Is Virtue Its Own Reward? Reflections on the Real Price and Value of Kindness...

 

L)) In My Own Words: Listen to Part 1 and Part 2 of a podcast episode I recorded where I talk about my experiences and how it changed the way I viewed society and the world around me for the rest of my life. 

"I want to be part of society. However, society must recognise my difference. Unfortunately, in spite of any rhetoric promoting inclusion, those who hold themselves to be the ‘norm’ persist in creating barriers that prevent us from being truly included. Our society , still silently, believes that the non-disabled, Maltese, Caucasian and straight man is the ideal […] this prize has reminded me that I am, and it seems, I will remain the ‘other’. For, even now, what I write may be interpreted to be the angry voice of that young boy who thought he was just like any other boy to discover that he must remain always an outsider."  

 

This week I have been doing some soul searching. I didn’t expect that I would react to this news as I did this time. Perhaps it’s because I’m more in touch with my thoughts and feelings. Indeed, the painful memories of a past long forgotten seemed to have come to haunt me again. I am sorry for being unclear but my thoughts and emotions are unsettled.

Let me take you back to a time when I was a boy of around 10. I was watching the local news in the evening when I heard the name of one of my best friends being mentioned. I admit that I was jealous at first. I was curious to know what had happened. I listen attentively… He was being awarded a prize for kindness… I listened more attentively now. A prize, for what? 

And then , I understand he was being rewarded for ‘helping’ his ‘poor handicapped friend’. Who? Then, it dawned on me as if I was struck by lightning. I was that boy he was ‘helping’. I was the boy described in terms of a ‘needy’ and even ‘helpless’. I felt that it seemed they were talking about another ‘crippled’ boy - not me! I felt betrayed.

At first, I was angry at my supposed ‘friend’. I was angry because I started to suspect that our friendship had been a charade. A ploy to be awarded such a prize or to look nice and popular with others. But, if I think about it, as a child himself, he really had no say in the matter. Undeniably, I did feel betrayed by my friend and while we sort of patched things up, from then on our friendship was never the same.

Why am I telling you this? The truth that this prize for kindness - also known in Maltese as “Premju tat-Tjubija” or “Premju Qalb tad-Deheb)”“ (Golden Heart Award) or “Premju Gwanni XXIII” (Pope John 23rd Award) is an initiative started off by a local NGO called the "Peace Lab”. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the values expressed by this organisation, including the promotion of peace and dialogue between people. However, I believe that the ones who cane up with the idea of awarding a so-called “Prize for Kindness” may not be aware of what impact could have on the children who are being awarded this prize and the child who is ‘being helped’.

I don’t know what my best friend went through then and what he thinks of this experience today. What I can say that it left me with a sense of betrayal and forced me to mistrust others who sought my friendship for a long time. You know it is said that “the road to hell is paved with good intentions’. And I’m sure that my teachers and school had all the good intentions by nominating my friend. But while my friend achieved a certain prestige and recognition, I felt suddenly I was invalidated as a person. And the way the media portrayed me, again, was less than flattering. I was the taker and a burden. I knew that my friend didn’t see our friendship as a one-way thing. Yet, I was forced to question everything. Was I a ‘sacrifice’? 

Yes, it took years before I can say that I regained some trust. However, in spite of the terrible things they said about me. Defining me only in terms of my physical impairment. As if that was my problem. My curse. I have adapted to it didn’t I? Why do you need to deny that my body is part of who I am? Instead, you rob me of any claims to my individual identity. And so, deny my humanity. I know that these are hard words to write. But I can’t shout them out loud because I would gain nothing. For, even if we hate to admit it, such prizes only reinforce our social inequalities not just as disabled people but as human beings. We have to reward a friendship because we still perceive a disabled child to be always ‘less fortunate’. He or she is always taking. As if our friendship wasn’t based on mutual respect and understanding. As if we didn’t share our childhood together.

I want to be part of society. However, society must recognise my difference. Unfortunately, in spite of any rhetoric promoting inclusion, those who hold themselves to be the ‘norm’ persist in creating barriers that prevent us from being included. Our society , still silently, believes that the non-disabled, Maltese, Caucasian and straight man is the ideal. I am sorry to have to say all this but I can’t help feeling that this prize has reminded me that I am, and it seems, I will remain the ‘other’. For, even now, what I write may be interpreted to be the angry voice of that young boy who thought he was just like any other boy to discover that he must remain always an outsider. 

Today, I understand that we are all co-dependent. We all need each other in today’s world. By pretending to be doing charity by simply sending money where, granted, it is needed will not solve the problems of poverty, lack of access, food shortage and the many problems that we all must share responsibility for. Awarding a prize for kindness will always mean that one is, in some way, inferior to another. And, worse, the fact that you’re telling children that a friendship between a disabled and a non-disabled friend is an act of kindness is telling them that such a friendship is a sacrifice where one party is always the less important - the less of value. Have we become so desperate for kindness that we need to reward even ordinary friendships by painting them using our own narratives of heroes and courage? 

