'Mastering others makes you strong,
mastering yourself makes you fearless.'
[Lao Tzu, "Tao Te Ching"]

I consider myself a living paradox, in any number of ways. I could describe myself as a Taoist in one breath and an Atheist in the next and feel I spoke the truth both times. I could alternately describe myself as either the most or least religious person I know, depending on the context, and again, consider it the truth both times.

I've recently experienced a number of peculiar sensations, largely attributed to another paradox, or irony, or whatever you might call it: having some time ago reversed the misfortune of a life spent judging the present by benchmarks of the past, I joined Facebook, and in a matter of mere weeks found this tool able to reconnect me with dozens of people I've not seen or heard from in over a decade. Having finally let go of the elusive past, it has made itself readily available.

What few interactions I've had have mostly been predicatable, and the paths their lives have taken have been largely unsurprising, with an exception or two. And what of the exceptions? Is it that their lives took turns I could not have anticipated, that their circumstances led them in directions I'd never have guessed? Or could it be perhaps that I misjudged them? Perhaps way back then when I thought I knew them well, I simply did not, and now their lives should likewise be decidedly unsurprising to me.

Regardless, it's certainly not my place to judge anyone but myself. So whether it was a lack of foresight on my part, or a lack of understanding of the truth of the time, either way they are who they are, they've become whomsoever they've become, and I have likewise. Or perhaps, once again, it is an addleminded memory or even the "paradoxically fallacious nature of truth" at work. Who can say?

I wonder if they, like myself, consider themselves very different people now from who they were then? Do they see me and think "yep, that's exactly what I'd have expected", much as I do of most of these "blasts from the past"? Did they see coming what I myself couldn't?

You'd think, reading this, that this ability to reach back in time has filled me with burning questions, and yet I don't feel full at all. Rather, I feel indifferent, with a slight touch of disappointment.

Why disappointment? I can't say. Perhaps I expected all the catching up to be more exciting or fulfilling. Perhaps I expect more or fewer surprises. Maybe I expected some to change more than they have, or others less. All totalled, I guess it's been surprisingly unsurprising.

But this emptiness where there should be fullness, which in the past I'd have described as a bad thing, is these days a good thing. This indifference that in the past I'd have described as depressing is nowadays a path to tranquility. I can't fill myself with happiness without first emptying myself of sadness. I can't fill myself with hope for the future without emptying myself of disappointment for the past. So I am at once both empty and full, both troubled and serene. And I can no longer imagine myself any other way, being I'm both the most and least religious person I know, both Taoist and Atheist, both fatalistic and free-willed.

So at the end of the day, I guess most simply put: I am both grateful and disappointed at learning the "truths" that I'm not sure I believe but couldn't be bothered to question. And yet strangely, I felt compelled to write about it, which is amusing, in the very least, to one of us.