The concrete jungle is a dark place, filled with shadows cast by buildings and people, cars and trains. Delving into it, walking, driving, riding the train—that is how we explore its depths. I walk barefoot in the concrete jungle through the cold and wet weather. I am aware of nothing but my own thoughts—time seems to slow. I do not notice the rough pavement or the cold air—the dichotomy between perception and reality has faded and my perception of reality is devoid of a consciousness of material circumstances. The rain is my baptism, the wind is my confirmation.

It is here that I realise that creation comes only through destruction. In order to produce something new, something old must be destroyed. Whether it is the integrity of a crayon that is destroyed to fill in a colouring book or a river valley that is destroyed to create a lake and generate electricity to feed our consumerist society, destruction precedes creation, whether it be through transformation or through annihilation. To progress, we must first destroy the old order—an action that could be seen as regress. Thus, without destruction, we cannot progress. “Self-improvement is masturbation.” Tyler Durden rings in my head—I am Jack’s occupied mind. Why is self-improvement considered masturbation? By itself, without the pretext of destruction, it has no real effect and merely is an illusion of improvement—much as the orgasm reached through masturbation brings no effect and is merely an illusion of sex. Thus, in order to truly improve ourselves, we must initially embark upon a path of destruction.

Society views destruction as inherently negative and places a value on self-improvement in a masturbatory sense, and thus, your immediate reaction to the stated proposition is one of alarm and fear. There is no need to fear destruction—it is merely the precursor to creation. In order for us to truly achieve self-improvement, we must dismantle the old order that we are attempting to replace, leaving only the positive pieces behind for us to build our new foundation upon. Our willingness to abandon or destroy what is familiar to us, even if it is negative, is what keeps us from progress. Outdated institutions must be dismantled and brought to speed. Controlled demolition allows us to progress. Reckless destruction and reckless creation create no real lasting change. Abandon the negative aspects of your previous life —controlled self-destruction— and you shall have a platform for true self-improvement.

Do not misconstrue my words by viewing them through the lens of society that casts them as incorrect. I am not advocating senseless or reckless destruction. I am advocating taking the middle path and destroying what is negative while keeping what is healthy—much like how an oncologist treats cancer. Everything must be done in moderation as a move towards either extreme leads to regress. A parallel to this would be the abandoning of an unhealthy diet in favour of a healthy one. By doing that, we destroy the old order so self-improvement may occur. I am not a radical thinker. My manner of presentation is merely more strongly worded than what others have proposed.

I am calm. I have found truth amidst the concrete jungle. My mind is empty.

Why is this relevant to the assignment? It is an example of what I view to be a spiritual activity and the thoughts associated with it. For me, a spiritual activity contributes to experience and the development of the soul. It ranges from walking barefoot within the city, to driving long distances amidst the distressed serenity of the freeway, to nights spent within an embrace of tangled sheets and flesh, to time spent observing the movement of people in the roar of the cafeteria. What do I gain from these activities? Peace. Peace through an utter disconnect from the material aspects of the world. For the moments described previously, all what matters are my thoughts. For these moments, my numerous failures are erased from my consciousness—I am free from my insecurities. For these few precious moments, I achieve a release from thoughts of the material world, then release from my thoughts altogether, culminating in emptiness.

There is beauty in emptiness. Without emptiness and an escape from myself and my mind, I would end up on a path of reckless self-destruction. These spiritual experiences are what allow me to see the virtue in creation and moderation. Without them, I would cease to exist. I know this to be true because of multiple experiences, most recently being this semester. Without these experiences, I have no motivation to progress or perform any action whatsoever. Without the occasional release of all thoughts, everything begins to jumble together, creating a mess of a situation where nothing is clear. I do not know what to think then, and my actions move on the path towards destruction. The irony is that my insecurities stem from actions of self-destruction undertook when in this state of mind—it is thus a vicious cycle.

I gain acceptance through these activities. I accept that I have failed through my own actions—a product of the apathy brought about by a lack of emptiness. It is not easy to accept that one has failed, but emptiness allows us to recognise that we must accept failure in order for us to progress. This acceptance comes through an open mind —tabula rasa, the blank slate free of any previous writing— that allows us to see the opportunity for creation within this destruction. Through the tool of emptiness, I can progress amidst the ruins of senseless self-destruction by seeing the ruins as building blocks to a better tomorrow. A better tomorrow—that’s the hope that keeps me going.

What opportunities for creation do I see in my impending failure of this class? The answer to this question is also the answer to the question you have asked about what are the most valuable lessons I have taken from this class. My failure of this class has taught me more than any other class that I have ever taken. It has taught me about myself. What I have taken away from wellness is that I am something that is worth trying for. I recognised that I should not waste my abilities by allowing myself to fall into a state of apathy. I have realised that I am much more than just a meaningless entity within the masses of the human race—I have a name, an identity, a collection of thoughts and abilities that makes me unique.

This course has taught me the principle of impermanence—all things shall eventually go to dust. I am not perfect. I am not infallible. I am not invincible. I cannot always have the expectation of success. Thus, I am not afraid of failure or death—all things must come to pass. If I had not failed this class, I would not have reviewed what I had done and what I had not done, nor would I have introspected upon the nature of things. Thus, through failure, I became enlightened.