Now, my last thoughts. I know that I have used strong language here. But, honestly, I don’t want other children to go through my experience. Yes, I have learned from it as well. Yet, I believe it is diametrically opposed to the principles of inclusion I believe in. A prize for ‘kindness’ is also a misunderstanding of charity. Charity requires us to practice compassion where we help others not out of pity and because we think we are better than them. Compassion and charity are about being with another human being and looking at him or her as your equal. It’s not and should never be a power relationship.

 And what about the idea of rewarding kindness?

“Virtue is its own reward”!

At least, it should be!

 

Related Entries:

Painful Memories of a Prize for Kindness 

> from: Gordon's D-Zone

The True Meaning of Charity

> from: ZoneMind 

 

On Father...

Today, in this part of the world, we celebrate Father’s Day. I wanted to share some reflections on this day. I admit that I believe it’s rather artificial to pretend that this particular day is set apart for fathers. The same can be said of other days similar to this, such as mother’s day or children’s day. The fact that while this day offers me an opportunity to think about how my father has supported me during my life, the fact is that my father was always there. And, thankfully, in spite of being in his early 80s, he is healthier than I am and far stronger than I can ever be.

I can say that my father remains an important person in my life. I have fond memories when I was younger and used to take walks out with my father and discussed a wide range of subjects, my hopes and fears and so on. He also encouraged me to think for myself and not to let others decide on my behalf. He also encouraged me to pursue my constant and, yes, tiring questioning… Why? How? When? Etc. Now, that I think of it, he was a great influence in my life and, most importantly, he gave me the freedom to ask question and think on my own.

Of course, there were many occasions when I rebelled and felt I ‘hated him’ for denying me what I wanted. I really don’t know what came on me when I hit puberty. But, today, I am happy that my dad is still alive and part of my life. We don’t always share the same opinions on certain topics but we share a lot, I believe, in our value system. I cannot speak of experiences where fathers have been absent or, worse, violent towards their partners and children - I can only speak of my own experience. And, yet, I have had other father figures in my life who have helped me in developing my thoughts and identity. To all those who have been a surrogate father, for lack of a better word - I thank you too.

I hope that my father will remain with me in this life for some more years to come. I will surely miss him if he is gone. Yet, I hope to remember him in my heart and in the memories I have of the time we have and are spending together.

You helped make me the man I am today!

Yesterday's Child: A Few Afterthoughts

Since my last entry where I shared a few thoughts following an encounter with whom I called yesterday’s child, I find that there are a lot of emotions and feelings that I still need to process. I admit, I’m still unsure from where in my heart did these feelings flow. 

 

On one hand, this child took me back to my own childhood. Perhaps I was nostalgic as I was reminded of a past that I could never recapture. To realise how foolish it was for me,at the time, to become a grown up. To become an adult would mean, I believed, being able to live my life as I pleased. How foolish I was for wanting to grow up so soon and miss out on that precious time that childhood is.

 

I also felt a certain fear that I may never become a father. Or, if I did, I wouldn’t be able to do all the things fathers do with their children. I am not particularly keen on sports either - which would be an issue if I had a boy or girl who liked sports. As yesterday’s child did. I know that there are things which, I hope, I would be able to impart on my children. But, still, there’s still that lingering thought that I would never live to an ideal.

 

On the other hand, in retrospect, these thoughts are just thoughts and don’t have any real basis. Rather, they may help me live better today. For, I may not be able to recapture my childhood but I can commit myself to cherish the present and try to live the now to the full. The present moment remains the only one we can be in and the only time we have a choice. In this sense, my concerns for the future are, in a way, only the cause of unnecessary pain. For, I should accept whatever life offers and do my best. For whether I have a child or not, whether s/he will accept me and so on remain questions that can’t be answered or will never be answered at all.

 

This life of mine, I realise, is the only one I’m sure of. It’s precious because, I know, all lives will end. I can’t live forever. And, as I remember what yesterday’s child taught me, it’s important for us to reach out to those around us and to every other person living in this world. I have failed in this and still fail. But I know that I need to be compassionate to others. Not just for the sake of others but for my own sake.

 

I thank all those who told me that they liked reading my last entry on yesterday’s child. I admit, I was flattered. But, later, I felt a certain feeling of guilt. Had I used the child in my account for my own ends? In a way, I did. I did like many others who help others for the sole reason to receive praise. I might have fallen to an arrogance of those who help others only to be praised and photographed. People, I’ve met myself, who make a living exploiting those who are going through injustice and inequalities to appear as saviours - when they’re in fact, in some way, abusing the dignity of others for personal gain.

 

I hope, at least, that my post didn’t go so far. But, then again, I am aware that - without knowing or wanting - we may be doing the same thing. We may be inflicting needless suffering on those who are victims of injustice and inequality. We may waste food and water capriciously when people in some parts of the world are dying of hunger or thirst. We may take our homes for granted, when there are millions of people homeless or living in poor housing conditions. We may take our loved ones for granted, when there are people out there who have just lost their loved ones because of war or natural disasters.

