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Sometimes NOTHING Makes Sense

Does this sound familiar? Are there times when life seems to fall apart? It is at these times, more than usual, that we try to wrestle some sense in the situation, but nothing makes sense. We ask ourselves, why, but in vain. Things seem to happen randomly, especially the ‘bad’ things, and this lack of order and predictability throws us off completely. There are things we believed would always remain the same – a job we thought we would always keep, a loved one but who died without warning, a serious illness we never expected to contract – we try to understand why, but nothing makes sense.

This is when, it is easiest to fall prey to depression, easy to give up – all your efforts seem to be in vain – seem to be nothing. You replay events in your mind, obsessing over them, driving yourself insane – yes, this happens.

When this happens and nothing makes sense, believing is the hardest thing to do. Life seems to be a collection of nothing makes sense occurrences, which become a reality making us abandon every kind of belief. When we face these ‘nothing makes sense’ realities, we feel most vulnerable and bare. We feel incredibly ignorant, helpless, and stupid, but yet when we see others faced with similar ‘nothing makes sense’ realities, we are tempted to ‘guide them’ with the clichéd spirituality and pious modes.

Make no mistake, that in these tough times, the typical pious statements make no sense, offer no encouragement or comfort, and are at best judgmental and a show of being ‘superior’. You or a loved one or someone you know, may be going through the ‘nothing makes sense’ phase, please refrain from making these pious statements, and instead reflect on the ‘reality’ of the ‘senseless phase’.

We have and will continue to find ourselves sucked into the ‘nothing makes sense’ phase, and for me, asking ‘why I am unable to find some semblance of sense in the situation’ seems to help. Of course, the answers do not just start pouring in, but it encourages me to gather information to understand why nothing is making sense. Sometimes no one has any information – for instance, why did I lose the love of my life of 24 years, in a matter of seconds?
At other times, we lack information since in our ‘nothing makes sense’ phase, there may be someone else who holds the solution that would bring sense to things but the person may be unwilling to share that solution. Seems cruel, mean, and heartless – but this is true. At times, we get the information, but we fail to understand it, making the information useless and taking us back to ‘nothing makes sense’.

Whether we accept it or not, these ‘nothing makes sense’ phases will remain, and we need to make peace with it. Some of you might read this and think “what a load of rubbish”, while others may concur and think about what sense they can make when ‘the phase’ does strike. The idea was not to resolve my own or your ‘nothing makes sense’ phase, because many a time, I find my own musings and resolves rather absurd and utterly ridiculous. However, I do know that several times I am able to gain some degree of peace by ending the relentless pursuit of trying to uncover all the factors that would allow me to make sense of all situations and the mysteries that life continues to throw at me.

Writing is An Art Form

The appreciation of the art of writing came early in life. I read countless books, fascinating stories, and tales woven together with exhilarating content. I translated my desire to write superlatively, into my school work – essays, spelling competitions, answers to questions in literature, and more.

Writing is an art form – it sometimes has structure and other times it is free flowing. Sometimes it builds to a conclusion from basic assumptions and premises, while other times it is purely about how one feels. I love the variety.

I know there is a lot to learn – the mechanics of what makes a great piece. Words that click and teach me how we humans make sense of our world – we do not remember arguments but cling on tightly and long to stories. Stories make our lives meaningful – not because they may be technically correct – but rather what they mean to a person. Narratives make for great content – else they are just facts strung together in words.

As a child, I spent a lot of time alone – my life became the stories I told myself during these times I spent with myself. The stories were my internal narratives – my deepest desires and my darkest fears. Every letter somehow coalesces into words, become a fundamental building block and then build a story and– it is how we see and define ourselves, gain some semblance of sense of the world and the people in it.