Parts of your body
For a moment, let's imagine that we dissected all of your organs and placed them on a table. Imagine the sound of your heart beating outside of you. If you looked at your heart, you wouldn't say, "That's me." "That is my heart," you think. Feel your breath now. Feel it along with your heartbeat, which is also always beating but of which you are rarely aware. "I am my breath," you do not say. I'm breathing, you declare. Consider your liver. your kidneys as well. Take a moment to consider your blood and bones. Consider your fingers, legs, hair, and head as well as your brain. You can see them clearly. They are only components. In the end, they are (usually) replaceable and removable and they’re all entirely temporary. You don’t think of them and see “I.” You think of them and you see things. If you pulled them apart, they’d just be compilations of cells. You don’t see them and think: “That’s me!” "Those are mine," you say. Why does it matter if we assemble them and attach them? Your chest, throat, and possibly a little amount of your head is all concentrated with energy and feel heavy with presence. It has a centre. Your legs are completely numb to you. In your arms, you don't feel anything. It is fundamental. The organs we don't identify with and the energies we do dwell there. What would remain if we eliminated the latter? What if anything? What remains when you are absent? Have you ever occupied the chair? Ever sat there contemplating that? Have you ever touched your entire body and understood that each component is not "I"? Have you ever experienced a kind of a livened presentness when you are attached? Have you ever distinguished between what you refer to as yours and who you are as a person? Knowing who you are helps you feel grounded and provides direction. However, we develop attachments when we give words and definitions to things we already know we enjoy, value, and desire. Then, we make an effort to keep events inside the bounds that we have already accepted. We produce failure from that. We inflict suffering on ourselves. We start to think that a static concept may stand in for a living, growing creature. Our biggest complaints are the ways we don't live up to the expectations we have for ourselves Because we don't like the contents, I believe that occasionally we become connected to the buildings. The idea of what the title signifies rather than the actual day-to-day work of the job, the question "Do you promise to love me forever?" rather than the actual day-to-day loving, are all more important to us than who we are. This means that rather than accepting things as they are, we choose to console ourselves with fantasies of what they might be. We like to think of ourselves as bodies because it prevents us from having to ask, "What else?" indefinitely. What if, though, the "what else" isn't the conclusion but rather the starting point? What if becoming conscious of it liberates us from so much, calms so many thoughts, and eases so many pains? What if treating yourself meant changing your presence, awareness, or energy rather than your attitude, perspective, or aesthetic? In this scenario, healing the whole does not involve healing the parts. Being conscious of the aspects of yourself that are not "I" is the only thing that can transform you and your life. It is the total; it is where you go; it is where you started; it is the one and only thing that changes; it is what prompts the awareness that led you to wonder about the components of its vessel. I'm not actually requesting that you think about the theories. Simply said, I want to know if you can sense it.
Socially Intelligent People
While you may not understand what constitutes social intelligence, you have almost certainly encountered social tone deafness that leaves you annoyed at best and physically uncomfortable at worst. Culture and social intelligence go hand in hand. However, it appears that conventional "politeness" is starting to lose its allure because it can evoke notions of erasing your identity in favor of more standardized behavior. We want to be able to interact with others in a way that is comfortable for both of us, but genuine emotion shouldn't have to be sacrificed in favor of a courteous nod or grin. The two do not preclude one another. Socially knowledgeable people think and act in ways that go beyond what is currently considered to be acceptable culture. This, of course, is the basis of connection, the thing on which our brains are wired to desire, and on which we personally thrive. Here, the core traits of someone who is socially intelligent:
01. They avoid attempting to evoke an intense emotional reaction from whomever they are conversing with. They don't talk in a way that exaggerates their struggles or magnifies their triumphs in order to elicit admiration or pity. This typically happens when the subject at hand does not genuinely call for such a strong response, which causes discomfort for others since they feel under pressure to feign an emotional response.
02. They avoid making general statements about people, politics, or beliefs. Saying "This concept is erroneous" is the quickest way to come across as illiterate. (Though it may be incorrect for you, that notion still persists since it is accurate for someone else.) Intelligent people say, “I don’t personally understand this idea or agree with it.” To speak definitively about any one person or idea is to be blind to the multitude of perspectives that exist on it. It is the definition of closed-minded and short[1]sightedness.