 

But, of course, we are helpless. We can’t save the whole world. I feel bad because I know that I may never meet yesterday’s child again. Nor do I know if I can help in any way if I did meet this child. Yet, I feel a kind of guilt for not being able to do more. Yet, I have to be realistic and focus on what I can achieve today. To return to the beginning of this entry, it’s important for me to focus on the present. This doesn’t mean that I ignore the future and fail to plan ahead. But, inasmuch as it’s wise to set out plans for the future, the present is the one moment we have that is truly guaranteed. 

 

So, how can I help? How can you help? I feel that even if I may be unable to help yesterday’s child, there are a lot of people I meet on an everyday basis - some I know, others not. It’s there that I can make a difference. For one may aspire to go abroad to help others experiencing poverty and all that which is good. But, on the other hand,one can also do a lot here where you live. You can change things in the way you relate to the others around you. You can practice compassion today. You can take the time to understand others here. You can relate to others as equals now.

 

The only thing I can offer you here are  my words. I know that what I have written might not make any difference in your life or the life of others. I don’t expect it too. But all I hope is that somewhere, someone will stop and reflect on what I wrote. For life passes quickly and we may miss to appreciate the moment we’re given. A moment that, like our childhood, is lost forever.

Through the Eyes of a Child...

To yesterday's child:

I thank you for not judging me because I appeared different. For recognising my difference and, yet, not holding it against me.

I know that you might have been fascinated by my wheelchair and wanted, as you did, to drive it around. Actually, to drive me around…

I appreciate the little time we spent together. The short time we spent getting to learn something about each other.

Perhaps, then, you filled within me a need of a little brother or sister, whom, you know, will seek you when they’re afraid of the dark and trust you will reassure them and take away their fears.

You might have also stirred deep in my heart, a paternal instinct that desires to care and protect all whom may feel unsure about life. Frightened of a a life which sometimes appears so new and unknown. Especially when facing moments of sadness and doubt following a disappointment or an ugly event you still can't express or have the words to describe..

I am not sure whether I gave you anything in return. I know that I was tired and maybe I could have shared more of myself to you.

I am neither sure what impression I left on you. Or whether I could have seemed distant. If so, I am sorry.

For sure, you have renewed my commitment to look beyond the illusion of the self.

A self so preoccupied in defending its hollow existence that it finds no place for others.

A self so absorbed in the lies it tells itself that it is ignorant of its unreality.

And the reality of life?

A life made up of joys and sorrows, life and death, love and hate.

A life where we share a common experience of humanity.

Born into a world and a life we don't choose - to live on through all the good and bad, and, ultimately, to die without knowing what there is beyond with any degree of certainty.

This life. Precious and unique. And, yet, a life we take so for granted.

We experience dissatisfaction as we seek refuge in a material life that is, in itself, impermanence and empty.

There's no happiness...

Until we are ready to recognise our vulnerability not as a sign of weakness or servile submission but as a matter of fact. That we were never meant to be divided amongst ourselves and accept we all need the help and support of those around us - whoever we are..

A humility that forces us to look at at each other on the same level because we are the same human beings. Similarly prone to the ravages of time and decay of matter. .

Birth, ill health, old age and death. No one can escape them. But we can make our life and the life of others worthwhile if we're ready to be more compassionate and less judgmental. Less accusatory. Less ready to fit people into boxes when we come to relate to them on a personal, human, level.


And, yes! It had to be you, a young child who reminded me of the need to open my heart to the other. To open who I am also to my own awareness.

Only with a motivation to learn from our experiences.

Dear yesterday's child,

Since we never had the time to say good bye, I would like to tell you that I will cherish our short encounter for as long as my memory will serve me..

I wish you all the peace and happiness for the future and for the present - which remains the more important as all futures depend on it..

I assure you that you have given me more than I can ever give back.

Thanks.

More than the Sum of my Parts

I don’t know what happened since I turned 30. The way I view the world and, I dare say, who I am, has undergone profound changes. I could try to explain what I’m feeling right now but I have noticed the change. I seem to have found something that was long lost. It’s like I have met an old friend. It feels as if I ham back home. I don’t even know where you’re reading this. I guess I posted this it on my two main blogs. But, then, these blogs only reflect an aspect of my identity. Or, really, my ideas about who I am. For while in ZoneMind, I express my discovery of the richness of the Buddhist tradition and try to capture my experience as I embark on a lifelong journey of self-discovery and on my practice of meditation.. And, on my other blog, the D-Zone, I express my point of view as a disabled activist.

But, now, I wonder about whether people reading just one blog will get a whole picture of who I am. Indeed, we tend to know people in terms of the positions they hold, the jobs they perform, their income, their religion or in terms of the group they represent. The risk is that by seeing people in terms of categories and concepts,we miss the whole picture. We miss to acknowledge their humanity and their dignity. By setting them in a language of difference, we have the tendency to stereotype them and by doing so, defile their dignity.

