Yesterday, I met a young man who was far from satisfied with a dental prosthetic that he had already replaced four times, simply because he didn’t like how it looked. His sister recommended me not as a prosthetist but as an orthodontist, thinking that maybe the overall dental alignment was making the mouth’s architecture look unappealing, and that perhaps we could find a solution together.
From a technical standpoint, everything seemed in place.
The prosthetic was well-executed, well-integrated, balanced in terms of aesthetics and occlusal functionality.
Yet, we decided to delve together into this dissatisfaction.
Where does this desire for something more aesthetic, “more beautiful,” come from? For something different?
After all, we don’t change dental work on a whim, based on subjective impressions or fleeting moods.
I found out that, despite being only 29 years old, he works in the IT industry and has already moved about six times. And not just from one part of the city to another, but to entirely different places around the world. He told me that he finds it hard to settle down somewhere, to grow strong, lasting roots.
I had the impression that he didn’t really want to dig beneath the surface, but I still asked him:
What do you feel before making the decision to move again?
I get bored, I don’t find anything new, nothing that excites me. Everything becomes familiar, boring, almost lifeless.
Can I guess something?
Go ahead...
I’m no oracle from Someș, but I have a feeling that your relationships fade quickly, becoming dull, leaving you indifferent, right?
Yes, exactly, and it’s starting to bother me.
You know, we humans are, after all, like “machines” running on “software” that doesn’t know how to make clear distinctions between things. We don’t have multiple brains; we don’t have complex neuromorphic engineering that we can switch depending on the reality context. The way we pedal a bike is the same way we talk, wash dishes, work, relax, have sex, or look at the world.
Before you replace the dental prosthetic once again, my honest suggestion is to try something.
You need to pause for a moment, learn to read the “software,” understand it, discover its limitations and “bugs,” maybe even give it an update, tweak the “UX.”
At first, you might need some “pair programming,” but eventually, I trust you’ll manage with just monitoring.
That’s about all I remember from IT terminology, but I noticed I had a handleless cup in front of me, my favorite cup, and I used it as inspiration to tell him a therapeutic story:
Look, this cup I drink my coffee from reveals to me every day, little by little, the subtlety of the world.
Its color has changed over time, from a deep chocolate brown to a lighter shade, a mahogany with reddish undertones. Its surface has become more wrinkled, more patinated, and those wrinkles and spots have created an almost impressionistic design, with blurred outlines, short strokes, low chromatic variability, like Monet's water lilies. It fascinates me more and more.
I accidentally dropped it on the tile floor, and the base chipped slightly, but the white scar has made it more stable.
I enjoy my coffee from it in the late afternoon or at sunset; that’s when the light and the liquid meet with its brick-colored surface, mingling in warm tones, with softer reflections than in the morning.
The touch has transformed over time; the cup has become an extension of my hand, it fits differently in my palm, I’ve absorbed it into myself, yet I still don’t fully know it.
I don’t think you can truly understand the world without stopping and closely observing what you see, what you have around you.
Things reveal their essence gradually, as our eyes become ready to see beyond the surface, beyond the filters we’ve placed ourselves.
People, places, objects, subjects don’t become boring; we are the ones insufficiently trained perceptually to grasp them.
There are no shortcuts for this, just the mirage of the pernicious spirit of boredom or imaginative fantasy. It makes us believe there might be a “shortcut.”
I like to extract details of reality that others don’t see, even though they’re within everyone’s reach.
That’s how I discovered over time that the most enigmatic hiding places are in plain sight.
We constantly have answers to the dilemmas that gnaw at us inside, but the filters we use block our ability to recognize them.
I asked him what he does consistently. What hobbies does he have? He told me he runs daily.
He often changes his route but has a pair of running sneakers he won’t give up.
I used that story, and if he wants to work together, his homework is to notice nuances, dialogues, transformations he has observed in those shoes and what makes him hold on to them.
They, too, become an inspiring cup!
With curiosity, I also ask you: if you look closely around, what do you see now that you weren’t ready to notice yesterday?
In the same people, places, or things…
“In an atom lies all the elements of the Earth.
In a movement of the mind lies all the movements of existence.
In a drop of water lies all the secrets of the infinite oceans.
In one aspect of yourself lies all the aspects of life.” (Kahlil Gibran)
Dare!
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