Where were you on September 11?

Today, the world remembers the terrible events that took place in New York. More exactly, we are invited to spare a minute for the many innocent lives lost to the terrorist acts of a terrorist organisation we now know is called Al Qaeda. I have shared my thoughts and reflections on this tragic event every year on this blog since I launched it. Undoubtedly, the events which took place on September 11 changed the course of our futures for ever. Yet, now I am a bit reluctant to write because enough has been said and written that any word I add appears superfluous and, indeed, a way to draw praise.

On the other hand, in spite of risking to go with the flow, I feel that I can’t just let the day pass by without reflecting on the implications September 11 had on the world and how we relate to each other. In addition, I was lucky enough to have gone on top of the World Trade Centre (WTC) when I was visiting my relatives who live in the US. In fact, when I heard the news, my thoughts turned to my relatives abroad and, for a minute, it seemed I relived the times I had been one day there as a tourist.

Moreover, since the WTC, one of the buildings hit by the planes hijacked by the suicide bombers was also place where people from around the world could work together, it can be argued that the attacks against that particular building was an attack on the whole world. Obviously, it’s natural that after people learned of the people behind the attack, many hearts were hardened and the minds were poisoned by hate and resentment of the other, the “enemy”.

The fact that we would learn that Islamic extremists were behind all this would also fuel the growth of anti-Islamic sentiments still evident across the world. What should be a religion of peace which shared with its monotheist sisters - Judaism and Christianity - continued to transform itself, in people’s minds - to a religion of hate and violence. Thus, enforcing the divisions that already existed between peoples. A division that would erode any hope of peaceful dialogue and peaceful communication as the majority of the West chose to employ the very means of war and violence it had so heavily deplored.

Yet, the truth is that those who were and who are responsible for acts of violence and atrocities aren’t Muslims but, rather, using Islam to achieve their political ambitions and to eradicate all those they perceive to b a threat to their position and power. Yet, military action, as we have seen in the past, rarely achieves its aims. The more our response is that of violence and the more we cling to our feelings of hatred and resentment, the more we fortify the image of the “other” as the “enemy”. Thus, we may fail to understand that, even behind the most atrocious human acts, there’s a reason. Irrational, yes, but it is there.

For everyone justly spoke up against the attacks of September 11 but, I suspect, only a few of us really tried to understand why all this happened. While those leading the immoral cause of Islamism or to force the whole world to convert to Islam according to Al Qaeda, may be motivated by power and control, the people supporting and helping them may really believe that they have suffered too much misery when under Western rule that the only solution is to bear arms and fight.

We can’t forget our responsibility as our Western powers can’t be said to have been totally innocent and didn’t or aren’t still exploiting the natural resources of nations of the majority world* to build their own technology and infrastructure. Have we forgotten the many innocent casualties of random attacks/? In no way, does this justify violent and terrorist acts. However, we must be aware that we are also responsible for certain realities present in other nations simply because we value the land instead of the people who inhabit it. We’re ready to poison water supplies, cut down trees and keeping in power those we think we can trust not to oppose our authority.

Of course, there is also a lot of good we do, as Western nations, in the world to alleviate suffering. And wile it’s debatable whether September 11 could have been prevented, it’s true that it was a result, in part, of a collective arrogance and indifference in the ways we often act in countries where we think of people living there as somewhat beneath us.

What the world has gone through on September 11 should be a reminder of the urgent importance of keeping our channels of communication open. To listen and engage in peaceful dialogue and negotiations when we can’t agree. To open our heart and mind and truly listen to what the “other” is saying. To remember the victims on September 11 burt to be prepared to let go of all our feelings of enmity and distrust. To be prepared to work together as we remain human beings who share a lot in common. Humans who share in our hopes and dreams, who have our fears and nightmares, and who want, ultimately to live a happy life.

Yes, I remember September 11. Yet, my thoughts also go out to Syria and to others who are dying right now because of famine and conflict. t. Thankfully, it was decided that, at present, no military intervention will be carried out against Syria but the path of dialogue and negotiation will be now pursued. Have prayers been answered? Or, more likely, the voices of peace have been heard and taken note of. Favouring one side over the other - who both claim they’re protecting the people - would have meant certain disaster and more bloodshed and acts of violence from both sides.

I conclude by asking the question which is also the title of this entry:

“Where were you before September 11?”

This isn’t a question to know where you were then. It’s rather a question that is intended to provoke you to think about how you viewed the world before September 11.

