A different approach…
I am turning the whole thing around and try to get my posts out of the way in the morning. That might make things easier.
Why do I work so hard? Why do so many people work so hard? There must be an underlying idea that we are only significant if we have something to show for it. Our minds were programmed in a way that we as we are naturally are not good enough. I am not saying all of us are like that. It really depends on our programming, our upbringing, on our parents. I was brought up that way.
Sometimes I wonder how the world would look like if we all grew up feeling perfectly fine about ourselves. Would people be so driven? Would there be all these skyscrapers on the island of Manhattan? Is great art created out of the same feeling? Would our society be at the same level as it is now? Would be no reason for war? Would we have the Internet and computers and mobile phones if everybody would feel good and not push that hard?
Or would the world be a much better place since we all would want to play and have fun. We would still work but see it as a game and while we are playing with things we come up with all these amazing inventions. And because we feel good about ourselves we do not have to hurt others to make them feel as inadequate as we do. Maybe the skyscrapers would be taller, better more advanced. Or they would be not as tall but much more fun to work in since we realized the more fun we have more productive we are and the better the outcome will be.
When we are children life is not serious it is just play. At least this is what it should be. For some of us being responsible starts at a very young age. Sooner or later somebody will tell us that life is not about playing it is about work. To be a good person you have to work hard and give back to society. You have to show the world that you can achieve something, that you are worth something, that you are special. But at this time of my life, as a young child, did I care to be special? All I cared about was to play with my toys. So who wanted to be special, who wanted to be looked up to? My parents. “Look at Mr. and Mrs. Fleck what an amazing son they have, they are such amazing parents.” It was all about them. They wanted to be the heroes they wanted to be recognized. I took on their beliefs. Most of my life I spent to try to impress them, to show them that I was worth something since naturally that was not the case.
I worked in a bank for years because that used to be a job people would look up to back then. I was so unhappy but my parents were proud, I was on a tall ship for eight months crossing the Atlantic under sales. When I came back home my mother was not even able to pick me up from the railway station, I had to take a taxi. I came to New York eleven Years ago. My mother came here a few times but she neither gets me or my life since she has an idea in her head who her son is that has nothing to do with who I am or who I ever will be. My father who was a travel agent his whole life is not able to spend eight hours on a plane to come here to give me some sort of acknowledgment about what I have achieved.
Do I have to show myself that I am worth something through achieving great things? Absolutely not. I am happy with who I am. Do I still try to impress my parents? Do I want to show them that I am worth to be loved? Here we go, bingo! That is why I work so hard, That is why I can not stop myself writing the blog, doing all sorts of exercises, this is why am so driven. If I just complete this year of writing, if I just get to shoot this campaign they will finally understand. Maybe we all should ask ourselves why we do what we doing. The answer to this question might be a surprise.
Will I ever get the acknowledgment, the approval I have been waiting for? Never! So why not stop and let go of trying to achieve the impossible? That is what I am doing. From now on I will only do things for myself. I will do what I originally came here to do. Play with life.
New Beginning. Williamsburg/Brooklyn 01-18-08 at 03:13 PM.
Please check out my website at carstenfleck.com