03. They don't quickly reject criticism or respond to it so emotionally that they become immutable or unapproachable. Some of the hardest people to be in relationships with are those who feel so scared by even the tiniest criticism of their actions as being harmful that they really wind up becoming enraged at the person making the criticism, reinforcing the issue as a whole. People with social intelligence evaluate their response before reacting emotionally; otherwise, the reaction is just defensiveness.
04. They don't mistakenly believe that their view of someone is factual information about them. He's a prick is not something that socially astute individuals state as fact. "I had a poor experience with him," they remark instead.
05. They never generalize about other people based on their actions. They never use the phrases "you always" or "you never" to make a point. Additionally, they base their arguments on sentences that start with "I feel" rather than "you are." They do this because using language that people don't perceive as intimidating is the best method to persuade them to listen to you out and truly start the conversation that will result in the change you want.
06. They use precise language. Without evading the subject, they speak what they mean to say. They communicate clearly, concisely, and calmly. Instead, then just waiting for people to respond, they concentrate on communicating something.
07. They listen without offering a response. When listening to others speak, they concentrate on what is being said rather than how they will respond. The meta-practice of "holding space" is another name for this.
We all start as Strangers
It's fascinating to consider how we reduce people who were once everything to nothing. How do we develop the ability to forget? How do we make people forget? What we've put in their place in the meanwhile. The flow of events After that, always tell you more than what the partnership accomplished—grief is a powerful motivator. But what does it mean when you cycle out to becoming a faster instructor than joy? Strangers once more? In that sense, you never truly cease knowing each other. Perhaps you have no choice but to imagine them as someone else. not the person who was familiar with your daily worries and appearance naked, and the things that made you cry, as well as how much you loved them Even if all that's left is a semblance of their memories, when our lives revolve around someone, they don't suddenly cease doing so. There are always a few stray pieces. The places you've been, the words you've spoken, and the songs you've listened to have left an impression on you. We all ultimately find ourselves in the checkout line, listening to one of those tunes, and realize that our lives have revolved around them once more. And it's possible that we never came to a halt. Do you ever forget your lovers' birthdays, or all of your first dates, intimate and otherwise? Do your anniversaries ever return to being regular days of the year? Is it possible that the things you did and the promises you made were ever truly neutralized? Do they become void now that you’re broken up or do you decidedly ignore them because there’s simply no other choice? The mind tells you to go on and forces your heart to follow suit, I guess. I want to believe that you either love someone, in some way, forever, or you never really loved them at all. That once two reactive chemicals cross, both are changed. That the wounds we leave in people are sometimes too raw to risk falling back into them. I don’t want to believe that we write each other off because we simply don’t matter anymore. I know love isn’t expendable. I wonder, and maybe hope, if we ever just force it to be out of necessity. Maybe it’s just that we’re all at the centers of our own little universes, and sometimes they overlap with other people, and that small bit of intersection leaves some part of it changed. The collision can wreck us, change us, shift us. Sometimes we merge into one, and other times we rescind because the comfort of losing what we thought we knew wins out. Either way, it’s inevitable that you expand. That you’re left knowing that much more about love and what it can do, and the pain that only a hole in your heart and space in your bed and emptiness in the next chair over can bring. Whether or not that hole will ever again include the person who made it that way…I don’t know. Whether or not anybody else can match the outline of someone who was so deeply impressed in you…I don’t know that, either. We all start as strangers. The choices we make in terms of love are usually ones that seem inevitable anyway. We find people irrationally compelling. We discover spirits composed of the same material as ours. We meet classmates, partners, neighbors, family friends, cousins, and sisters, and our lives become intertwined in ways that make it seem as if they could never have been distinct. This is also nice. But it isn't the convenience and accessibility that we seek. It's not what I'm writing about at the moment. After it's gone, it's not what we focus on. We're all waiting for another universe to collide with ours and change things that we can't change on our own. It's fascinating how we realise the storm has passed us by, but we now see the stars in a different light, and we don't know, and we can't choose, whose wreckage can do that for us. We all start as strangers, but we forget that we rarely choose who ends up a stranger, too.
