Choice “Paralysis“
A choice implies that there is an alternative, and with every alternative comes the weight of consequences, perceived or real.
You speak of a ‘neutral’ stand, but let’s investigate what that really means. In reality, the idea of a neutral stance is a contradiction in terms. The very act of choosing neutrality is in itself a choice, made in opposition to other possible choices. So, the notion of being ‘neutral’ is inherently paradoxical because it cannot exist without the conditions that make it a choice to begin with.
For example, When you agree to a certain dosage of medication, you exercise control by making an informed decision. However, you also surrender control to the effects of that dosage, which may not be entirely predictable. This brings emotional complexity into play: the comfort of taking action (choosing the dosage) juxtaposed against the uncertainty of outcome. When we agree to disagree, we are on the contrary acknowledging that a middle ground is unreachable, yet we’re finding a sort of middle ground in that very acknowledgment. The challenge lies in our psychological need for validation and agreement, which often feels at odds with the more rational understanding that it’s perfectly okay for different viewpoints to coexist. We often fail to agree to disagree because our conditionings, our egos, don’t allow us to let go without a ‘win’ or a ‘loss.’
Every choice, by definition, is a rejection of its alternative. Therefore, choices are always relative, biased, and limited by the options that exist. In that sense, a choice cannot be independent because it is defined by the conditions that make it a choice. The idea of a ‘choice’ presupposes the existence of an alternative, of a comparison. In a context where there is only one thing that exists independently, the notion of ‘choice’ would be meaningless because there would be nothing to choose from. Therefore, it wouldn’t be a choice; it would simply be a state of being. The paradox exists because we try to define and understand choice within the limited framework of language and duality. However, once you recognize that the very nature of choice is paradoxical and conditional, and you embrace that paradox rather than trying to resolve it, you arrive at a sort of meta-clarity. This does not mean you’ve resolved the paradox; it simply means you’ve stepped outside of it. You’ve transcended the limitations that come with the dualistic thinking of ‘this or that,’ ‘yes or no,’ ‘neutral or biased.’
Choices are never made in emotional vacuums. They are laden with expectations, fears, and desires that stem from our past experiences, conditionings, and inherent personality traits. Even the seemingly most “logical” choice is often deeply influenced by emotions we may not even be fully aware of. The emotional charge of expectations is often the heaviest. When we make a choice, it is often governed by what we expect the outcome will bring us—pleasure, validation, success, or the avoidance of pain and conflict. The emotion here is one of anticipation, coupled with anxiety about whether our expectations will be met.
Then there’s desire, an emotion that often masquerades as need. The choices we make based on desire are emotionally charged with hopes for fulfillment, achievement, or recognition. But desire is a double-edged sword: while it motivates us, it also sets us up for disappointment if things don’t go as planned.
Even when we think we are making a “neutral” choice, what we are often trying to do is distance ourselves emotionally from the implications of the decision. We might say it’s “purely logical,” but the underlying emotion is often one of self-preservation—we wish to remain unscathed by the emotional weight that comes with making a more obviously partial choice.
One reason choices are emotionally charged is that they give us the illusion of control. Making a decision allows us to feel like we have some say over our fate. However, this control is always somewhat illusory. Life’s unpredictability ensures that our choices, no matter how well-considered, often have unexpected outcomes. The realization that our control is limited can bring up a host of emotions like helplessness or existential dread. Every choice we make, big or small, adds a brick to the edifice of our self-identity. We look for validation through our choices; when they lead to desired outcomes, it reinforces our sense of self-worth. When they don’t, it challenges our self-image and can lead to emotions like self-doubt, shame, or regret.
Our choices also affect how we are viewed by others, adding another layer of emotional complexity. Sometimes we make choices that conform to societal norms or expectations to avoid judgment or gain approval. The emotions at play here are often related to a fear of rejection or a need for social cohesion. At other times, we may make choices that go against the grain, driven by a desire for individuality or authenticity. This can lead to a complicated cocktail of pride, liberation, but also potential loneliness.
When it comes to seemingly paradoxical choices—like choosing wisdom over a loved one or maintaining a “neutral” stance—the emotional texture becomes even more intricate. For instance, choosing wisdom over a loved one might be a defense mechanism to protect oneself from future emotional pain, yet it can also lead to immediate emotional pain due to the distancing from the loved one. Here, both foresight and dread, love and rationality, are locked in an emotional tussle.