Have you thought about such a horrible thing happening?

Did you support peace and justice or did you go on life without caring?

Did you choose not to care about people who you thought were far away and, thus, insignificant?

Don’t worry if you answered yes to all these questions.

The truth is that, if anything, September 11 made us aware of the fact that we are connected with each other more than we thought. Even if it did harden some hearts, it should have awakened us to the fact that we depend on each other. We can’t afford to be indifferent to the injustices against others. We can’t ignore the environmental impact we’re having on our planet as all of us depend on it.

To truly honour those who died or would die as a consequence of the attacks on September 11, we must do our part in ensuring that our world remains a peaceful place that fosters an environment of mutual respect and cooperation.

One good place to start is within our own social circle and community.

But first we must cultivate the seeds of peace and compassion in our own hearts and minds!

I prefer to use the term "majority world" as opposed to "developing world" or "less developed" countries as the latter terms are making a value judgement about other nations and people assuming they are somewhat inferior. "Majority world" also reflects that the majority of the human population lives there. The opposite is true if I use the term "minority world".

Opening to The Intimacy of the Soul*

I come to write again after taking time to consider where my life is leading to. I admit, I am still confused about the direction I want to follow in life. I regret that the things that appeared to be of absolute importance to my happiness have become perhaps less important to me at this point in my life. This doesn’t mean that my disability activism, for example, is no longer important to me or that I don’t value the principles of inclusion I believed in before. Principles I dedicated lots of time and energy to promote. Rather, I feel that my calling is elsewhere.

I can understand if only a few readers might relate to my situation. It’s as if, more than ever, I feel a sense of emptiness. Of insignificance. It’s not because there’s emptiness within me. It’s because I realise that, as a human being, I am insignificant when compared to the extend of the cosmos. A cosmos that we can only barely understand with our scientific advances. A cosmos, that we may never be able to really understand.

In this state of silent contemplation, I only find myself confused and lost in an ocean that engulfs my whole being. An ocean which I want to escape from and be rescued from.

Yet, an ocean which I must cross to discover the place I need to be if I want to find more lasting peace and happiness. The refuge of the soul*. The cosmos that appears to mock my pretentious humanity is really drawing me to an authentic understanding of my real nothingness. Like the ocean, I am faced by my sense of nakedness and shame of having to declare my vulnerability and essential nothingness.

I was a child who wanted to know more. Indeed, I was thirsty for answers of why I was here. I admit that the death of my brother David a few months after my birth appears to have profoundly affected me. I realise this fact the more I develop my practice of meditation. It’s as if my need to make sense of my life - or why I am here - has become more important to me. More than anything else, I feel that I must face the challenge posed by an infinite ocean and the nakedness that the eternal cosmos reveals. For, in contrast to all this immensity, I am an impermanent nothing.


I once aspired to become a famous writer in my life. Indeed, this, I admit, was one of the motivations I had to write as a child. To perhaps join in the ranks of those many authors I found on the library shelves (I could reach). Yet, I wrote not just out of vanity but because, the more I wrote, the greater I felt free. There were moments when I wrote continuously, others when I stopped writing for days on end. It was both painful and cathartic to write. It was hard to have to put into words what I felt inside as what I wrote may have sounded brilliant but it never captured the complexity of my thoughts. And, even as I write

today, I am sure that what I finish will always be incomplete and dissatisfying. Hopefully, it is closer to the truth of my being but words and language are only mirrors of a far richer reality we may call the “soul”*. I am aware that while we may place a lot of weight on the words we use or the symbols we communicate, these don’t exist in their own right. A sentence, a book, or any form of expression, will mean another thing in another time or socio-cultural context. Yet, even if we may chose silence, it has also its meaning. However, at least, silence provides us with an opportunity to listen and contemplate on the significance of our human existence.

It may help us to free ourselves from the shackles of ignorance and open that little the intimacy within. 



I know that my life may be misinterpreted as a tragedy. Yes, it appears I lost a lot in the course of these 31 years I’ve been here on the planet. I lost my brother, David, before I could know him. I gradually lost my ability to walk independently, I lost a significant amount of vision and I am just slowly regaining my health and strength. Yet, my life isn’t exceptionally tragic to any degree. Defining me in those terms failsto acknowledge my humanity. I have only experienced more in life than usual, yes, but this doesn’t guarantee that my experience automatically brought with it any wisdom or exceptional insight.

