better alternative

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'Please secure your own oxygen mask first before helping others to secure theirs.'

That epigraph is, as some of you will be aware, advice given to passengers by aeroplane cabin crew in the event of an emergency that requires oxygen masks to be worn on board.

'When you're going through hell, keep going.'

Harmful help

Those with a more narcissistic personality may wonder why such a message is needed at all. 'Eh, I always look after number one first.'

However, parents travelling with young children or those who are with more vulnerable companions might be tempted to assist these others before attending to themselves. So I've heard it said, anyway. I almost always fly solo (my life motto, in many ways!).

Now, for parents, taking care of one's young children is — or at least should be — a priority, one that often means mother and/or father have to frequently forgo some personal wants.

Yet, there are times, like in the oxygen-mask scenario, when putting one's offspring first could do more harm than good to both child and parent.

A parent, naturally enough, is too emotionally involved and the innate desire to protect a child often overrides what objectively would be considered a more prudent, beneficial-for-all-concerned approach.

We're all at risk of such behaviour when it comes to those we hold dear or to whom we feel indebted.

Care necessities

My return to Ireland and subsequent extended stay have had elements of this at play.

With my parents entering their twilight years and with an amount of flexibility on my side in terms of being available to help out where possible and required, I figured I could be at least of some benefit by being physically closer to my family while I try to navigate through my own fog of uncertainty.

I am, also, a country boy at heart so mucking around with livestock on the family farm is something that I don't mind doing. What irks me is the farm's overall unkemptness. A sure-fire way of infuriating me is to ask me to clean up somebody else's mess.

'It's rather difficult for me to secure my own mask first for the fact that I don't even know where my mask is.'

At 80 years of age, the chances of my father suddenly turning to tidiness are between slim and none. Others will be left to confront this, what I view as chaos, when our father departs the land of the living.

That aside, I can say with some certainty that my occasional assistance has been appreciated by my father.

I'm far less certain that my being around my mother has been a net benefit. This is chiefly due to the demon dementia that is gradually taking hold of her.

I've found it difficult not to get annoyed when she buys yet more food that will only end up going to waste (I hate to see food being binned) or when she asks the same questions over and over and over again.

Thus, my annoyance has at times ended up annoying her. It has made me think that it might be mutually beneficial if I just left her to her own devices.

Of course, the most likely scenario is that her condition will deteriorate to the point where she'll put both herself and others at risk if left to fend for herself.

Should she live for another number of years — physically she's in decent enough shape — full-time care in a secure environment is what she will need.

Yes, a family member could take up this round-the-clock, predominantly thankless task, allowing her to stay in the family home. It would be, however, a significant undertaking for one person, something I touched on in a piece last year titled, The care necessities: Dealing with old age.

Such care from a family member is made even more difficult when the patient is merely the body of the person you once knew so well. Their mind and thus their actions become alien. The parasitic dementia is in control.

Don't mask me!

For me right now, all this is framed within my what-and-where-next predicament, in terms of both what to do income-wise and where to live.

In this mindset, it's rather difficult for me to secure my own mask first for the fact that I don't even know where my mask is. All I can say is that I'm fairly sure I won't find it in the west of Ireland at this moment in time. Fairly sure that is, not fully sure.

So while physical, real untidiness that I have to deal with angers me, my chaos, my mess is more of a mental kind.

Materially-wise, I mostly fall into the minimalist category so it's relatively easy to keep order compared to those who have lots of belongings. Yet, mentally, things are not that clear.

For sure, few if any of us go through life without the occasional emergency, those turbulent times when we hope that the metaphorical oxygen masks emerge to support us. It's just — on my career flight in particular — travelling through turbulence has become my norm over the last few years.

Nonetheless, I still feel largely in control of my craft. And, currently, it seems that I'm happier in flight rather than grounded indefinitely on terra firma.