In cases where we choose to be “neutral,” what we are really doing is choosing not to engage emotionally in a way that makes us vulnerable. We might convince ourselves that we’re staying above the fray, but deep down, the need to protect ourselves emotionally is dictating that ‘neutral’ choice. The emotion behind neutrality is often a fear of emotional engagement, wrapped up in a protective layer of rationality. Ultimately, emotional maturity plays a large role in how we navigate the sea of choices and their associated feelings. Being aware of our emotional drivers allows us to make more ‘informed’ choices, even if that information is coming from within ourselves. This kind of self-awareness can temper the more reactive emotions like fear and desire and allow room for more nuanced feelings like contentment, acceptance, and genuine love to inform our decisions.
Choice is often seen as liberating, an act of free will that puts us in the driver’s seat of our destiny. However, with every choice we make, we also close off other possibilities, limiting ourselves in certain ways. The emotional paradox here is the simultaneous existence of freedom and constraint within the same action. We may feel exuberant for choosing a particular path, but there can be a latent sadness or anxiety about the paths left unexplored.
While choices often feel monumental in the moment, their impact can wane over time, sometimes even reversing in significance. What seemed like a terrible choice in the past may later appear wise, or vice versa. This fluidity can generate complex emotions, such as regret for past choices or anxiety about the unpredictability of future choices and their unforeseeable emotional implications.
Ultimately, where every action presents us with a choice and counter choices, we sometimes find ourselves paralyzed, suspended in a moment of indecision. Yet, this paralysis isn’t a dead end; it’s a pause, a sacred space that invites us to reflect, to feel, and to become keenly aware of our humanity.
What if we reframe this so-called “choice paralysis” not as a dilemma but as a moment of pause in the great narrative of our lives? It becomes not a prison, but a platform; not a quagmire, but a quest. In this paused state, we are philosophers, artists, and explorers of the inner cosmos. We grapple not just with options but with identities, not merely with pros and cons but with hopes and fears, love and loss.
In this pause, we are not frozen; we are fervently alive. We are composing in our minds the symphony of our future, writing the next act of our life’s drama, sculpting the clay of our becoming.
And when the pause lifts—as it always does—we make a choice, yes, but we also do something more profound: we embrace our capacity to choose, even when the choices are hard, even when the path is foggy. For it’s in the wrestling with choices that we come to know who we truly are.
So, the next time you find yourself in the clutches of choice paralysis, remember: you are standing at the confluence of many rivers, each leading to a different ocean but all part of the same Earth. And it’s okay to stand there for a while, to feel the currents, to listen to their distinct murmurs, before stepping into the stream that will carry you to your next adventure.
And so, we are forever navigating, forever choosing. Not in search of resolution, but in pursuit of growth. In the end, it’s not about making the perfect choice, but about making our choices perfect us.
The Clarity in Uncertainty – Dance between Fog and Focus
The tension between clarity and unclarity seems to be rooted in the human condition itself. Our minds are built to seek patterns, to make sense of the world, and to resolve ambiguity. When things are unclear, we often experience discomfort because it conflicts with our innate desire for resolution and understanding. Unclarity poses a challenge, and humans are generally wired to confront and solve challenges; it’s a basic survival instinct.
However, once we achieve clarity, the “puzzle” is solved, the “problem” is resolved, and the thing that engaged our curiosity and problem-solving abilities no longer does so in the same way. The mind then moves on to the next challenge. It’s a kind of restlessness that keeps us evolving, learning, and growing, but it can also be a source of dissatisfaction or even suffering.
The reason why unclarity is challenging could be because it disrupts our sense of control. Clarity gives us the illusion of control, of being able to predict and manipulate our environment effectively. However, life is full of complexities and dualities that resist simple explanations or solutions. That’s why even when we feel we’ve achieved some clarity, it often seems limited or provisional.
This issue also brushes up against existential and spiritual concerns that have fascinated philosophers and religious thinkers for centuries. The idea that life is fundamentally uncertain and that we must find a way to live with this uncertainty is a central theme in many worldviews. It raises questions about how to live a meaningful life within the constraints of our limited understanding and control. Our relationship with unclarity can also change over time and with experience. As we age, we might find that we become more comfortable with shades of gray, more accepting of the limitations of our knowledge and control. Some people find great peace in embracing the mysteries of life, in recognizing the limitations of human cognition and the vastness of what we don’t know.
But this is often a hard-won wisdom, coming after years, or even decades, of grappling with the discomfort and challenges that unclarity brings. Some of the greatest minds in history have discussed the virtue of embracing uncertainty. Scientists, for example, thrive on it; it’s the engine that drives scientific inquiry. For artists, ambiguity can be a rich source of inspiration, a space where new ideas and forms can emerge. In spiritual practices, the embracing of mystery is often considered a path to deeper understanding and enlightenment.
