The Cynics

Don’t believe the hype and bustle,

the force so strong it pulls you under.

Cynicism is running rampant through our minds, hearts and souls.

The need to force upon others a jaded viewpoint, rough and burred around the edges, the know-it-all arrogance that accompanies a cynic.

I’ve been there, felt it, and stomped on dreams others had by pointing out their hopeful banter as silly and childish. It eats me up, it smudges my soul, to have at times been a beacon that ran dark, when I had the power to light them up like a lighthouse showing the way for an errant ship.

I can excuse it as pointing out the reality of life but who am I to define someones else’s reality? Who am I to squish with force all dash of joy that exudes from people?

Who am I to project a cynical view on another’s mind?

Perhaps, and it’s a big perhaps, cynicism could come in useful from an analytical standpoint, but to live as such, to encompass entirely the need to subjugate your fellow animals into a distrustful and constant negative view of your surroundings is draining and aging. I can see the toll in the eyes of the cynics, the paranoia and distrust ravaging a soul that was once young and exuberant. “No-one is good enough, everything is tainted”, and if you base your view of the world on mass and social media, you will find yourself drowning in a small cup of water, bombarded from above with notions that people have gone mad and lost all sense of humanity.

I cannot help but feel that when cynicism grasps my heart, it is mostly out of anger and tantrum-throwing, rebelling against the randomness of life and sticking to a victim mentality, that I can often take myself so seriously that humor is lost upon my twisted views.

I have young ones in my family (friends included, they are the family I chose) and I want them to have a viewpoint on life that is not satiated by hate and a jaded existence. I do not want them to be blunted down into a dull perspective, a self-righteous smugness that radiates outward and has no effect but to sink and bury. Yes, they should be aware of the dangers of being alive, the evil that can inhabit our world and the need to be prepared but not paranoid.

I may not have children of my own, yet if anyone ever looks up to me, (I’m looking at my nephew, hopefully he reads this one day) I want him or whomever, to see hope and silliness, even through the gut-wrenching pain, I don’t want him or anyone to see despair and loss of yearning for more.

To publicly choose love, empathy and hopefulness can be seen as weak and naive, the cynics will mock it, they will try to revive in you a pompous need to point out that you are wrong for choosing love, even through the pain.

I have seen things in my life that would make your blood boil and your mind explode with grief, and at times I can fall in a pit so deep it seems impossible to claw my way out. Yet, I realize that when my mind is at its weakest point, its when my cynicism explodes, there is an arrogance to that attitude, a need to be able to tell someone “I told you so” when they hit a wall for pursuing their most valued dreams.

Conclusion for me, don’t take myself so seriously, don’t be fooled into “growing up”.

We should strive for those creases around our eyes and mouths from smiling and laughing. The world hurts, it can be painful, brutal and unfair, the well to hell and despair runs deep, don’t fall into that darkness. Secure yourself to the world, tighten that noose of safety to an old, strong tree, secure it with passion and trust, so when you trip and fall, you can grab on tightly and pull yourself out once again.

My advice? Act silly often, loose yourself in curiosity, in child-like wonder, seriousness has a place but it should only be a dash of sprinkles on top of your ice-cream cone, and ice-cream is generally sweet, tasty and fun.