A Sunset of Promise

I continue struggling with the physical pain that has forced me into hospital two weeks ago. Thankfully, my pain wasn't that severe today but it's still early days and there can be good or bad days - depending on whether I wake up early enough to take my medication.

I admit there were hard days when I felt I wished to close myself to the world or even die. However, I knew that this pain, like any other thing, is simpermanent and one day will cease to be. In many ways, it's also an illusion if you think about it. All the pain is an result of the nervous system with no material basis.

This isn't implying that it lacs existence but that it arises out of the senses. In other words, if we had problems with our pain senses, we could be prone to doing ourselves harm or even die. Granted, nobody wishes to experience pain but it's good to know if the cup of tea you're about to drink is boiling before you Stuqrt gulping down its contents. Ouch! Stomach ulcer...

In the same way as pain is a warning mechanism that draws our attention to possible damage, I realise that this might have been how the body wanted to let me know that I needed to take a step back and collect my thoughts once-again and reexamine my life. Indeed, I am aware that part of my suffering arose from thoughts that echoed in my mind. When there was no pain. Even the times I was still a young boy.

I've returned home from hospital just a week ago but my memory fails to recall the details. Yet, together with all the memories and experiences I gathered over the years, I can truly say that I feel truly changed. I feel unsure about the future. Then, again, I had the opportunity to learn about myself and my relation to those around me.

in particular, I also found the support of friends and those close to me. We do forget atTimes how nuch we depend on each other, as individuals, on each other's cooperation to live our lives on this little rock we call Earth. For so much could happen to us in so little time that it's foolish to seek only for oneself.

On that note, I note that sunset has turned the day to night. Little things I've got to do. I need to eat, drink and, I hope to sleep.

Preparing for another day of unknown possibilities, preparing for the good and being open to the worse.

The Thing Called Pain

I've been experiencing a sense of pain for over a week. At times, it's as if it won't go away. A thought that I have even when I know nothing in this universe lasts forever.

This fact appears to provide a certain hope that that a future without this pain is certain.
While I wish that this physical pain disappears, so that I can return
to my routine, the fact that it has disrupted the routine gave me the
chance to examine my life and, when the pain is bearable, to force me
to attempt to understand pain.

The world today does well in finding means by which to manage pain. On the other hand, a degree of pain remains an essential sense to ensure
our health and survival. Indeed, feeling pain when putting your hand
on a burning fire can protect us for serious damage. And in so many
ways, pain is such a warning mechanism.

I believe, thus, that this pain I feel today is a result of days when
I failed to pay attention to my body and persisted as the pain
intensified. Eventually, it led to the current situation when I come
face to face with the reality of our human dependency or codependence.

But, if you think about it, pain isn't unreal because science reveals
that the sense of pain results from electrochemical signals
generated in the body. This isn't saying that pain doesn't exist but
that its reality isn't as solid and tangible as it might appear. In
this way, one could say that it's a simulation.

Apart from that, the experience of pain reveals how we are part of the
world and while we are separate in many ways from the world that
surrounds us, such a separation can never be complete but is always
partial and, maybe, artificial.

I appreciate the experience of pain not because I enjoy pain but
because it's giving me a chance to rekindle a sense of wonder.
Breaking up the chains of conventionality and, once more, offering me
the opportunity to pursue new possibilities.

This pain will end. Yet as long as there's only so much I can do at
present, is to learn from it.

The True Meaning of Charity (Part 3)

GO TO PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

As a disabled child, I was angered by people who thought they had the authority to judge who I was. Others who took it upon themselves to define me. To rob me of any claims to individual identity. I know it was wrong of me. However, given the oppressive ideas of who I should be coming from society, I rejected my body and attached myself to a false idea that I was “normal” whatever that word meant. This might be the only way I could escape from sinking into dependence or of submitting to a poor idea of what I could achieve or who I should be. Unfortunately, as we try to deny part of who we are - in my case, the body - we  are also denying to recognise our human reality - choosing instead the safety to an attachment to a fiction that, inevitably, creates dukkha or dissatisfaction.