This doesn’t make the process of dealing with unclarity any less challenging, but it may offer a different perspective on why this is such a universal human experience. It might not be something to be solved or eradicated but a fundamental aspect of the human condition to be explored, understood, and even embraced.
In other words, both clarity and unclarity have their roles in our lives, offering different kinds of lessons and opportunities for growth. Clarity can offer us direction and a sense of purpose, but it can also make us complacent or narrow in our thinking. Unclarity, on the other hand, while often uncomfortable, pushes us to question, explore, and stretch our boundaries.
Think of it as a sort of dance. Sometimes, life leads with clarity, providing us with straightforward answers, well-defined goals, and unambiguous directions. At other times, it leads with unclarity, challenging us with questions, uncertainties, and complex dilemmas that don’t have easy answers. Both stances have their own unique beauty and can enrich our lives in different ways.
The key might be learning how to navigate between these two states, knowing when to seek clarity and when to embrace uncertainty, how to balance our need for concrete answers with a willingness to dwell in ambiguity. And most importantly, how to find a sense of peace and even joy in that ongoing dance between the known and the unknown. So while the discomfort and challenge of unclarity can be difficult to live with, they also serve as catalysts for growth, pushing us to evolve and adapt in ways we might not have otherwise. After all, if life were entirely predictable and clear-cut, would it hold the same richness and potential for growth? Perhaps not.
Human nature is inclined toward a preference for clarity because it gives us a sense of control. When things are clear, we know what to expect, how to behave, what choices to make, and that gives us comfort. Clarity aligns with our need for stability and security.
On the other hand, unclarity often provokes discomfort because it takes away our sense of control. When situations are unclear or when we’re facing ambiguity, it triggers our brain’s threat detection systems, making us feel unsettled or anxious.
However, there’s an ironic twist to this natural inclination for clarity: the thrill of the unknown. Humans are also explorers, innovators, and problem solvers. These traits are activated by unclarity. We are drawn to mysteries, puzzles, and challenges because they promise the reward of discovery and growth. So, while our first reaction to unclarity may be discomfort, that same discomfort can motivate us to explore, to understand, and to grow.
But why do we pay more attention to what is unclear even after achieving clarity? Because clarity often brings resolution, and with resolution comes the end of that particular cycle of exploration or growth. On the other hand, unclarity sustains a continual process of seeking and questioning. Even when we solve one puzzle, another often takes its place. This continuous seeking can be stressful, but it’s also how we grow and evolve as individuals.
This is the paradox: Clarity and unclarity are two sides of the same coin, each with its own set of challenges and rewards. Clarity provides comfort but can lead to complacency. Unclarity creates discomfort but also fuels growth. Both are necessary for a fulfilling, well-rounded life.
The challenge, then, isn’t to eliminate unclarity but to engage with it in a way that is constructive rather than paralyzing. This often involves a level of acceptance that some questions might not have straightforward answers, and some situations will involve navigating through grey areas. Yet, it is precisely these challenges that enable us to grow mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. So, living with unclarity is not about finding a final state of total clarity, but about developing the resilience and wisdom to navigate life’s inherent uncertainties in a meaningful way.
In the realm of philosophy, this dual need for both clarity and unclarity echoes the dialectic process—where contradictory ideas coexist, inform each other, and even enable progress. To engage constructively with unclarity, one can apply a similar approach—acknowledging both the comforting aspects of clarity and the growth-oriented elements of unclarity without seeking to completely eliminate either one.
The act of accepting unclarity as a natural part of life can also be seen as an exercise in humility. No matter how much we know, there will always be elements that are out of our control, questions that don’t have immediate answers, and complexities that don’t yield to simple explanations. Acknowledging these uncertainties can open us to deeper understanding, greater empathy, and even wisdom. It frees us from the paralyzing quest for perfect certainty and allows us to make meaningful decisions despite incomplete information.
In practice, this might mean being okay with not having all the answers before taking action, or recognizing that it’s alright to change our minds when faced with new information. It could involve embracing ‘not knowing’ as a state that propels inquiry rather than stifles it. It also encourages a dynamic state of learning, where the lines between teacher and student blur, and every experience becomes an opportunity to grow.
In many philosophical frameworks, absolute clarity or certainty is considered an illusion or an ideal that can never be fully attained. We might strive for clarity but should recognize that it will often be provisional and subject to change.
Perhaps we can think of clarity not as an endpoint, but as a spectrum. At one end is complete confusion or lack of understanding, and at the other is perfect clarity. Most of the time, we find ourselves somewhere in between. Clarity, in this sense, becomes not a destination but a process—a movement along that spectrum towards greater understanding.