Until now, I presented who I am to the world in many ways. To my friends, I don’t behave the same way I would do with my family or with my parents for that matter. But, am I being less authentic when I take up these different, sometimes inconsistent, identities?

Yes and no. For, I believe that we must adapt to the particular audience or person we are relating to. You wouldn’t speak to your boss in the same way you would talk to your ten year old nephew.

But, at the same time, I believe that there’s a certain authenticity that you need to respect and cultivate. I have come to a hard time in my life where I’m at the crossroads.

I am happy with my discovery of a forgotten sense of belonging to a wider humanity. Yet, I recognise that I have chosen to define myself in definite terms - even if my intention was to claim my belonging to the world, I realise that I built more walls and barriers.

Truly, I am confused because I am not sure what to do next. Yet, I have a clarity of purpose.

I have the location but no map to guide me.

I am lost but feel found. I ask myself questions about my current purpose and whether I can ever find the completeness I feel inside fully present on the outside.

I continue to meditate. I try to cultivate compassion and genuine love. I also fail and fail. But I want to keep trying. I don’t feel that any other choice would be as fulfilling as that. I know that I will never achieve a state of uninterrupted happiness in this life but happiness I will strive for. I have defined myself as a ‘disabled person’ here and elsewhere. I remain disabled in the sense that society still raises barriers of structure and attitude that shout at me: Keep Out! Yet, I confess, I did erect my own barriers by using my difference as a weapon to emphasise my separateness.

When, in truth, my aim was the opposite. I wanted to belong. But, in the process, I sought to belong for the wrong reasons. I spent part of my childhood with a need to define myself in terms of intelligence and IQ. Perhaps I wanted to escape my disappointment for being labelled as different, as other, because a mobility problem. Because I walked differently. Because I looked, in some way, strange. Yes, I wanted to belong. But I thought I could feel special if I set myself apart, better and higher than all the rest!

Have I committed the same mistake when I grew attached to a new identity, however positive? Am I today, by remaining in the social position I held before, being inauthentic to my core being? Is it time for a change? I think that if I want to be completely honest with myself, I have to say yes…

Yes!

Indeed, I might Have , unknowingly, fragmented my identity in neatly separate boxes, wen I felt inside that I was, as I had discovered in Gestalt and Buddhism, more than the sum of my parts? Is change necessary? I feel I have a commitment to who I am. I need to reclaim my full humanity. I need to manifest my humanity.

I need to reach out to the world, because we are interconnected to each other. We are separate but united. We are divided yet joined. We are unique yet the same. We remain human.

Born of a mother, prone to illness and old age. We can die at any moment.

I have to be what I was always meant to be.

This might be the most important purpose of my life.

To be authentic to my being.

To be fully human.

To be open to the world.

To be who I am!

Back to the Beginnings

Today, I just realised that it’s been over a year now since I started this blog, I called ZoneMind>. My first entry appeared on 7th May 2011 and I gave it the title Beginnings. I admit that I wasn’t quite sure what how this blog would evolve but, in time, as I attempted to deal with the emptiness and dissatisfaction that preoccupied me during that period, it took a life of its own. My engagement with Buddhist practice has opened my mind to a reality that, in many aspects, challenged my old world view I thought I had mastered.

I am now at a point where I’m unsure of where to go from here. I can’t explain it using conventional ways. Language wouldn’t be able to capture what I’ve been feeling in the last few days. But, it’s only through language that I can convey this feeling and state of being. But, yet, it defies convention and I don’t understand it myself. I have changed so much that I feel like another person. Or, rather, it’s like returning to a state of authentic being that I had a child. A state of mind beyond the restrictions of language and thought. I am more open to the world in a wonderful way that can be overwhelming. I am joyful and sad a…t the same time. Joyful because I am once again aware of the beauty of life and the unique miracle of human existence. Yet, I’m saddened when I witness a world that is obsessed with the idea of power, position and control. A struggle to preserve a self that is impermanent and finite.

But, as I become more mindful of the dark side of human nature, I catch glimpses of this same pride and arrogance of human beings in myself. I must admit to that. Even in my journey of self-exploration, I still suffer afflictive emotions. I still get angry. I still can hate or get jealous. I can still feel self-righteous and indulge in vain pride. But now, it’s different. I’m more aware that, like anyone else, I am very far from practicing real compassion. Yet, now I’m more aware of what’s happening inside, I have a choice - either to react or else to act with care and patience. I am free to act with a certain confidence and patience.

I can find happiness in the sadness of pain and suffering that affects us all as human beings. I can be authentic and genuine only if I acknowledge that many of the problems I have with relating to people and how people relate to me and each other are rooted in an ignorance. An ignorance, not in the sense of stupidity, but in the sense of not knowing or being unaware of the reality we live in.

