The extrovert delusion

quiet

I love this quote by Mary Walsh. It was in review of Susan Cain’s book titled: Quiet, the power of introverts in a world that can’t stop talking.

To say I am excited to read this book is an understatement. Without spoiling it too much, the praises are never ending and it’s description is something that appeals to me.
I’m utterly dissatisfied with the status quo of my and my fellow younger generations. Their utter disregard for the quiet achiever’s resolve, focus and ability is an imbecilic crime against ourselves and one another.

The worship of the extrovert has done nothing more than create a culture so superficially void and defunct that we will be feeling the pain of our momentary lapse in the time-space of eternity for a very long time.

We will be remembered for our ignorance and our ability to purposefully dumb each other down. Self inflicted stupidity, lack of intelligence seen as cool and the praise of self-admittance to lack of literary and educational prowess are so prevalent that if you differ, you’re an outcast waiting for the barrage of psychiatrists to invent a disease for your condition.

I am somewhat saddened but feel this overwhelming urge to forge an army of intelligent people, introverts of the highest order, the ones who care not for the glamour and fame but the ones who would sit for hours on end watching an organism grow so that they can record and understand it more in the wider scope of other organism, in hope to find a cure to help if but one person, just because he or she WANTS to. The ones who will strum their guitar until their fingers bleed so they can play a riff of perfection to make your hairs stand on end, one riff, that is all. The ones who will not stop reading until they have encompassed enough inside themselves to be able to pass if only one tenth of what they know on to another generation. The ones who will not separate a relentless drive and ambition for business success from morals and ethics and fight their ego despite the pressure of outside forces in their dealings. The ones who will throw away canvas upon canvas, waste oil and wear brushes, be buried in their rooms for days or weeks to produce a visual treat.

Introverts are belittled by default, but try as you may, when the shit hit’s the fan, the extroverts don’t know what to do, it’s to the ones who spent enough time resolving themselves that we all turn to, to their knowledge, wisdom, abilities or at least their candour and calm in the wake of the storms around us.

Next time you feel like making fun of or joining in on a back-biting and gossip session about the new kid at school or the employee who drinks water instead of beer at your social gatherings or the person in the street who just doesn’t quite fit in, know that they might have a few years or leagues above you, gained only by their introversion.

Do yourself a favour and add this book to your collection.

-ME

There is no time

Tug-of-war-compress1

Give me an inch and I’ll take a mile.

That’s the least I can do as life keeps taking things from me.

It’s not a joke.

Your senses must be really dull,

if you’re not overwhelmed by the pressure of losing out.

I don’t like sleep for that very reason.

There is so much for me to do,

things I will miss out on.

The book I need to read,

the writers mind I need to get into,

to understand one more human being,

their ability to convey a message,

to artistically communicate,

to mash a jumble of letters together,

and have it move someone.

If I give that inch away,

I will get suckered in the nose.

Prize fighting is serious business,

hurt business.

No one likes losing in business.

If I give that inch,

my son will take a mile and run with it.

He’ll be off in the wrong direction,

if I don’t steer that inch.

If I give that inch,

I’ll miss the mile wide sunrise.

Poverty stricken people,

who give inches.

They aren’t rich in life’s experiences.

They give inches,

and life takes miles from them

If I give that inch,

instead of taking it,

you won’t see the mile from me.

Perhaps one person will miss out,

someone,

but one.

-ME

The struggle to believe.

uighurs

You claim to be a non-believer,

You deceiver.

I can prove you are a believer of sorts,

Of your thoughts,

Of your retorts,

Sharp as a whip on the flesh of the slave,

You can’t quieten your ego and behave,

You choose the false pretence of freedom,

But don’t know freedom…… is in being a slave,

Not to that ego of yours,

Worshipping yourself,

Without any help,

Proud and arrogant,

Ignorant and blind,

Unkind,

To yourself and mankind,

As you conjecture yet another mental axe to grind,

Pretending to be a searcher,

But you cannot find,

Your mind,

Forever entangled,

Entwined.

My friend that is not the way,

That is not the wine.

Love is the way,

God is love.

Release your ego,

Like you release a dove,

Let your soul soar instead,

To the heavens above

Stop claiming you’re a non-believer when we can see your struggle in wanting to be one.

-ME