 

However, before we can take the step and recognise that what we have taken to be “charity” so far has been largely a monetary exchange to calm our conscience. Our practice of “charity” has often been a way to escape from the reality of life and of human injustice. It may have been a way to avoid facing the person we deem to be “In need”. When, in truth, we are simply distancing ourselves because we think we are better persons and, in some perverse way, may even believe that the people going through hard times somehow deserve it. This isn’t real charity however. It shouldn’t be the intention of performing an act of charity for sure.

 

What charity means, according to my current understanding, is the act of being there with the other person. Not believing you are in any way better or more fortunate. It’s an act where you give yourself to the other, placing secondary importance to any differences that are imposed by society. It means accepting the person as a unique individual and at the same time you acknowledge the differences where appropriate, charity requires us to look at the other as a human being. Like us, vulnerable to the process of growth and decay, but also singular in his/her expression of humanity. Genuine charity cannot be separated from compassion. For, in a sense, charity and compassion are, in their true sense, manifestations of the human need to love and belong.

 

While false charity singles out the person in need as someone external to the ideal of humanity, true charity and compassion recognise that the ideal is flawed as it doesn’t exist in the real world. People are not healthy all the time. People get old. people die. And, as for impairment, many people acquire an impairment as they grow older. Thus, it’s the idea of a perfect, healthy and “normal” body which is, in effect, the abnormality here. No such persons who defy the process of nature exist in the physical world we inhabit. And, it’s time that we change our idea of charity from a means to appease our egos and forfeit our human responsibilities to our brothers and sisters, and really practice a compassion that recognises the singularity and uniqueness of the other and, yet, embraces the other as part of his or her own human family.

 

The meaning of charity is about being fully human and opening our heart and mind to others. Not for the sake of feeling or looking good. It’s about reaching out to the other without the shackles of prejudice and pride and vanity. It means being there sharing in the experience of life without imposing yourself on the other but listening to the heart of the other as a person first.

 

As HH the 14th Dalai Lama reminds us:

 

If you want to be happy, 

practice compassion.

If you want others to be happy,

Practice compassion... 

 

Only genuine charity and true compassion can guarantee long lasting happiness for us and to the world that surrounds us.

THE END

The True Meaning of Charity (Part 2)

GO TO PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

I felt that this background information about my past is important in order for one to better understand the other side. That is, the side of the one “supposedly needing charity”. For, unfortunately, while, rightly or wrongly, many praise the efforts of those who help a particular cause, it’s often the case that those who are “in need of help” remain hidden or even distorted to pull at the heartstrings of potential alms giver. And while the media may attempt to reach out to the people that are facing difficult life circumstances, the lives of such people is often misconstrued to fit into the idea that these situations arise only out of misfortune and society appears to have had no part of the play in maintaining a state of inequality or poverty.

 

As a disabled person, I can speak of my experiences as a disabled person. At the same time, while I share my experience of disability with many other disabled people, my experience is also unique and individual. Not every disabled person may have had the same experience of a boyhood which included a conflict between the ideal of a mind persistently contradicted by for what was, for many, an abnormal body. These are the thoughts and feelings that resurface every time I am witness to manifestations of so-called “charity”. But, on reflecting on my life experiences, I realise that our modern conceptions of “Charity” have seldom to do with the idea of charity as it was originally intended. 

 

In fact, what “”charity” has come to mean today is a market exchange where people can calm their consciences by exchanging money instead of bothering to look at others (deemed less fortunate) as equals. In this, modern “charity” is diametrically opposed to the original meaning of a charity that doesn’t seek for its own self. Don’t get me wrong, money is an important element that can help people get out of difficult situations and live a better quality of life they deserve. However, what I have an  issue with is the intention behind the modern constructions of charity. Indeed, those society judges in need of charity are, in many cases, put across as undesirables, broken or wretched and “lives not worth living”..

