How do you validate your existence, and do you really have to?

Everything seems about purpose nowadays. As an essentially lazy person, this irks me just a little because it turns out just doing things is not very cool anymore. Like, just reading a book. Just sitting in the sun. Just doing something for the heck of. Why, they'll say? What were you trying to learn, where were you trying to go, why didn't you post it on Facebook, so all of us could enjoy it too?
Everything must have a course to take and an end to meet. I sometimes feel like social media has entrenched this need for validation so deep in our souls now that there's no going back. We post our whole lives on social media -- it's like we're putting it out there to validate the way we live, our friends, our relationships. Look, see, tell me it's awesome! More 'Like's must mean that what we're doing is right. It must mean that we're leading a good, exciting life. It's a form of seeking adulation that most of us -- including myself -- are guilty of.

Seeking validation anywhere outside the self could be seriously detrimental, I feel. When you look to another for the reason of your existence and a ratifying of the principles by which you live, you know you're in deep. Easier said than done, of course, is finding purpose and satisfaction within yourself, and not needing anyone else to give you thumbs-up signs, virtual or otherwise.

It's hard, as you go on. You want to impress new friends, bosses, colleagues, lovers. You want them to tell you that you're getting it right. Our work culture is mostly based on feedback -- our chain of remuneration is based on how 'good' we are at what we 'do'. I guess that's why we seek evaluation and appraisal systems in our personal lives as well -- Tell me I'm beautiful. Say it again that I'm smart. Explain to me about how awesome my life plan is.

To be honest, the simple life is way beyond us now. We're too bogged down in our connected, social, dependent lifestyles. But still, maybe we can try to at least to stop seeking validation in others' eyes. All those Facebook memes must be right -- being yourself is the best thing.

Late-life-student ramblings

Why? Sitting here with a coffee and a blank Word document in front of me, wondering why we go through this charade that is "educating ourselves".

Groan.

Distance

Stretched. Wide between
The lives
That moved, endlessly
To the beat of the insistent
Drums of ambition and
What was expected.
Soon, the cracks
Became chasms
Into which moments
Fell, unattended
And words tumbled,
Never said, or half said.
It was all calm, like a
Dead sea
On a still, airless day
With no wind or a wave
To ruffle surfaces.

The drums beat on
And the chasm
Widened
Hungrily.

Canons and the Chinese

Things seen while whizzing past my favourite Colombo place, in a blur. Galle Face still smells the same. Although I don't get close enough to smell the wafting aroma of isso wadey, you turn in from the roundabout, you see the flash of green, and the sea hits your nose. It's a smell that will always remind me of HOME, no matter how land-locked I get or far away I go. That smell of Third-World-country beachfront; tropical, warm, and like an old friend you never realised you would miss.
So I whiz past, the new pavement kicking up dust. It's, what, noon, so the pavements are littered with construction workers in bright fluorescent orange work/life vests. They are probably taking their mid-day 'nap'. Sprawled under coconut trees, supporting each other, in various states of sleep. Some squint at the passing vehicles, another dozes with his life vest pulled over his face to protect him from the startling sun.  This is 'new' Colombo -- the making and makers of it. I figure they're construction workers -- road, port city, or both.
As the backdrop to their siesta, the shining sea and couples with umbrellas. Familiar, again, a 'home' scene. Out there in the outrageous sun, leaning into each other and whispering sweet everythings. Some amble -- playfully, some angrily, in the middle of a tiff. Love and Galle Face and isso wadey -- the inextricable combination.
Then, strolling casually along the pavement like they own it, probably do, a group of Chinese men.I wonder, business men? Construction chiefs? They are walking along, quite relaxed in flapping shirts over tee shirts and long, loose shorts. This new city is partly theirs, after all.
Then we pass the lineup of canons, with soldiers lounging against them. The canons are old and beautiful. They line the Galle Face walk and lend an air of solemnity to the vast green expanse. They remind me of Independence Day celebrations and 21-gun salutes for foreign dignitaries and our fallen young men. These young guys just  lean against the canons and watch the traffic; they're idle now.

I snap a quick picture of the shining sea, the new pavement and the dust that is the port city, as I turn into the road leading to the heart of the city. I feel breeze and sea air, and home city, and dust everywhere! My home is changing fast, but there's nothing like this old lady out there in the whole, beautiful, better-developed world.