Hello, Peter Pan!

I realized recently that, even though I have grown spiritually and intellectually over the years, I am still, in essence, the same person I was at the age of 12. I was in sixth grade then, already facing the frustrating vicissitudes of young adulthood, struggling with my self-identity while my classmates — the “normal” kids — played basketball. There was an adolescent rage in me that I still can’t quite explain, but I suspect it had something to do with a deep loneliness coupled with a nascent tendency to over-analyze my own psyche. I was starved for platonic intimacy. Any friendships I managed to cultivate were short-lived.

Do people really change? We all have the ability to grow as human beings; our civilization as we know it would be impossible without the rewards of personal growth. But if you look back at the kid you used to be and compare him or her with the adult you are now, what differences do you see? I believe that our perception of the world and ourselves changes (hopefully for the better), but our souls remain quintessentially the same.

Of course, I am no longer that angry and confused 12-year-old boy. I have taken peaceful solitude over bitter loneliness, gratefulness over festering anger, compassion over childish malevolence. Sometimes, though, there are moments when I find myself regressing, caught up in drama as if I were still that angst-ridden kid, and that’s when I realize that little boy is still here, seeking coherency in a world of puzzling yet joyful complexity. Maybe what I’m trying to say is that, ultimately, we never really grow up.

Five films that inspire me

1. American Beauty Alan Ball’s screenplay is more than just another dark suburban satire; it’s a penetrating look at who we are as human beings. Ball and director Sam Mendes present to us a mirror of our own fallacies and desires, while reminding us that there is much more than what we see on the surface. “Look closer” is the film’s tag line, and it sums it up perfectly.

2. Rudy It makes me cry almost every time. Rudy (Sean Astin), the short, underdog football player who was told by almost everyone he knew that he would never succeed, represents the dreamer in all of us. But most importantly, he’s also the doer, and watching Rudy overcome almost every obstacle he faces, I always feel as though I, too, can accomplish anything.

3. Jerry Maguire Cameron Crowe’s multi-layered movie is almost as complex, joyous and beautiful as life itself. It’s also incredibly funny. Jerry Maguire faces failure, heartache and adversity, but the one thing that keeps him from becoming who he wants to be is himself. “Good at friendship, bad at intimacy, ” one of his ex-girlfriends quip. But in truth Maguire was never really “bad” at intimacy. He never had the chance to experience it. Crowe shows us the good things that can happen when we think with our hearts rather than our brain.

4. Before Sunrise Sometimes when I feel lonely or depressed, this film cheers me up. Read my previous post about this film and its sequel.

5. Waking Life It’s like sitting down with one of your intellectual, philosopher friends and soaking up everything he or she has to say about life. Richard Linklater, the director, enlightens us and makes us think. When I first watched the film several years ago in San Francisco, I left the theater feeling like my life had just changed. It was an experience I still can’t quite articulate. Maybe the title says it all.

Finding the light

When I first heard Plato’s cave allegory many years ago, I was struck with a profound sense of awe. It was as if Plato had risen from the dead and spoken directly to me. In this passage from The Republic, Plato’s wise mentor, Socrates, tells us about a group of men shackled in a cave. A fire burns behind them as they face the wall, staring at shadows of objects projected in front of them. The men perceive the shadows as reality, for this is all they have seen their entire lives.

One man, however, manages to unchain himself and escape from the cave. When he first steps into the real world, he is blinded by the brightness of the sun. But gradually his eyes adjust, and he begins to see the true nature of things. It becomes clear to him that the world of the cave is not the real world at all. The man rushes back to tell his friends about this shocking discovery, but the men only scoff at him, and some even react with anger, for they believe that there is no other reality than the shadows in front of them.

To this day, the allegory of the cave remains startlingly complex and thought-provoking. Many people, in their own way, live inside that cave, staring at nothing but their own false reality and unable to accept anything else. The man who escaped from that cave symbolizes more than mere physical freedom; he represents the knowledge one must have to grow spiritually and intellectually as human beings, to free ourselves from the confines of society.

Enlightenment cannot be attained without self-knowledge. The shadows on the wall of the cave represent fear and ignorance. How many people do you know are unable to see anything beyond those shadows? How many are unwilling to grow and accept something bigger than themselves?

For years, I too, was stuck in this cave. Sometimes, during times times of frustration I even find myself back inside, hiding from reality. But the light! It shines on us despite all the madness. The light is the truth, and to live in a world without it is to become a shadow on a wall, forever confined to obscurity.

Hungry for conversation

Is it too much to ask for intelligent, provocative conversations with another human being?

I don’t judge, I don’t discriminate, and I don’t think I set any unreasonable expectations. I understand that not everyone is inclined to engage in thoughtful, intellectual discourse. But I’m an adult now! Adult conversation — the delightful, refreshing exchange of ideas — has become a rare, difficult-to-find, commodity.

As some people know, I’m not a serious thinker every minute of the day. In fact, sometimes I can be quite silly. Lately, however, I’ve been finding that triviality has begun to outweigh intellectualism; melodrama over self-awareness; easy truisms over challenging thought.

There’s a scene in Richard Linklater’s film, Waking Life (pictured above), in which the protagonist is stopped by a stranger who expresses her desire to step beyond the comfort of social boundaries, stop behaving like “ants,” and start getting to know one another as human beings. It was a refreshing, thought-provoking moment.

I’m hungry. Let’s talk.

Life in comedy

What I loved about doing improv comedy — besides being onstage and the center of attention — was that it forced me to let go of my inhibitions and allow spontaneity to take over. Of course, the funny thing is, what appeared to be spontaneous on stage was, in reality, not so spontaneous at all. It was the result of learning the art and craft of improv. It was about being in the moment, taking what you’ve learned, and making something out of it. You are the writer, actor, and editor all at the same time.

I especially loved the thrill of making the audience laugh. The best moments happen organically. The worst is when you feel yourself forcing the jokes, because improv comedy, ironically, is not about “making” jokes. It’s about telling the truth; be truthful and don’t worry about “being funny” when you’re onstage. Magic occurs when being funny is the least of your concerns.

The same thing can be applied to life. When you aren’t focused on your self all the time, the world — the stage — is a better place. Lighter, happier, funnier. Allowing your mind to become entangled in drama worsens your performance. You stumble, lose focus, and everything starts to go downhill. But when you listen and stay in the moment, just like actors must do onstage, something special and wonderfully mysterious happens. You don’t even have to do any work. You’re just there, taking it in, living and breathing it.

Armenian Idle

Everyday a middle-aged Armenian man who lives in my apartment building sits on the terrace outside my living room window (my apartment is on the first floor, facing the street). His face looks rough and weathered, like a farmer’s, and he has a thick, black mustache, a feature that seems as indelible as his large, protruding ears.

For hours he does nothing except watch people pass by. Occasionally one of his relatives will come out and join him, and they’ll carry an animated conversation in their native tongue. Most of the time, though, the Armenian man sits idly, as if indolence were his sole occupation. He seems to lack any notion of time whatsoever.

I often wonder how anyone could allow so much of his or her life pass by through hours of seemingly perpetual boredom. But then it occurs to me that, I too, have been guilty of such blatant uselessness. Once, after watching a few “Friends” episodes on DVD, I laid on the couch, listening to the ceiling fan whir, trying to think of ways I could be more productive. I endured nearly two hours of unbearable monotony before I finally ventured out to the mall.

There are people out there who, perhaps unconsciously, devote their entire lives to idleness. The middle-aged Armenian man who lives in my building would probably be best described as “blissfully unaware.” He has no qualms about his future, no apparent frustrations about his life. The rest of us should be so lucky.