 

CONTINUED TO PART 3

The True Meaning of Charity (Part 1)

GO TO PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

 

Each year, during this time, I feel a feeling of unease and inadequacy as charity events aimed at collecting funds to help the most needy and, alas, “less fortunate” amongst us. I feel this sense that, as a person, I am somehow less than my friends, family and other human beings living in the world. Having an impairment and consequently experiencing the effects of a disabling society, which sometimes chooses to exclude me and pretends  to  be entitled to speak on my behalf, makes me feel like an object to be used for other people’s  ends and a subject to be spoken about and rarely as a whole person. Indeed, so-called “charity” events seem to inflate the false idea that disabled people are not like other human beings.

 

I regret that I have been uncomfortable to acknowledge my physical reality - my impairment. However, as I have grown to embrace the Buddhist outlook, I acknowledge that my body is part of who I am. Indeed, it has made me who I am today. While some voices in society may dismiss my body as deficient and deformed in some way, the body remains the only means by which I can relate to the world. We are not minds (or souls) trapped in bodies. Both mind and body possess the qualities that make me the persons we are today. Attempting to divide these two aspects of our humanity risks to destroy the value of our integrity as whole persons.

 

Unfortunately, how society talks of the body appears to put across an impossible ideal of the healthy, permanent and fully functional body. Any other variations to this idea are, at best, put across as incomplete or, at worse, unworthy of life. I learned since I was young that my body was the problem. Sadly, this meant that I grew to hate my body and indulged in a fantasy of a disembodied mind. I sought refuge in applying my mind to learn, think and many a time sought to overstrain my body to please those around me. Don’t get me wrong, any physical achievement gives me pleasure and satisfaction back then as it does today. Yet, at the same time, the moments when my body didn’t deliver could become times of great personal failure and guilt for not living up to the high expectations of others that were often unrealistic and, frankly, unreachable given my physical condition.

CONTINUED TO PART 2

The Mystery of Being Human

Two questions:

Who are you?

Who am I?

Some personal reflections…

Are we our body?

Are we our faces?

Are we our voice?

Are we our thoughts?

Are we our feelings or emotions?

Are we our actions?

Are we our personalities?

Are we our name?

Are we our position?

Are we our language?

Are we our faith or belief?

Are we animals?

Are we spiritual beings?

Are we here for a purpose?

Is there an answer?

I find that these are a few of the many questions that I am growing aware of as I practice contemplative Buddhist meditation. There are so many aspects of who we are that we may be forced to define as distinct concepts as if they had an existence of their own.
Yet, a profound meditation on the nature of being forces me to consider that perhaps who I am is neither one or more of the characteristics we often define ourselves with. Our bodies, minds and voices to an extent determine our outer and physical appearance. Our inner being is expressed through a multitude of ways which include those we were born with and others we acquire through social contact. However, we are not our emotions. We are not our voice. We are not our states of mind. We are neither our name or our religion.

Yet, we often choose to belief the illusion that the reality that we express through communication is, in fact, reality itself.

With all the good intentions, some take extreme views to explain the human condition. On one hand, there are those who view reality only in terms of physical objects. There exist nothing beyond what science can measure. On the other hand, there are those who insist that the physical or material reality - although present - isn’t really what makes us humans. I recall some citing a saying to the effect that, it claims, we are spiritual beings trapped in human bodies.

Inasmuch as these accounts contain part of the truth about being, both views seem to hold a limited view of being. For what is a human being? As long as we are alive on this planet, we remain physical beings. At the same time, we are capable to extend our awareness beyond ourselves. We can think. But, contrary to Descartes, we are not who we are because we think. Rather, being is primary to thinking.

Indeed, who we are arises out of aa complex relation between our internal and external realities which give rise to a sense of being. In this respect, we are all of the things that we choose to be but who we are, ultimately, transcends all else. We are beyond concepts.


Once again, I return to being? What does it mean to be me? Who are we really? I believe that we can only find an answer if we stop asking and start listening. For, in silence and with a sincere desire to know, we may find that what we conceive or perceive are but a mystery.

Yes, we may reduce consciousness to a biological process involving interaction between neurones in the brain. We may even deny that there is any reality beyond matter. But, if who we are is an illusion which, in some ways, it is. Then who is asking the question to begin with?

Who is the ‘I’ that is doing the asking?