Sticking to my life flight should put me in a better position to fight both for myself and others. And it's best not to wait for the oxygen masks to be deployed. By then, the situation will most likely be beyond repair.
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Without the pain, the pleasures are plain (and enslaving)

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

No pain, no gain. The meaning of that proverb needs little explanation, expressed in various guises as it has been throughout the ages.

I can't think of any success of note I've had — yes, I've had one or two — that didn't come without some pain in one form or another, save for the odd win in gambling.

Seeking out some pain makes many feel more alive. 

I must also state that the pain part in some of my bad romances came after I had savoured the initial success. Thus, I question the belief that 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' I would have happily forgone the pleasure to avoid the resultant pain. A more apt expression in such scenarios is, 'Easy come, easy go.'

Of course, another way to look at my relationship woes is that I wasn't willing to put up with some constant pain for, perhaps, an overall gain in happiness. It depends on how one views such, um, affairs; this blog has analysed them from an array of angles over the years. One place to start is with Everlasting love and work your way back through the hyperlinks.

Pleb pain

On a broader scale, as any self-help guru keeping it real will tell you, life is suffering. Or, putting it in less depressing words, life is but a sea of melancholy, warmed up only sporadically by the odd drop of delight.

However, the modern conveniences and state-hung financial safety nets to which some people in certain parts of the world can rely on mean that the suffering in merely existing has been diluted to an extent.

Great that, isn't it? Who wouldn't want less suffering in the world?

The issue here is that as a species, like any other, suffering and pain are meant to be part of living. It's a default setting.

'Outside of activism of abnegation, others find their wholesome pain in feats of physical and mental endurance.'

What some self-styled social democracies are trying to move towards is a citizenry devoid of everyday concerns. No real short-term financial issues, no hunger of note, everything made simple and safe.

'Placate the plebs to the point where they won't notice nor care that they've no real control over their affairs', that's the direction of travel. Impotent but content.

Think of us plebs as being well-fed domesticated dogs as opposed to the wiry wild ones roaming the African plains.

Yet, all the dog treats in the world won't sate that desire to live on the wild side. It's innate.

In rudimentary health

It's why, although we may be more controlled than ever, some in our comfortable classes who haven't yet become utterly disillusioned or been subdued completely seek out what I term wholesome pain to feel alive again.

Insofar as I can put myself into the comfortable-class cohort, my constant, somewhat self-inflicted pain is my attempt to maintain a minimalist lifestyle. I say somewhat self-inflicted because as things currently stand, and particularly in terms of high-income-nation living, without a steady income I have to be more minimalist than profligate anyway.

What's more, I can't say it's that painful for me. I don't mind shunning what I view as conveniences that others may think of as essentials to get by.

In fact, if we all had to take a more rudimentary approach to life — e.g. walk or cycle to get around, prepare our own meals from scratch, no home heating at the touch of a button, that kind of stuff — then few would have the time, means or even desire for a lot of the wilder, extreme pursuits we see today. Anyone up for the next Marathon des Sables?

These days, though, we don't have to worry about the fundamentals of survival to the same extent as those who came before us.

Yes, I sound a bit like Steven Pinker here but in terms of health and wealth — happiness is much more debatable — the average adult human in this century is in a better position than his counterpart who lived just three or four generations ago.

Cold comforts

Hence the search for some pain to make us feel more deserving of the many low-hanging pleasures; pain to stoke the flames of a fire of life that normally just quietly smoulders away.

The more radical climate-crisis activists appear to want a universal return to the aforementioned rudimentary way of living. Pain to all mankind (I'm not sure about the non-binaries). The difference between most of them and me is that I try to do what I say, they preach, cause disruption and in the process anger others whilst doing little good.

Outside of this activism of abnegation, others find their wholesome pain in feats of physical and mental endurance, as alluded to earlier. A particularly popular one these days appears to be cold-water dipping (studies suggest it does have health benefits, up to a point in any case.)

So while our freedom is steadily disappearing in this surveillance society, we can still, within reason, pick our own pain for some sort of personal gain. Indeed, these days, freedom is pain. Freedom is suffering.
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