If fiction mirrors reality, then one of the universal royally convoluted truths that fiction highlights is the importance of banal, common, choices. A man is paralyzed in an accident: one he would have avoided by minutes if he had not decided to go ahead and throw the laundry in the dryer. A woman on her break decides on one interchangeable fast food joint over another and is bought lunch by her future husband. To parody an ever-playing advertisement; their kid cures cancer - or becomes a mass murderer. Who knew curly fries instead of regular ones were so critical? Reactions to everyday choices and their impacts -good and bad - vary, but the general vibes are ones of worldly suffering through such drivel or unspoken rising tension as fiction is held as a standard for the writing of real life. We sigh or smile, raise the expectations, and begin playing out possibilities good and bad. In defense against unwanted emotions by all parties, the only socially acceptable thing to do is mock the screen, the writing, the acting, the novel.
And yet. Outwardly jaded as our multi-choices-a-second culture has become on the subject of serendipity, there is still a sparkle in our tones as we tell the stories of first meetings, windfalls, and happenstances. We have a harder time accepting death or emotional loss if it is "just so senseless" and without a socially acceptable or reasonable cause. We say 'thank goodness I...' on the blessings and 'if only...' on the banes. There is a recognition and manifestation of common choice consequences and their myriad potentials of alternatives to our chosen normality. Jaded facades construct a paradoxical aggression defending against the idea of minor inclinations creating major sieges on our lives full of fear created in turn by our own free will. An armored culture whispers memes in our ears and we take them in, reassured, unquestioning of the comforting cliches. "Stress kills." "Worry is unproductive."
"Never, ever, sweat the small things." We choose to try the advice. We ignore twinges of premonition and repress visualizing the unbidden scenarios involving a car, a ditch, and possibly an other's poaching arms when actuality is a verbose boss or clogged freeway causing delay. We are no longer the dinner companion that requires double the time to decide on an entree. Insomnia is enervated as twitchy neurons calm a frenzied exploring of future disasters. Self-worth becomes verdant and introspection reveals the id purring in a corner as the ego basks in a sun drenched now. Could there be any kind of loss associated with such a carefree paradise and security?
A parent in tune with their child will recognize the benefit in dessert. A limited sweet, it rewards, boosts the mood, and relays a simple joy. However, many of its positive qualities stem from the very fact that it is in a finite quantity and availability. Like a feather or a pretty stone in a child's wooden treasure box, the value is enhanced by its separateness.
"A limitation brings appreciation." Begin spreading that sentence around and see if doesn't become a security blanket cliche as it pervades the culture, making it acceptable to say, to pleasure or pain, "Enough." One of the dangers of the carefree paradise, that deliberate decision of no worries,
hakuna matata, is a lack of drive and capability caused by a pervasive attitude of any problem being of no more consequence than a slowly opening sinkhole in an open parking lot. We get so used to going around and ignoring whatever the issue is that the jolt of reality and harshness seems greater when the day comes and the obstacle is unprepared for, no longer a choice, and a chasm.
Lest there be some confusion, saying "enough" and allowing a balanced and healthy amount of worry over everyday decisions, banal and otherwise, is
not to condone the seeking of the roughest route available and avoidable in a vain attempt validate self-inflicted neuroses. That kind of emotional masochism is the mirror opposite of the self-growth that the no worries meme is supposed to facilitate. It's eating dessert only to illness.
Common choices, barring coma or complete loss of self, are unavoidable, as are their unpredictable detours and sinkholes they can put in a smooth and straight planned path. To refuse concern and shun the painful maybes is to also deaden oneself to the wonder of the unexpected gems and invite an ennui, boredom and apathy, that is gilded and glittering to the point of complacency. To worry and waver with every action is to lose the amazement of everything that "now" is. Moments of worth will pass unnoticed in the concern of missing the next better opportunity or in attempting to find that other side where the grass is just a bit of a different color. The alternate is to give the worries autonomy and high command and begin preparing for Armageddon, Ragnarok, and a two week power outage with people waiting to betray your very soul for anything not anticipated. Zombies are expected.
For the overthinkers, perhaps and what-ifs of questionable probability begin to rule and the now, the only time anything is experienced for real, is lost to a quivering farsighted blindness.
Fear is an uncrowned ruler of current culture. This fear in particular is enough to reduce one's self to clinging shreds of anxiety, incapable of turning off and letting go of the future and past for even a short time. The plethora of choices in life, instead of being an exhilerating exploration and sampling of diversity, instead become an oversaturated minefield with no map and an audience you can feel and adimosity of.
Humanity still struggles with a phobia of failure and disapproval. Though methods have changed, embarrassment and shunning are still weapons we all use to express disapproval toward a given individual or group. From the stockade in the past to online humiliation now, societal expectations still