Who is asking ‘who am I’?

I am!

Now what?

Confessions of a Buddhist at Heart

SADNESS IN HAPPINESS

 

I hesitate to express my thoughts and feelings. I’m afraid of being misunderstood, or even ridiculed. I have progressed a lot in my journey of self-discovery. I have tried to capture this experience in the pages of this blog. I have tried to find a greater meaning to my life and, perhaps, reaching beyond the limitations posed by a restricted view of the world. I sought happiness and satisfaction. I did all of those things.

 

This journey has led me to a spiritual investigation encompassing rich traditions ranging from Christianity to Buddhism. I believe that this process has helped me grow and mature as a human being. I can truly say that I am happy. I really am. Yet, you might find it strange if I told you that this happiness is sometimes permeated by a sense of sadness. A sadness that I can’t really put into words without distorting it. A sadness that I feel when I witness the human stories of unnecessary suffering often brought about by  our failure to relate to others as equals.

 

For, in truth, happiness is a state of being while sadness is an emotion. While we tell others not to be sad, feeling sad is an intrinsic part of life and, indeed, it makes us able to express our compassion to others. You may be happy but feel sad. As I type away, I am happy but sad because I know that people around the world are still facing pain and suffering while any  pain and discomfort I experience pales in comparison.

 

AN AWAKENING?

 

I admit that today I came to embrace the teachings of the Buddha and to better understand what Jesus was teaching in the first century of the Common Era. Yet, in spite of these teachings of love and compassion, under the pretence of belief, we choose to separate ourselves in terms of proclamations. There are many ways which we may choose to define our belief. I may claim I’m a Jew, that I’m a Christian, that I’m a Muslim, that I’m a Hindu, that I’m a Sikh and so on. I may also claim that I’m a non-believer or even an atheist.

 

Yet, there is no such a thing as a non-believer. Everyone believes in something or someone. It’s part of being human. The danger is one we cling to those beliefs and close our minds and hearts to what we judge as being different or absurd. When you relate to another person, are’t believing that the other person is, in some form or another, there - beyond yourself?

 

Today, I declare I’m a Buddhist at heart. I don’t claim that I adopted all aspects of Buddhism. I have questioned and still have doubts about some aspects. Yet, I have found meaning in what I learned. Ironically, perhaps, I am also discovering parallels with the teachings of Jesus and that of the Buddha. I’m not implying that these traditions are the same. What I’m saying is that they share a basic teaching of love and compassion. A message of forgiveness and reconciliation. And, I feel, this is the most important thing - if not the only important thing.

 

By saying that I’m a Buddhist at heart, doesn’t mean that I now detest all I learned from my upbringing as a Roman Catholic. On the contrary, it is an opportunity to more fully appreciate the different teachings and the wisdom contained within those teachings. For, I believe, these people didn’t die to have millions of people kneel and pray to them. They certainly didn’t want people to oppress or kill others in their name. What they really wanted was for us to change our minds and hearts and not close ourselves to a self, which scrutinised, reveals to be empty.

 

In this sense, our emptiness isn’t implying that we don’t exist. Rather it’s saying that we cannot exist to ourselves. All we have and all we are is not our own. It’s a gift we are given by those around us and by the world which sustains our body and mind. In other words, we are co-dependent. At the same time, we must face the reality that, irrespective of any belief we might subscribe to, we are all impermanent.

 

DISCOVERING A UNIVERSAL HUMANITY

 

I have said this before but it’s important to emphasise that as long as we are human beings,  we all go through the same stages of life. We get sick because we are made up of living matter. We get old because our  bodies are constantly renewing themselves. It may sound strange but our bodies today are not the same ones we had 5 years ago and we have also changed the way we look at things. Ultimately, we will one day die. That’s something we all share. We may rarely get sick, or die young, but all of us die.

 

And yet, we seem to live as if this world was our permanent home. We live a life hanging on to our possessions. We put our self above everyone else, believing that we are independent and don’t need anyone else. I admit I am also guilty of holding on to such delusions. However, now I commit myself each day to be more mindful of these thoughts. I don’t want to continue suffering under the influence of afflictive desires, to lose all reason as I am burned by hate. Most importantly, I seek to free myself from the chains of ignorance. An ignorance rooted in an  attachment to all the world has to offer.