 

A belief that is often implied whenever I talk to a few “religious” strangers. Indeed, I, myself, may have ben deluded by that demon of pride. A pride that seeks out to make one feel that one has the understanding and has the right outlook on life. A pride that refuses to listen and thus be unresponsive or hostile to other views. Views, which may be indeed wrong, but which must be taken notice of for hearts and minds to perhaps change and be more open.

These words would have been outrightly dismissed by my past self. But, these words are the ones I needed to hear.



I am a human being. I am disabled by a society that still considers people, like me, who have impairments, lives apart. We are not heroes, saints, villains, pitiful beings, abnormal, differently-abled or even “special”. Yet, I realise that while I recall all I believe in, I know there’s a deeper longing within that compels me to go beyond my work as a disability activist. For, while this cause is worthwhile and to be commended, I feel a strong need to go beyond impairment and focus more on the wider context of being human.

The fact is that since I grew in my understanding of Buddhism, thanks to the works of HH Dalai Lama and other scholars, I realise how important it is, for me, to reach beyond my self to others. Not because the experiences I have gone through life have made me any wiser. Not that I am special in any way. But because I feel that I must seek the source of my emptiness. To find refuge in knowing that all I have is impermanent and all will end, including my being. To approach this realisation, not with despair or despondency, but with mindful compassion and appreciation of every breath we take.

In doing so, we can wake up and release ourselves from the spell of pride.A point of awareness where we can see the afflictions borne out of hate, greed and desire melt into nothingness. A point where, even if we’re not totally free from our delusions, we are ready to open our heart to others and to all that is around us.
>


I feel that unless I fully open my mind and heart to this greater need and purpose, there will always be that sadness in my heart. A dissatisfaction that, whatever I did in my future, all will be overshadowed by the knowing that I didn’t pursue my deepest yearning. That I put aside my call to compassion and to contemplate the purpose of my existence because I wanted to live a relatively comfortable life.



In doing that, I would have violated the intimacy of my soul*! 





* In the context of this article, the meaning of the word “soul” is not to be understood in terms of any religious interpretation. In this sense, the soul may be taken to simply mean conscious awareness in the present - in light of the fact that the “soul” or “self” is, in itself, not a static property of the mind and may indeed cannot be said to have a distinct location in the body but rather arises out of the interplay of the brain and the nervous system.

A Meditation on Forgetting

 

 

 

 

A Confession

I must confess that I have forgotten  to write an entry on the occasion of HH Dalai Lama which I started doing when I started this site. I have already written extensively about how indebted I am to HH 14th Dalai Lama for opening my mind to a fresh understanding of life and reality. I find that I feel a bit angry and rather ashamed of having forgotten the man who helped e to embark on the journey where I can better understand who I am and my place in this world.

 

In a way, this journey of self-discovery which I have been writing about since 2011 began as a child. But then, my curiosity to know about HH Dalai Lama and to understand Buddhism didn’t take me far. Even my brief exploration of world religions that I carried out as I was writing my book Cosmos also didn’t help me that much as I only read sources which tended to hold that Buddhism was a nihilistic tradition.
I find that the past remains an important part of who we are. It’s true that it’s not good to dwell on the past but it would be wrong that we completely forget it. For the past, whether we like it or not, has affected and affects who we are today.

 

Yes, I forgot that on the 6th JUly of 1935, a young boy called Tenzin Gyatso would be declared to be the re-incarnation of his predecessor Thubten Gyatso. Much has been written, of course, on the Dalai Lama’s early days but I feel That I have been affected but the way he speaks and expresses his thoughts with a rare sincerity and with a genuine interest in the welfare of all humankind and all sentient beings. Yet, as he admits himself, he is just a man like any other and he doesn’t want people to regard him as a god-figure. In particular, there are three things that have struck me as he talks about Buddhism. Precepts that, you might have noticed, I constantly refer to when writing here and which I use as guides in other writing that is not related to Buddhism as such.

 

My Guiding Principles

These principles, simply put are:

Dependent arising. The teaching that who we are is the product of countless causes and conditions that have made our life possible.

 

co-dependence e. The reality that who we are and what we have depends on other factors that are beyond our control. These range from the physical world - material objects, nature, living things and weather conditions; to the relations we have with other people.

 

Impermanence. The fact that nothing lasts forever. Everything in the universe is changing, including the universe itself. And, all all of this will one time end.