This is not saccharine. This is not artificial sweetness. Please do not take it in that manner. I write this without ulterior motives. For me, I have progressed in the wake of destruction. Progress is what I ultimately desire, and this course, and my impending failure of it, has provided me with an instance of that. Thank you. Thank you for the opportunity for self-improvement. Most of all though, thank you for reading this far—at least somebody is listening.

Once more, I find myself in the state of emptiness; I am at peace.

You ask for what reason I stay on the green mountain; I smile, but do not answer—my heart is at leisure. Peach blossoms are carried far off by flowing water; Apart, I have heaven and earth in the human world.

—Li Bai, “Question and Answer on the Mountain”

Endlessly moving
Unfalteringly engaged;
Cities never sleep

Small, so delicate
Toys in the cold autumn night
—the cars keep moving

So strong, so agile
Presence announced by a roar;
Patience—it has none

Silence on the road
Such beautiful emptiness
—The howl starts anew

From measured infatuation to unconditional love, it was a journey—it still is a journey, a journey that either stops prematurely or continues towards an unseen end—the former two being simple stops on that path. It is a beautiful feeling, to know that you are cared for and wanted—in a positive manner—by somebody. It is an even more beautiful feeling to care for someone and to want someone. That feeling, it is that feeling which helps you so very much in the midst of darker times, when you feel alone, because even then, you know that there’s someone there waiting for you, caring for you, hoping for you, thinking of you—a reason to continue trying, working, hoping, a reason to not give up, a reason to persevere. She helps me up when I stumble, sometimes multiple times, falling, falling, falling—falling into a spiral of self-destructiveness. We are each others’ greatest support, each others’ anchors in the storms of life.

Strolling through dusty trails, hand in hand, the setting sun stretches its amber embrace over the firmament, reaching from corner to corner, touching our very souls. A view—we can see a valley, a wide green valley, a wide green valley punctuated by the occasional house—we are surrounded by wildflowers, fragile, mystical, utterly unfazed by man’s advances on their realms; they are a thing of beauty, but they do not rival her beauty. She is far more beautiful than the moon and the stars that hide overhead, waiting for the sun to release it’s grip on the sky above, waiting to peek out in pure jealousy at the beauty in my arms—another kiss—every single time, we feel butterflies floating, meandering, flying, flying in our stomachs.

It is not always so easy and so carefree, but so is the nature of most things in life with substance. To love somebody is also provide them access with an unmatched ability to hurt you—you have opened up to them and you have placed so very much trust in them, and with such mutual feelings comes such an ability—the ability to do so much more damage. It is not easy when we fight, it is not something we enjoy, but it is something that happens—something that hurts. It is even more painful when we are so far apart—that profound sense of loneliness hits you, and you wish so hard that you had her in your arms, telling you that everything will be fine. On some days, the pain is far too much, and the temptation to push away is overwhelming, but it is perseverance—and the hope for a better tomorrow—that keeps us trundling forward, along with occasional bouts of aid from the other person. We provide the most happiness and the most pain to each other—so is the paradox of love.

Wishes at 11:11, wishes on shooting stars, wishes on eyelashes fallen down, wishes, wishes, wishes, dreams, and hopes—they cross through our mind as we lie tangled together in bed, bodies tiredly pressed together, sheets and hair askew, joyful, blissful, content—all what matters at that exact moment is us. Time ceases to move forward in our perception and the outside world grinds to a halt—we are blissfully unaware of anyone or anything other than us. We treasure that feeling so very much, because for that period of time, nothing else matters, nothing else worries us, nothing else bothers us—the magic of a kiss, the magic of being held in someone’s arms, the magic of being in love.

इश्क़ के जज़्बातो को बताए कैसे
अरे ये थोडे ही ढल पाये है लब्जो मै मेरे
कहा से लाउ वोह किताब या सियाही
जो लिख पाये अनगिनत एह्सास मेरे?

—Unknown Source

Wind that once merely shook a curl from her hair or batted at his eyes now became animated, became breathing, became a creature— a creature that was now alive, filled with energy, filled with strength, filled with emotion. It wove its way though their exposed limbs and heads, cooling, chilling, freezing—freezing their expressions of joy at its tickling. The clock shining a bright 3:27 did nothing to them. The sign announcing that it was 63 above did not affect them. The strains of Debussy, Holst, and Mouret emanating from the speakers, so uncharacteristic to their age and temperament, did not faze them. The statistics that surrounded their area, where education did not even deserve a single whole digit and crime demanded multiple figures, did not scare them. They were young. They were reckless. They were drunk on life. For them, all what mattered was the simple idea that they were free—free to think, to imagine, to dream.

A dog’s bark amid the water’s sound—Peach blossom that’s made thicker by the rain. Deep in the trees, I sometimes see a deer, and at the stream I hear no noonday bell. Wild bamboo divides the green mist—A flying spring hangs from the jasper peak. No-one knows the place to which he’s gone—Sadly, I lean on two or three pines.

—Li Bai, “Visiting the Taoist Priest Dai Tianshan But Not Finding Him”