 

I’m no better than others. This might sound harsh but we often cling to an idea that we are the most important thing in life. Don’t get me wrong, I am important but I must never forget that who I am today and what I have achieved was only possible thanks to the many people who had a part to play in my life and those who influenced me through their teaching and ideas. There may be many people to thank. Many I don’t even know or met personally. Or whom I’ll ever meet. We often forget that our experience today depends on a chain of people which make our life possible.

 

LIFE IN A CUP OF TEA

 

As I await my cup of tea, I remember my dad who is brewing the tea. I thank him for taking the time to prepare it for me. But, I must also thank the ones who packed the tea for my consumption. The people who have sold the tea to my family. The merchant who got the tea to Malta (my country). The people who have collected the tea leaves in convenient sachets.  Last, but most crucial, the people who spent the time picking the tea leaves and those who processed them to produce the basic component of my cup of tea. So many people and so many connections. There, are of course, many other factors that made this moment of drinking my tea possible but I would bore you to death. And I have learned that every instance of our experience is unique and precious.

 

This is at the reason I have decided to open my heart and express what has been silenced for a long time. I have found meaning in my life. I have found an authentic freedom and happiness beyond my expectations. I am at peace. Yet, as long as I’m human, I will still get sad, still get angry and still feel resentment. However, as I meditate during this quiet afternoon, I realise that as I develop my mindfulness, I feel free from the suffering caused by a failure to recognise the essential impermanent nature of my human experience. Freedom from the suffering caused by a belief that I don’t need anyone in this life.

 

EMBRACING THE HUMAN HEART

 

Truly, when I state that i’m opening my heart to you as a person and describing my embrace of the Buddhist way, I’m simply sharing with you, a stranger, an experience of discovery. While everyone finds happiness in their own ways, I only wanted to share with you a realisation and an affirmation that I have found refuge in the Buddhist way..  I am not even saying that I abandoned all I learned from Christianity. Truth is truth.

 

Today, I’m actually sharing my humanity. And that transcends all our divisions we might built to separate us from each other. Perhaps we fear to admit that, in essence, our differences are secondary to the most important reality in our life.

 

The reality of being human!

Lonely but not Alone - Part 2

Continued from Part 1

Now, we reach the final point of life when this loneliness manifests itself most strongly. a stage of life that every living being must undergo. Death. A five letter word which, in many ways, forms the basis of human history and has defined our species. Ironically, death has also ensured that our species survived all these millennia since it ensures renewal and fresh life. However, even putting it in that perspective doesn’t make it more desirable. Death frightens us for many reasons. One of the reasons that we fear death is that we don’t know what awaits us on the other side.

However, one thing that scares us is the fact that no one can die in our place. We know that once we die, for all we know, there will be nobody. Even more frightening is the realisation that we may lose our sense of self and be nothing - as if we never existed. I’m reminded of the Buddhist teaching that “form is emptiness, emptiness is form”. whatever we may believe, there is nothing in the world that can exist without others. Our craving for an “I” only makes us forget that even if we may be lonely and misunderstood, we may take the opportunity to find ourselves reflected in others and thus grow in compassion.

For, at the same time we feel lonely, many millions are also lonely. while you’re feeling unwell, many millions are unwell or even dying. when your time comes to die, keep in mind that millions of people are also dying and scared of what is beyond. There are also millions who are hoping for a better future and, in their own ways, are doing their part to reduce the suffering. We share this life in all its beauty and its horrors. But, at the end of the day or our lifetime, all the artificial boundaries that set us apart in this life, will become meaningless vanity..


THE END

Lonely but not Alone - Part 1

There are times in our life when we realise the extent of our loneliness. once we leave the safety of our mother’s womb, we find ourselves in a world which appears hostile and foreign to us. we may be surrounded by all the loving and caring people in the world but lacking the ability to make ourselves understood, we can only cry and express ourselves through our bodies. as we grow older, we manage to figure out how to get across and better communicate our needs and, eventually, develop an identity and personality. But this is only possible through our relation with others.