The reality in which our life as human beings is finite and impermanent. A reality where our experience arises out of a relationship between the senses, material reality and living beings. We don’t make our bodies or form our minds on our own. For this, we need the world, other people and our senses. We need to recognise that fact. I have now appreciated this fact because it affirms a certain truth hidden deep within my being. A truth I had felt as a child when I used to watch the waves of the Mediterranean sea coming up to the beach when I used to swim at the fishing village of Marsaxlokk, Malta.

There was a harmony of nature. The sun in the blue sky. An occasional floating cloud shaped in ways I would imagine. The clean fresh air. The pleasant breeze of a soft summer wind. I was then, one with the sea, with the sand, one with those who swam in the same sea I sweat. During those moments, I felt connected to everything - free from the chains of language or conceptions. I don’t know why I should remember this. But, I guess, that was then, and things have changed. I grew up. My body is no longer that active, my eyes not as sharp and I am burdened by the knowledge of the world. Inasmuch as such knowledge is important, it isn’t reality. It’s only a reflection but not reality.

I feel I cannot go on living my life as I was before, Now that my mind is more clear, I feel I’m still confined to a life that has lost its shine. It appears that I’ve outgrown my ambitions and plans for the future. I wasted too much time seeking happiness when this can only be found within and not outside. It is then only that I can dare to go beyond where I do not know. But, before I make any radical changes in my life, I need to take some time to reflect and ponder the real purpose of my life. Yes, I may escape and leave things as they are and that would be easy. But then, I will have to live a life that I didn’t really want. A life that is dissonant with what I feel I should do.

I need to reflect. I need time.

I hope to return soon.

But, for now, I need to know.

A Forgotten Childhood?

As a young boy, I was curious to know about how the world worked. I also wanted to know what life was all about. I wanted to know to gain a kind of closure and some answers to the question of why I had an impairment, when other boys my age were considered “normal” and “healthy”. I just didn’t understand why the God the priests praised so much on the altar who was so kind and loving had punished me from birth. Surely, I had done something really awful. I was a bad child of God and had to accept my fate without question. Indeed, I needed to redeem myself. If I think about it, my impairment back then was not as severe as it is today. True, I couldn’t bend my legs straight and my gait, which was described by a doctor in one medical report was a “scissor’s gait” was close enough to reality. I could still walk and run at the time but still it bothered me that in spite of what I did, I was different in eyes of others.

With all good intentions, even those close to me wanted me to become “normal” and within a culture very influenced by religious sentimentality, I was prayed on and loved ones hoped for a “miracle” to happen. I was happy as a child but I was also unhappy. For whatever I did and any efforts I made I couldn’t become “normal”. Yes, that! What was more troubling was that I identified on some level with Satan. Hadn’t be also rejected from God and cast away to an eternal torment. But, unlike Satan, I was determined to return in God’s good books. But at around 8, I started experiencing the reality outside of the safety of the home. I met new people and different children. Many looked at me through their presumptions about my physical impairment and told me that I “inspired” them and given that troubling reassurance that I was bearing the “cross of Christ”. When I felt no different than other kids my age. But, in a way, I was.

The fact was that I was made to think. I dared to doubt. And, while a spiritual revolution was taking place in my mind, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t articulate it in a way others could understand it. I sought refuge in trying to find answers beyond me. I wanted to knoW WHY. wHY HAD MY BROTHER DIED BEFORE I COULD GET TO KNOW HIM? Why I was born this way? Why was God angry at me? Was I a saint walking on the footsteps of Christ or a sinner bearing the torment of a banished hell angel? Yes, I was happy then. But there was always that foreknowing that this life will end. And then what will become of me? And was there a God any way? Or were we at the mercy of a God who was like those Greek gods I read in some of my books that toyed around with human BEINGS AS IF THEY WERE PAWNS ON CHESS BOARD?

I THOUGHT AND THOUGHT. DURING THOSE COLD WINTER NIGHTS WHEN I LOOKED WITH AWE AT THE DARK SKY TINTED WITH SILVER STARS. THE SAME STARS THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS HAD STUDIED A THOUSAND YEARS AGO. THE SAME STARS THAT THE BIBLE SAYS HERALDED THE BIRTH OF THE JEWISH MESSIAH. THE SAME STARS THAT GUIDED SO MANY SEAFARERS. I was connected then with the past I shared with my ancestors. The same stars that were there at the beginning of the cosmos. The same stars but not yet the same. These are still stars that may not all be there today as their light takes millions of years to reach us. Stars are a connection with the past that is no longer there.

For a young boy, these thoughts were overwhelming. So many questions. So few answers. Many of which were incomplete or beyond my understanding. And yet, nobody in my life seemed to be asking why? People who claimed they were “people of faith” appeared to be interested in winning a place in heaven and saving their lives rather than living the spirit of love and compassion and reflecting on their lives. They weren’t asking about the wonders of this universe we find ourselves in. They weren’t asking themselves why they were the lucky ones to live on Earth in the first place.