The Impermanence of Forgetting

 

In this sense, we can see forgetting as the manifestation of the impermanence of memory. Yet, we may forget other things in life that are as important as memory is to remember who we are. I feel that, due to strong emotions, that arose from a dark place within. As a result, I started forgetting what was important in my life. I was forgetting the values I believed in. Perhaps I was under the illusion that I was better than others or that I had a rightful claim to be arrogant because I felt that I was in the right and that all I said can't and shouldn't be contradicted because it was absolute - when, in fact, right as it may have been, it was relative. Yes, I may have been in the right at times but my approach was also wrong.

It is often the case that because we feel we have found our truth, we forget that we remain always subjective in our judgments and fail to consider how our words and actions might affect other people.

I am not saying that we do wrong if we make our point or feel that we must take action. Yet, even if we are right and correct, the way we assert our convictions can easily undermine their importance. It’s a choice whether to pursue the path of violence or the path of non-violence. The former may appear to be stronger and the more effective. Yet, while the path of violence may get more immediate results, it only reacts to the effect of the real cause of our affliction and may also obscure the real causes of the affliction.

 

Healing the Past: To Forgive, Not Forget…

I am sorry that I forgot to remember that on July 6, 1935, Tenzin Gyatso was born. But, I feel greater sorrow that while my writing has been largely unaffected by past afflictions, I cano’t say the same about some words and actions that I have carried out in an attempt to reclaim what I felt was unfairly taken away from me.

 

But, in doing so, I became a slave to this past and never really freed myself.

The only way we have to heal the past is to forgive all the injustice perpetrated against us as we can’t change the past. Yet, while we should not forget our past as it has shaped who we are, we should strive to forgiveness ensures that we don’t remain slaves to our past and be willing to be more open to trusting others guided by the wisdom of our past injustices.

 

We should strive to cultivate our compassion as it is the only guarantee of our own happiness and that of others.
In HH the 14th Dalai Lama’s own words:

 

“If you want to be happy… practice compassion…

 

If you want others to be happy… practice compassion…”

 

I wish belated wishes to HH Dalai Lama.

 

Thank you very very much!

 

Older Entries

2011: Celebrating HH the 14th Dalai Lama's 76th Birthday
2012: Tomorrow ... It's the 6th July? So, It's HH 14th Dalai Lama's 77th birthday!!!

ZoneMind: A Day of Shame - Identity, Indifference & Humanity (Full Series)

Part 1: Hollow Identities?

> ORIGINAL SOURCE

This July was a time I felt that I had to re-evaluate who I was and to reflect on my position on this Earth and wonder once again on where I belonged. I decided to leave FaceBookas I was growing concerned that, in spite of all the good things it offered me, I found myself too dependent on it and sometimes felt I had to project an identity that pleased the public which I felt more and more to be somewhat oppressive, encouraging a culture of impulsive reactions which didn’t promote finding time for reflection or cultivate personal growth. I felt that sometimes I had to hold back too much parts of who I was and perhaps the reason I finally left was to be found in my past.

Yes, there was another reason I decided to leave. Perhaps I realised that being on FaceBook was my way of validating who I was because I still felt like an outsider. I still felt without acknowledging it, that I wanted to be accepted and taken for who I was or what I believed in. But, then, I always ran the risk of posting something for the sake of it. I might have felt that the media had once robbed me of my right to claim an identity as an individual when I was still a child. And, yes, while I thought I got over it, the scars in my mind were still there and still bleeding.

Indeed, I found that the painful memories I had when I was still a disabled boy were still there hidden in my mind. I realised that these ‘demons’ of the past which I thought I conquered were still acting in the background. I cannot say that this was a positive experience. It was not. I made that clear in my entry and recording found on a recent post entitled “Is Virtue Its Own Reward”. For, even if it was a difficult time in my childhood, I admit that it also taught me about myself and about how society viewed me.

Many times, we often judge things in terms of good or bad.

However, life is more of an experience that is in-between.

And there are many experiences in my life which may be judged as bad or terrible. The fact is that while our experiences may be a source of pain and anger, sometimes they are inevitable and necessary to learn and grow up. When I could still walk, I remember that there were many times I fell from my bicycle when I was first learning how to ride a bike. But, eventually, I had mastered the skill of riding a bike. Yes, I know that today I won’t be able to write a regular bike at least but I did benefit from learning that skill the time I could do it.

In the same way, the pain I felt as a disabled child when I realised that to the world I was just a one-dimensional boy ‘afflicted’ by impairment and a ‘burden’ and ‘sacrifice’ to society and to my best friend was when I lost my balance on the ‘bicycle’ of life and face the fact that no matter who I was or what I did, I will also risk being judge by my impairments.