 

Indeed, who we are today is actually a result of many factors., starting with our early experiences with our mothers or caregivers, proceeding to our interactions with other children, then with figures of authority (teachers, religious figures, policemen, etc). The way those around us behave or the way they treated and defined us all has a lasting influence on who we are today. In this sense, the idea of a self-made person is a myth since it assumes we are unaffected by our bodies, society, culture religion or traditions., 

 

There is so much that goes on in our mind that we don’t notice. It’s when we find ourselves in a crisis that we start asking the questions. and at these times that we find ourselves almost in the same situation of our past unborn bing with an important difference. Now we’re not safe and sheltered from the outside world any longer. But we may again feel as if the world can’t relate to us which forces us to retreat to our own inner world. Yes, we may not be alone but very lonely. You’re aware that insomuch as people may be compassionate or sensitive, they won’t fully understand what is going on in your mind and heart.

For some people, disease and illness can be a moment when you realise how easy it is to lose your strength and wish that you were well again. In those moments of weakness or pain, there is a realisation that you’re alone in your experience - and yet, you know that many others have gone through a similar ordeal. But then, it’s you who are immersed in it. It may be part of our life journey as human beings but because it’s ours, it becomes the more significant and intimate.

But while accepting that all this is part of the life process doesn’t remove the pain, it opens up your heart to the pain of others. This pain need not be the cause of suffering. This doesn’t mean one gives up on life and on getting better but accept the impermanence of things and, yes, rethink your life’s priorities and learn to detach yourself from the past and try to build a better future.

 

CONTINUES...

Endings...

Tomorrow will be the last morning at our summer house. Making the move here on the 1st July was hard. I’ve got to make new arrangements, pack my stuff and start getting used (again) to a different routine. It’s a move our family undertakes every summer. To be honest, when July approaches I know that soon I have to adapt to our summer house with all the good and bad things it brings into my life.

I think that part of me still resists change. Especially when it means sleeping in a room that you know can never be your own. If you live in a place that is only a temporary shelter and, thus, you cannot get yourself to call it a “home”. Then comes the trouble with getting accustomed to a lifestyle that you thought was part of the past. It can be difficult, yes, to push yourself to change and adapt knowing that In a few months you’ll have to unlearn everything and return to your old life.

I suspect that we overlook how much our homes can affect who we are. Of course, it’s not just about the material environment but also about the emotional significance we attach to our homes. For, in reality, much of what makes a home a home and a house a house isn’t the furniture or structure of our residences but the memories that we associate with things and places. In this sense, we endow our homes or houses with qualities that do not exist outside our minds.

As I prepare for my last night in this house, I realise that it’s not only my reluctance to change that was the problem. After all, during my short lifetime, I have had to make changes and adapt to new environments and accept the fact that I may have to be admitted for a number of days at the hospital. In a way, I got to live like a nomad - travelling to our summer house when the weather gets hot and packing for hospital when my body goes on a health strike. Indeed, my reluctance to move was rooted in the days I spent as a child at this house where I had to spend the summer without television or my comforts at home.

In retrospect, it was perhaps in this very house where my oldest brother David died, that I started reflecting on life and own mortality. It was here that I tasted what it’s like to play on the streets with other children around my neighbourhood. It was also here the conservative Catholic priests preaching about sin and how impairment was the product of sin - of human’s disobedience. There was the source of my pain that appeared to erase all the good memories as I wondered whether I had a physical impairment out of divine punishment. It was then that I started to doubt and really ask myself who I was. Put in that light, my childhood negative experiences have helped me to be who I am today.

Yes, this is an ending to a stay that I believed I didn’t want but which now appears I much needed. Tomorrow I should be back at my old home. But I learned a lot after reflecting on my experiences at this summer house. I believed that when it this day would come. I would be free. Yet, there’s a lingering sadness that there is an ending here. On the other hand, I am also reminded of the fact that my life and that of others is very much like a nomadic journey. While I knew when my particular journey will end and start, I still had to prepare for the next trip. The only difference is that life can end at any minute and while it’s good to make plans for the future, we can’t live for the future.