But, yes, they were interested in making more money and searching for happiness in things that never lasted. Even their aspiration to gain heaven was motivated by a hope to experience pleasure and freedom from pain. Bt they forgot that heaven was now. What happens in the future is beyond our control. It’s only now that we can change the world. It’s only now that we can change ourselves. And, yes, I gradually became the adult I feared to become as a child. True, I tended to more open to different people because, I myself, had been judged simply for being different. Yet, many of those early attachments that I hoped to never acquire, I did acquire. So, I can’t really judge.

I may choose to go deeper into my past but I am restricted by time and space.I just wanted to share these memories as I keep growing in self-awareness. As I said in early posts, I am now on a journey of self-discovery. I am engaging more in Buddhist practice. I feel a sense of peace and happiness that I can’t really express using language. But, it’s there and it’s changing my life. For the better. I don’t expect for you to understand and I certainly don’t write to convert anyone to Buddhism and to take up a daily practice of meditation and mindfulness. I am just writing after reflecting on my own experience of life. At that, my experience of life is very limited when compared to the what one can experience in the longest of human lifetimes. It is also infinitesimal if you compare it to the age of the cosmos. But, yet, as insignificant as it might be, this life is really the only thing I have.

I end this entry here hoping. Hoping that tomorrow will come. That I will be still alive tomorrow. That the Earth will be here tomorrow. That those around me are still there with me. But there’s always the possibility of change. A change that isn’t necessarily bad but, at times, also necessary if we are to continue living. Yet, tomorrow remains only a hope and whether you’re a believer or non-believer, we all hold an irrational faith in a tomorrow.

In Praise of Practice

I’ve progressed a lot since I started my journey into Buddhism. Yes, I 

learned a lot over these months. At the same time, the more I learn about Buddhism, the greater I realise how much I have to learn. Even if I feel genuinely connected to the practices of Buddhism such as meditation and mindfulness, I still make mistakes. 

 

However, I can’t be unrealistic and expect to be perfect in my practice. As long as I’m still alive, I will falter one time and more. In fact, I will probably keep committing mistakes as long as I live. Yet, I have embraced the Buddhist point of view because it resonates with me on a deeper level. I really can’t really explain this but I rejoice in discovering Buddhist philosophy.

 

To be completely honest, I was always interested in learning more about science and religion when I was a young boy. I also felt there was something more in life than just the material existence. And, being ascribed a physical impairment and, later, learning of my dead brother did help me reflect on my own mortality and impermanence  of life.

 

  In addition, back then, I had a passion for astronomy. I felt humbled and somehow saddened by the thought that we were the only ones who inhabited this vast universe. At least, that’s what I was expected to believe. But, still, I doubted this was really true but sounded rather arrogant and an anthropocentric (human-centred) view. Of course, I would not know what that word really meant at such a young age.

 

My life, I guess, was one characterised by the need to know and a need to understand. I had the opportunity to travel a lot with my family when I was a child. It was then I first encountered different cultures and people having a different faith than the one I was brought up in (Roman Catholicism). I realised that I was no that different from these people but somehow persisted to think of myself as better than they were.

 

But when I gained more experiences of the real world, I became painfully aware that because of my impairment, people did judge me before they got to know me. Yes, it was an unpleasant experience but it did help me look beyond the prejudices and assumptions people made about those who were different than them.

 

How does my Buddhist practice have to do with all this?

 

The truth of the matter is that thanks to a daily practice of meditation and mindfulness, I feel connected to my origins - to my authentic being. I try to be more careful on how I relate with others and more aware of my thoughts and actions. I realise that if I claim to believe that I should practice compassion, my commitment should be reflected in my actions as well.

 

For, holding on to principles without putting them into practice is pointless and a betrayal of our authentic being. In short, principles without practice are just not enough! 

 

I close this post with a quote from the HH the 14th Dalai Lama, which I have come to cherish when I read it for the first time:

 

“If you want to be happy- practice compassion,

If you want others to be happy - practice compassion.”

HH The 14th Dalai Lama (b. 1935) 

A Day of Rest?

First, a haiku:

 

Just a  day of rest

 

I hoped for but never got.

 

Perhaps tomorrow?

 

Now, a few thoughts…

 

I didn’t mean this entry to be long. I am tired and need to rest. Indeed, I’m planning to take time off work tomorrow and forget, for a day, about work or life in general. I plan to rest. I made this promise to myself so many times. But there’s always something that comes up. And I keep  postponing. 

 

In our fast moving world, we often find that we have less time to think and reflect. With all its progress, I find that technology does encourage us to be reactive rather than reflective. Instead of being witness to life, we are becoming passive and impulsive. It’s not all bad but I do feel that people in general are losing touch with the real world but are escaping into their virtual spaces.