The reality of ROUTINE
Aside from talent, the most successful persons in history had one thing in common: they were "geniuses" in their domains, masters of their trades. The majority followed strict (and detailed) protocols. Routines appear monotonous and the polar opposite of what you're told makes up a "happy existence." Happiness, we deduce, stems from a never-ending quest for "more," whatever that "more" may be. What we don't comprehend is that having a routine does not imply that you spend the same number of hours in the same workplace every day. Every month, your regimen may include a trip to a different country. It could be that you're doing something out of the ordinary on a regular basis. The key isn't so much what the routine entails as it is how steady and secure your subconscious mind becomes as a result of repetitive motions and predictable outcomes. It doesn't matter what you want your daily life to be like; the important thing is that you make a decision and then stick to it. In summary, routine is vital because habitualness creates mood, and mood develops the "nurture" side of your personality, not to mention that allowing impulsiveness to jerk you around creates a breeding environment for everything you essentially don't want. The majority of things that bring genuine enjoyment aren't merely brief gratifications; they also come with resistance and demand effort. Yet there is a way to nullify the feeling of “sacrifice” when you integrate a task into the “norm” or push through resistance with regulation. These, and all the other reasons why routine is so important (and happy people tend to follow them more).
1) Your behavior shape your mood, which is a filter through which you experience life. It would seem reasonable to suppose that emotions are influenced by thoughts or stressors, events that occur during the day and throw us off. This isn't the case. Psychologist Robert Thayer claims that our habits shape our moods: how much sleep we get, how often we exercise, what we think, how often we think it, and so on. The point is that it's not a single thought that makes us crazy; it's the pattern of having that thought over and over again that compounds its effect and makes it appear true.
2) You must learn to let your conscious decisions, not your fears or impulses, guide your day. A mind that hasn't been tamed is a minefield. Anything can mislead you into thinking you want something you don't actually want if you lack regulation, focus, basis, or self-control. "I'd rather go out for drinks tonight than prepare for that presentation tomorrow," may seem reasonable in the short term, but it is devastating in the long run. It's probably not worth it to miss a crucial meeting just to go out for drinks one night. Learning to create routine is the same as learning to let your conscious choices about what you'll do with your day guide you, while letting all the other, transient stuff go.
3) Happiness is measured by how well you perform rather than how many things you do. More isn't always better. Happiness isn't about trying new things; it's about continuing to enjoy what you already have in new and diverse ways. We're practically skewered with the worry that we're unhappy because we're not doing "enough," because we're taught that passion should drive our every thought, move, and choice.
4) Because you are no longer confronted with the unknown, your "fight or flight" impulses are deactivated when you govern your daily actions. This is why individuals have such a hard time with change, and why people who stick to their routines have such a good time: their fear instincts are turned off long enough for them to appreciate something.
5) Routine offers us a sense of security as children. It provides us a sense of purpose as grownups. Surprisingly, the two emotions are more similar than you might believe (at least, their origin is the same). It’s the same thing as the fear of the unknown: As children, we don’t know which way is left, let alone why we’re alive or whether or not a particular activity we’ve never done before is going to be scary or harmful. When we’re adults engaging with routine-ness, we can comfort ourselves with the simple idea of “I know how to do this, I’ve done it before.”
6) Because routine continually repeats a decision you've previously made, you're content. If you decide to write a book and commit to writing three pages every night for ,however, long it takes to finish it, you are affirming not only your willingness to begin, but also your ability to finish it. It's the healthiest way to feel validated, in my opinion.
7) Routine becomes the path to "flow" as your body self-regulates. "Flow" (in case you didn't know—you probably did) is simply what happens when we become so thoroughly immersed in what we're doing that all thoughts and worries fade away and we're just completely focused on the task at hand. The more you educate your body to react to various cues, the better:7 a.m. is when you wake up, 2 p.m. is when you start writing, and so on, you naturally fall into flow with a lot more ease, just out of habit.
8) When we don't stick to a routine, we educate ourselves that "fear" means we're doing anything wrong, rather than simply being emotionally invested in the outcome. A lack of routine is the perfect environment for procrastination to thrive. It creates gaps and intervals in which our subconscious thoughts can say things like, "Well, you can take a break now," when we actually have a deadline to meet. However, if you're accustomed to taking a break at that time, you'll simply let it because "you usually do"
@Alihamza