“To know a person truly, look beyond the gardens of their heart and find the skeletons buried beneath.”
When I first saw this quote, I resonated with its message deeply. Partly because it’s beautiful. Mostly however, because as I read this quote, I was struggling with my own questions of identity and self-worth.
But that’s not what I want to talk about today. As my hands type away on my worn keyboard, they’re urging to talk about feeling.
From the moment we gained consciousness, we all acquired our own skeletons. For me, I still remember the embarrassment I felt when I cried in front of my classmates in my desperation to not get a buzz cut. I still remember the first girl I treated poorly. I still remember trying to run away from my house because I felt lonely. All of these memories are only a few of the many that live in my graveyard.
For the longest time, I tried to run away from all of these skeletons. I would run away from my house one day, and the next day be laughing at the dinner table with my family. Raised to be a “strong Indian boy”, I learned to push these skeletons—these emotions—far away without ever processing or understanding them. I was taught that pushing my emotions away meant being strong. That being a stoic meant becoming a man.
Sitting here today and reflecting on my life, I can confidently say that having that perception of strength has been my biggest struggle in life. Stoicism. I can’t believe my twelve year-old self thought he could understand it.
At it’s core, Stoicism is about controlling your reaction to things you cannot control. If your drink spills, a Stoic is expected to just say, “Oh well”. If it rains today and you don’t have an umbrella, a Stoic would reframe their perspective to: “The rain feels refreshing.”
But what if your dog dies? If he dies of old age, are you supposed to accept his death? What if it’s your friend? What if it’s your friend and you can’t show emotion because you’re too much of a fucking stoic? Do you accept it then?
It hurts me to say that most of the people I know today are indirectly stoics. Having grown up with the same values as me, I can see them push down their emotions, their pain, and their suffering. But more than these negative emotions, I’ve realized that growing up this way hinders you from feeling any emotion. Happiness doesn’t feel the same without having sadness to compare it to. Neither does peace. Nor does love.
Some of my friends can’t smile in photos. Others haven’t cried in years. They don’t understand the emotions below their heart. And sadly, the gardens on top of our hearts are nothing without the foundation of the skeletons below.
Stoicism was never about eliminating emotion. It was reducing it. So fuck this misconception. Fuck this preconceived notion that the strong are supposed to take things in stride. Fuck accepting the world. FEEL IT.
Feel the chaos that is life. Feel the pain it is to get out of bed sore. Feel the stress that comes from a new chapter of your life starting. Feel the hatred for the sun for being too hot. Feel the anguish coming from the homeless woman sitting on the corner of the street. Because only then can you feel everything else. Only then can you feel the pride that you made it out of bed today. Only then can you feel grateful for friends in your new era of life. Only then can you appreciate the shade. Only then can you appreciate the roof you call home every night.
A famous quote has told the world that the purpose of life is to live, laugh, and love. Yet the world seems to forget that the first thing we do when we live is cry. Feel the world. Feel your skeletons. Feeling the world means to live.