 

Since I committed myself to a regular practice of meditation, I feel calmer and more   focused. I regained that childlike fascination with the world I thought I had forever lost. I do still revert   to the “adult mode” at times but I try to be more aware and, restrain myself from cynicism (with varied success). However, I believe that I’ve wasted a lot of my life pursuing that which wasn’t really important. Of course, I don’t expect any radical changes but these, indeed, may take some time.

 

There are so many values that I have claimed to hold true but didn’t entirely live up to. There are valid reasons for that. But you may call them excuses. I have claimed to be honest. to be kind. To be less judgmental. But I did falter over the years. I could blame external factors and, at times, these have been valid reasons for my actions. But we may hold on beliefs and world views that are essentially good and positive but persist in living a life that oftentimes contradicts the core beliefs that we claim to hold. 

 

So we have fundamentalists who restrict their world view to the extent that they and members of their chosen few are living rightly. Of course, I don’t expect you’re a fundamentalist reading this blog. But we do share aspects of fundamentalist belief in our life. We do sometimes hold to a “fundamentalism” based on science, philosophy and ideology. As a consequence,  we close ourselves to our own worlds and to our own values. Good as they may be, any value system that puts itself over all else and which excludes any others indiscriminately can be destructive

 

Nobody can change who we are - even  if they may break our spirits. It takes time and lots of practice but it’s necessary that we take the time to practice. To undertake our commitment to change. To take responsibility over our own lives. I’m not saying that it’s easy or that things will turn out well quickly. Indeed, life might get worse but, at the end of the day, we can be open and active in our pursuit of happiness. This, even to me, would have sounded unrealistic and just talk. But, then, I think it’s worth to try become a better person who lives in the present. One person who hasn’t forgotten to wonder at the world and the universe with child’s eyes that are supported by wisdom that grows from knowledge, experience and reflection.

 

On the end of another day, I am exhausted but at peace as the night approaches and the sky darkens. But, then again, there is the moon and the stars that offer hope that even in our darkest hours, there is still hope - however faint and weak. There is hope that fills our darkest skies  into masterpieces of the cosmos. But, how often, have we stopped and looked at the night sky? With my vision, I admit it’s difficult to make out the stars and perhaps I may catch a glimpse of the moon. But I recall the times in the late hours of the night looking at the night sky in awe. For, I really felt that I was nothing compared to what was out there. That our planet Earth was like a speck of sand lost in a boundless ocean. The memories are still there somewhere. But I am only now that I’m rediscovering the beauty of all that surrounds us. And while there were many nights we try to forget or intoxicate ourselves for the sake of fun and entertainment, we just miss to witness all this.

 

Day by day, I commit myself to grow in awareness. I want to be a more active participant in the world. I want to be more open to others. I will fail. Yet, every step forward is progress. Now it’s really time to sleep.  I will take more  time to rest tomorrow. In fact, I hope to rest for the whole day. Rest is important. If not for anything else, it will give me time to reflect, relax and recharge my mind and body. It’s a day when I hope to get more in touch with the world and to grow in my self-knowledge.

 

A hope…

 

Perhaps tomorrow will really be a day when I rest...

Star Gazer: Commentary

In my last post, I composed the first haiku for this blog. The haiku entitled “Star Gazer” sought to capture that sense of awe and wonder that a young boy feels on looking at the night sky. It also suggests that the boy feels alone and insignificant in relation to the universe. This haiku emerged out of a meditation on our position in the universe. It’s also semi-autobiographical, as I still have a memory of me as a young boy observing the night sky as an amateur astronomer. Here, I don’t intend to engage into any extensive analysis but I aim this commentary to encourage thought and reflection on the meaning that can be inferred from this haiku.

Let’s look at the first line:

Stars light up the night

This line introduces the setting for the haiku. If you consider the nature of stars and how they appear to us on Earth, you might be forgiven for thinking that they are small specks of light. But, our knowledge about the stars has meant that we know that stars are massive bodies that reside many light years away. In this reality, are we that great as a human race? Shouldn’t we be more humble when we’re so small and powerless in comparison to the strong forces that we find in the universe?

a boy stares above in awe

This second line evokes a sense of wonder expressed particularly by children. Until we grow older, we can still look at the world around us with fresh eyes. Unfortunately, when we grow older, we grow attached to a rigid outlook and lose the ability of perceiving life as it is. In a sense,we build barriers between us and separate people from us on the basis of divergent characteristics - thus failing to recognize our shared humanity and co-dependence.]]

If we're all alone

The last line is structured as if it was a question but it is framed as a statement. There is a certain feeling of uncertainty and doubt as we contemplate our existence in relation to the universe. The point here is that, in spite of the immensity of the universe, which should increase the likelihood of alien life, we are still alone - even if there is also the possibility of an alien life, it seems that there is no other one out there. But, in truth, civilisations have implicitly believed in what are, at first glance, not alien life forms. Of course, I’m talking about God, angels and other divine beings. While we don’t usually regard these beings, if they exist, as alien, they fulfil the non-Earthly attributes of the idea of an alien. While it would be considered heretical to call the divine aliens, the reality is that if these beings exist, then there’s no reason why they can’t be considered aliens. I could argue that point no end I guess but as we come to end of my commentary, there is an equally seriousness about the aloneness of the human species. While I am no stranger to feeling like an outsider, everyone of us risks becoming an alien or stranger to ourselves and to others.