When we say we “have clarity,” it might simply mean we’ve moved far enough along this spectrum to make a confident decision or to understand a situation to our own satisfaction. This doesn’t mean we’ve solved the puzzle entirely, just that we have enough pieces in place to see the image taking shape. But clarity is often elusive because life is inherently complex, unpredictable, and full of uncertainties. Our plans and perspectives are always subject to change due to new information, experiences, and insights. Thus, even when we achieve a state of clarity, it’s often temporary and subject to change.
The search for clarity often seems like an endless endeavor precisely because life is complex and ever-changing. When we seek clarity, what we’re often looking for is a framework or paradigm that allows us to make sense of our experiences and observations. But each framework has its limitations; no single lens can capture the full depth and complexity of reality.
The existentialist philosophers, for example, posited that life is inherently ambiguous. There is rarely a single, clear-cut answer to complex questions. The more we learn, the more we recognize the limits of our knowledge. This is what Socrates meant when he said, “I know that I know nothing.” His wisdom lay in recognizing his own ignorance.
Similarly, Eastern philosophies like Buddhism speak of “beginner’s mind,” the idea of approaching life with openness, eagerness, and a lack of preconceptions, much like a beginner or a child. This is not the same as saying one should be ignorant, but rather that one should be open to multiple perspectives and willing to revise one’s understanding as more information becomes available.
In modern psychology, this ongoing quest for clarity amidst uncertainty can sometimes be framed as “tolerance for ambiguity,” a psychological trait that defines one’s ability to function well in situations that are uncertain, unclear, or chaotic. People with high tolerance for ambiguity are generally more flexible and find it easier to adapt to new situations, while those with low tolerance may find ambiguity to be stressful and may seek to resolve it as quickly as possible, even if it means settling for a simplistic answer.
So why do we seek clarity? From an evolutionary standpoint, being able to quickly assess and understand our environment could have survival benefits. However, the modern world is much more complex than the environments in which our ancestors lived, and the “clarity” we seek may not always be achievable or may require us to accept some level of uncertainty or paradox.
The pursuit of clarity, then, is both a psychological and philosophical endeavor. It involves developing the cognitive and emotional skills needed to navigate uncertainty and the wisdom to recognize that our understanding of any given situation is likely to be partial and contingent on various factors.
If we can get comfortable with the idea that absolute clarity is an ideal rather than a constant state, we can free ourselves to seek understanding in a more nuanced and open-minded way. We learn to appreciate the journey of intellectual and emotional growth, even if it never leads to a single, unambiguous destination.
Whispers of the Quiet Quest!!
Silent seeker’s quest
In the realm of the silent seeker’s stride,
Where bridges burn, and shadows hide,
A journey deep, through time’s vast tide,
To realms within, where truths reside.
The witness stands, on shores of mind,
Observing life, to ties unbind.
Yet comes a time, the seeker finds,
To transcend watch, and life entwined.
For what’s an end, but a new dawn?
A realization, a reborn fawn.
Not a destination, but a stretch yawning wide,
A shift of soul, where truths reside.
Observer, witness, names do vary,
Yet their essence, one mustn’t miscarry.
A silent gaze, detached, unweary,
In the dance of life, a step so necessary.
The ego’s song, a siren’s call,
Binds the soul, in a webbed thrall.
But in awakened states, its grip does fall,
As vastness reigns, over the minuscule and small.
Time, a river, flowing swift and sure,
Past’s lessons, future’s lure.
Yet in the present, lies the cure,
To manifest dreams, pure and pure.
Intention sets the compass’ needle,
Visualization paints the dream’s easel.
Emotion fuels, action’s sequel,
And gratitude wraps, life’s upheaval.
In the dance of duality, the rhythm is profound,
Yet beyond the beats, a silence is found.
For in the heart of existence, where truths are unbound,
Lies the song of the soul, an eternal sound.
Anticipatory anxiety in Human Relationships
Human relationships, particularly the relationships we share with those we deeply care about, are characterized by a multitude of emotions, experiences, and dynamics that can often seem paradoxical. One such paradox is the experience of having a rush of things to share with a loved one, only to find ourselves going blank when we finally meet them. This experience can be perplexing, but it is not uncommon.