Besides, an ending also marks a new beginning. The beginning of a new life which is in itself always ending and beginning all the time. Perhaps it’s also a good opportunity to start calling my “summer house”, my “summer home”. It’s a change of words, I know, and the building hasn’t changed structurally. But, in some respect, it has changed on a radical level.

In my mind!

A Personal Meditation on the Body and Attachment

The practice of meditation is making me more aware of whom I am. I can say that now I feel more in control of my thoughts and feelings. Indeed, that’s what mindfulness is all about. Taking responsibility for how you react to the world around you. While you can’t help feeling how you feel at times or the way you think – especially in particular situations where you react because you have strong opinions and emotions about a specific topic, if you are aware of what is going on through your mind at that moment, there’s a greater chance you can control your reaction.

Being mindful, I soon realised was not that easy as I thought. It requires a certain degree of self-discipline but it’s worth every effort. I admit that it’s difficult to keep from reacting in the manner you’ve grown used to for years. Yes, there were occasions when I let anger or resentment, for example, get the better of me. That is why I feel it's important for me to find a time to contemplate on my life in the wider context of my human existence. For as I delve deeper into self-awareness, I am realising how much my self is influenced by society and my background. But I was still caught rather off guard when my reflections took me back to my childhood. To the darker times of my early life.

Don't get me wrong - I had a happy childhood. But one thing bothered me. My body – the fact I had a mobility impairment. In truth, my impairment didn’t worry me that much until the age of 5 or 6. By that age, I had adapted to my impairment and found no real problems with the fact I walked differently. However, as I started attending school, I noticed that mostly the adults around me treated me differently –. In time, I understood that people had an issue with the fact I walked perhaps in an odd way.

Slowly but surely, my greatest desire was to walk like the other boys in my class. Since we present ourselves to the world through our bodies, if our bodies are rejected or considered 'inferior', it's inevitable that we also feel rejected as persons. Indeed, my greatest suffering wasn't caused by my impairment but with the fact that society appeared to exclude me as a person. Indeed, as a young boy, I started to believe that I was the problem. I had to change.

The fact that these ideas were reinforced by science, on the one hand, and religion, on the other, left me with a deep sense of guilt. I wanted to improve. I wanted to walk properly. Was I doing enough? Was I praying well? Was I being punished for a sin I did? Was I letting my family and loved ones down? Was I really deep down, a bad boy? All these thoughts fuelled further my desire to walk properly without tiring so much. With all the good intentions, even my family thought that my life would be much better if I could walk like other children. I was made to undergo physiotherapy, attend a faith healing service and, yes, was taken to Lourdes when very young to be 'cured'. I was holy, sinful, broken, deformed, inspirational etc etc All at the same time!!

Now that I thought I had grown out of all this I discover that there's still part of me that thinks I am not good enough because I have an impairment. Make those 2 impairments. And while it's painful to know that I am still affected by the exclusion I felt as a child and my attempts to be like other children, it's also a liberating experience. For that I have become aware of my attachment to an idea of a 'perfectly' working body and while I cannot undo the past, I can let go of this clinging that I realise is still there in my mind.

For, at the end of the day, by hoping against hope that I can walk again, would be hoping for the impossible. It would be like throwing a ball and wishing that it would rise up instead of falling down. It would be like believing that by simply having faith, you can go against the laws of nature. It would be like believing that we will get healthier or stronger as we age. It would be like putting all your energy on an unrealistic goal. While I can't completely discard the possibility of miracles, I believe that we cannot live our lives expecting one to happen.

After all, as I am learning from my meditation, our life often passes us by but we often miss noticing it. We are too absorbed in our own inner minds. We tend to be trapped in a cycle of action and reaction with little time to think about those around us. Until it's too late.

Living a life without contemplating our existence can only guarantee that we don't even get to know who we really are. And, surely, that is the greatest tragedy of all as we remain stuck in a false reality chained to our ignorance, desire and attachment.