Everyone’s Mosaic That You Don’t See
“Everyone’s Mosaic That You Don’t See” revolves around an idea that I was introduced to not too long ago. A friend showed me a video of a man who explained how everyone is composed of a mosaic. That man always drank his coffee black because a college dorm mate told him about all the health benefits; whenever he bought canned sauces from a store, he would spin the can towards the end because that was the way his father got every last drop; he made sure to stick to his vegan diet after breaking up with his ex-girlfriend, because he wanted to prove to himself that he didn’t start it for the sake of their relationship. Every word that we hear, and every experience that we go through, inevitably, and perhaps unknowingly, shapes us in some sort of way, and it often may be unclear how until much later down the road.
The most interesting thing about mosaics, especially the larger ones, is that the individual tiles make no sense on their own (i.e. they are usually a plain, singular-color, tinted piece of glass). A tile alone usually can not be a piece of art. However, as the individual tiles accumulate, they start to form an image, until eventually it becomes something worthy of presenting. Just like the tiles of a mosaic, an individual’s experiences may not seem significant by itself, but as the various pieces slowly start to gather, they form the individual into the person that they are today. I strongly believe that these tiles are not always tangible objects or remembered events; ponderings, dilemmas, or personal revelations are just as valid. Finally, it fascinates me that even the same event can act as different tiles in different people’s mosaics.
Yet, for the longest time, this was something that agonized me. I could never unshaken the anxiety that came along with not knowing something, especially if it were aspects about certain people that fed into my insecurities (or inadequacies as Montaigne would put it). College rejections would make a fine example. While conciliatory in nature and filled with polite reassurances, college rejections letters rarely leave one satisfied. Thus, when you see somebody around you that you felt was a “worse” student get into somewhere you got rejected from, you become overwhelmed with a wave of frustration, disorientation, and to be quite frank, anger. Questions regarding what it was about these students that got them in would perpetuate in my head, wondering what they had that I lacked. Being unable to point at a reason other than my personal shortcomings, I would often try to cope through self-deprecating humor or ignore the problem, which never really worked.
Although I can’t say that I have my life figured out and that I will never again struggle with these issues, I can say that The Imperfect Art of Living, IMPACT, and my cohort has helped me realize a multitude of things. Firstly, frustrations arise when there is a collision between a person’s desire and an unyielding reality — frustrations that hurt the most when they are unexpected. Thus, it is important for us to keep this idea of potential suffering in mind. If something disastrous were to happen, hopefully it would hurt a bit less this way.
Secondly, so what? The complexities of the world are so diverse and numerous that it is is unfathomable. What may or may not be the reason behind your suffering is just another cog in the way of the world — much of what happens around us is not even in our control. Any frustration that comes along with not knowing something can be slightly alleviated with this: you will never truly understand the entirety of something. There will always be pieces of the mosaic hidden.
This isn’t to say that everyone should just employ a nihilistic philosophy, say that nothing matters, completely lose their moral compass, and just do whatever they want. However, it’s a reminder that whatever event you may go through, no matter how rough or discouraging, to remember that it’s only one of many pieces that will ultimately shape your mosaic.