Firstly, it’s crucial to acknowledge that communication in the context of love is not just about the exchange of words. Love is a deep, complex emotion, and our communication with those we love often extends beyond the verbal. When we meet our loved ones, our subconscious mind, which is a powerful part of our emotional processing system, comes into play. It relishes the presence of the loved one, focusing on the nonverbal cues like their expressions, their body language, the warmth in their eyes, and their overall energy. These subtle signals can trigger an emotional response, which can be so overwhelming that it temporarily clouds our conscious thoughts, leading us to experience the ‘blank’ state.
Secondly, the anticipation of sharing experiences with a loved one can create a psychological phenomenon known as ‘anticipatory anxiety’. Anticipatory anxiety refers to the anxiety that individuals experience in anticipation of an event. In this case, the event is the sharing of experiences with the loved one. This anxiety is not necessarily negative; it could just be the result of the excitement and eagerness of wanting to share and connect. However, it can sometimes lead to over-preparation, where we mentally rehearse the conversation multiple times, creating an information overload. When the actual moment of sharing comes, the overload coupled with the emotional response to being in the presence of the loved one can cause our mind to go blank.
Moreover, the desire to share our experiences with our loved ones stems from our need for connection and validation. We yearn to be seen, to be understood, and to be acknowledged. However, when we are in the presence of a loved one, especially if the love is deep and genuine, their mere presence can provide the connection and validation we seek. This can reduce the urgency of the need to share, leading to a calming effect where our thoughts settle down, and we find ourselves enjoying the moment rather than focusing on narrating our experiences.
Another angle to consider is the dynamics of vulnerability in love. Sharing our experiences, particularly those that are personal or emotionally charged, involves opening up and making ourselves vulnerable. While we may feel comfortable with this level of vulnerability at a conceptual level, the reality of opening up in person may feel more daunting, causing us to retreat into ourselves.
Furthermore, it’s essential to understand the role of ‘presence’ in love. Being ‘present’ is about being fully engaged in the here and now, immersing ourselves in the current moment without being distracted by past memories or future anticipations. When we are with our loved ones, we are often naturally pulled into the present because of the depth of our feelings for them. This state of presence can calm our mind, helping us let go of our preconceived plans to share, and instead, allowing us to just be and enjoy the moment with them.
In the realm of love, relationships, and emotional intimacy, the phenomenon of ‘going blank’ when in the presence of a loved one is multifaceted and deeply linked to our inner selves and our perception of the world around us. The depth and breadth of human emotion, particularly those we experience when we’re in love, are often too vast to put into words. This cognitive-emotional interplay can add another layer of complexity to the ‘going blank’ phenomenon.
Sometimes, the vastness of what we wish to share and the depth of our feelings can be so overwhelming that it becomes difficult to articulate them into coherent thoughts or words. This may be because language, while an effective means of communication, is sometimes limited in expressing the depth and complexity of our inner world. Some feelings, experiences, or ideas may not have exact words to define them, causing a disconnect between our internal state and our ability to express it verbally. This can result in the feeling of being ‘blank’ when we attempt to communicate our experiences to a loved one.
There’s also an element of what psychologist Carl Rogers referred to as ‘unconditional positive regard’. Unconditional positive regard involves showing complete support and acceptance of a person regardless of what they say or do. When we are in the presence of a loved one who provides us with this unconditional positive regard, it can create a deeply comforting and validating environment. This environment can be so emotionally fulfilling that our need to share or discuss our experiences diminishes, as our emotional needs are already being met through the connection itself. This can contribute to the sensation of going ‘blank’ in their presence.
This concept aligns with the Eastern philosophy of ‘being versus doing’. In the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, we are often caught up in a constant state of ‘doing’ – planning, executing, achieving, and communicating. However, when we’re with someone we deeply love and trust, we transition from ‘doing’ to ‘being’. In this state of ‘being’, we are fully present, engaged, and immersed in the moment, not driven by the need to accomplish anything or express everything. This transition can lead to the settling down of our thoughts, contributing to the ‘blank’ state.
The ‘going blank’ phenomenon also has an interesting correlation with the concept of ‘flow’ introduced by positive psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. ‘Flow’ is a state of being completely absorbed in the current activity to the extent that we lose track of time and our surroundings. When we’re with a loved one, especially when the connection is deep and genuine, we can experience a similar state of ‘flow’, where our focus shifts from our thoughts and experiences to the shared moment. This shift can give rise to the feeling of ‘going blank’.
It’s a reminder that sometimes, words are not necessary, and that love and understanding can be conveyed through a mere look, a touch, or shared silence. As the renowned poet Rumi once said, “Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation.” So, when we ‘go blank’, we are not experiencing a lack, but rather a transcendence from the verbal to the non-verbal, from the explicit to the implicit, from ‘doing’ to ‘being’ in love.
Abhishek Fanse 