Conclusion

There’s no doubt that the universe compels us to ask a lot of questions about our existence, origins and position in the cosmos. I feel humbled and somewhat lucky for being here, of being alive. Like that boy who used to spend nights observing the night sky, I still wonder why I am here today. What is my purpose here? I still ask what will become of me after my life ends. And it will end. It’s when I think of all the things that I cannot understand and will probably never will in this lifetime that I regret the many times I took life for granted. For whether you believe or not, there’s no doubt that our lives are unique. And about what happens to us after death, well perhaps we will also become a star lighting the night sky. But now, I will do my best to live a good life.

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.

Learning from Childhood

When I watch world news, I am often left speechless. There appears to be so much trouble and conflict in the world. People fighting, people being killed. People seeking a better life, people crushed by their oppressive leaders. People facing natural disasters, people polluting the world and increasing global warming. We're all familiar with the stories that are reported everyday in our homes, on our mobile phones, and on the Internet.

I wonder about the state of the world. How things have changed since I was younger and everything was so simple. I was idealistic then, believing that there could be world peace. Believing that somehow there was a solution to every problem in the world. But, now, I really don't know any more whether the adult world was as great as I thought it would be. I ask myself, where are the choices and freedom I thought I would have. Where is the liberty to do what I put my mind to do? Has all this been a false idea that I adopted on seeing how adults appeared to get their own way and, who ultimately, wanted to be right even when they were not.

However, it's a fact that children are the ones who suffer the consequences of our adult actions when there are conflicts, wars and other crisis. We involve children in our matters even if they have not chosen to take part. We involve children in issues that they don't understand or are explained. We involve children because we assume that their opinions do not matter. We forget that we were children once ourselves. I don't know why I chose to look at the global situation with a focus on children.

It could be because that, during one of my meditations, I was taken back to a dream I had as a child. That of a world where it didn't matter who you were and how you looked, you were part of something bigger. In harmony with nature that we're now losing. And, while this vision was idealistic and somewhat naive, I do wish thad the walls that separate us between one and another are broken down. However, these walls don't exist in the real world but in our mind which means that we must be the ones to bring them down. To quote Gandhi: "We must be the change we want to see in the world".

Death of Religion

Last time I posted, I left you with a question some of us may have asked ourselves. Even perhaps as young children trying to get to grips with the death of a dear pet or, somewhat more troubling to us, the death of a relative or close family member. I admit that I was too young to remember the death of my brother. But the fact that I never got to know him as a person has prompted me to ask the question why do we have to die on many occasions in the past. Not that I'm in any way a necrophile, or a lover of death, but that there are times when I feel that I need to retreat and examine my life.

There is much truth in the Socratic statement positing that the unexamined life is not worth living. Indeed, I have gone through times when I was absorbed in my own bubble, thinking I knew all that I needed to know and tied to a rigid view of the world. You probably know the name of this period in life. Adolescence.! It's a great tine when you can afford to be idealistic, perfectionistic in my case and very preoccupied with fitting in. Drop in some arrogance and a good dose of hard headedness and you have it: the teenage mindset. Yes, I was perhaps being too hard on my past self for it was a time when I could dream without much concern about any practical consideration.

I don't want this blog to become an autobiography. But the point here that when we are young, we tend to believe that we will live forever. Then again, I knew that wasn't the case and people die. For no reason and at no defined time. And while death saddens us, the realization that our lives are temporal and finite should make us appreciate the unique opportunity we have to be alive. Mind you, there have been dark moments in my life when I felt that the pain caused by sickness and poor health or, equally painful, the sense of abandonment and isolation that I felt then, I would rather have avoided.

On the other hand, this doesn't mean that they were devoid of any value. They did help me wake up to the fact that I had fallen into a vortex of cynicism and apathy. I was going through this life of mine without purpose. However, when I got close to death on the summer of 1998, I knew that my life had hit the bottom and started sinking. I started to ask myself whether my life would end soon. I was unsure of what to expect on the other side. My Catholic upbringing taught me about heaven and hell, Jesus and the plan for salvation. Or damnation!

Of course, I knew that Christianity went beyond simply heaven and hell. Indeed, Christian faith like Judaism before it, manifested a human hope for a better today and tomorrow, even after our lives are apparently ended. Unfortunately, even if I knew that the basic principles of both Judaism and Christianity were the same - to bring love and compassion - history is replete by use of violence to impose dogma and belief on another people. This, however, is not unique to Christianity but has happened in the case of Islam and Hinduism in history. It is also happening today.

But how do religions based on love and compassion end up causing so much death and destruction?