From that day on, I felt I could relate to the countless times I found myself ill-at-ease when I listened to so-called grown ups making fun of people who were different than them, whether they were of a different faith, whether they were black, whether they were women or whether they were gay.

Unfortunately, I do confess that at times I did join in to make some witty remark but, I found that I preferred to remain silent when the words I heard felt wrong and unkind. But my silence was not that better. I didn’t know I had a choice. However, the experiences I had when I realised that for society I was to be an outsider with people arrogantly thinking that they can tell my story and distort my life to the extent it sounded more like melodrama.

I just wasn’t that boy they had constructed out of their assumptions and misconceptions.

It was from then on that I must have started realising I was an outsider. Society wasn’t interested in who I really was, it preferred to create n image for the sake of increasing sales and popularity. I was like a Joseph Merrick whose physical differences were the main reason he drew the interest of the people of his time.

 

Part 2: an Indifferent Ignorance

 > ORIGINAL SOURCE  

 

I felt that I could relate to my earlier discomfort when I heard people saying things about individuals they never met or didn’t intend to mix with. As I read about the struggle of black Americans in the US for civil rights, I felt that Martin Luther King Junior was also talking about an experience not dissimilar to my own.

As I read about Gandhi’s protests against the British colonisers, I felt that, in some way, I was colonised by a non-disabled ideology that placed people like me who had an impairment amongst the lowest classes of society, sustaining the belief that impairment was an inevitable reality and that I must accept my burden and not expect to be an equal. Of course, it would be much later in my 20s that I would be introduced to the idea of the social model of disability that appeared to given me a voice and the words to articulate my experiences.

For, like racism, sexism, homophobia or any other forms of intolerance that existed about people who may be different than us, The fact I had an impairment wasn’t the problem in itself. 

Indeed, one major problem was the attitude people had about impairment which was often seen to define my whole identity - even erasing any other aspects of my humanity.

However, unlike other forms of discrimination, society has also proved to reject my body whenever I was denied access to places or to resources simply because my body didn’t conform to the imaginary ‘norm’. Despite this fact, attitude played an important role on my feeling of being an outsider.

Like the black men and women in 50s America, I didn’t have equal rights in so many areas. Like the colonised Indian, what I owned and my history was always inferior to that of the unreal norm. Like the

African, to the West, I had no history and my impairment remained a curse or the effect of nature gone wrong.  Thus, my mind

and body appeared to be a defiance to the Graeco-Roman ideals of perfection. The only means that we all have to relate with the world suddenly seemed to have been imbued with features and characteristics that were never there but were only created by our limiting minds. 

This is why I felt I was an outsider as a boy. This is why I feel like an outsider sometimes even  today. 

I felt the need to speak about the injustices that I witnessed this week in an episode entitled Lives Should Never Be Used As Meanswhich I posted on my podcast channel . The inhumanity in the government’s attempt to deport a group of Somali migrants back to Libya. While Malta has limited resources to provide shelter to more migrants, I felt that this attempt at sending a message to the EU that Malta needed more support was morally deplorable on so many levels. For, given that Libya remains unstable and that the detention centres at Libya offer very poor human conditions while guards there don’t seem to have any respect for human rights,, 

if our government hadn’t been stopped, these immigrants would have certainly suffered torture, rape and death. And I don’t like to call them ‘immigrants’ but language is often constraining. They are, first and foremost, people - men, women and children. They are my brothers and sisters. They all have their own identities, likes and dislikes. They feel the same feelings and emotions that I feel. Like them, I can get sick and I will die. We share the world with each other.

Part 3: Humanity Denied!

> ORIGINAL  SOURCE

Before starting this last entry, I wish to share a few verses inspired from  the words that are attributed toMartin Niemöller as I can see the danger in arguments and action that seem to imply that our human rights can be negotiated or, worse, put to the majority vote. I am painfully aware that, as a disabled person, many (if not all) of the rights I and other disabled people, would have prevailed and it's only because of some pioneers that made sure our rights should be legally recognised that we can say that we have more opportunities today - even if there's more to be done to gain real equality for disabled people. But I digress, so here are the adapted version of  Martin Niemöller's speech foe our local reality as I am currently perceiving it:: 

Now, they were coming for the migrants,

And we said nothing...

Then they came for those who were Muslims...

And we said nothing.

Then they robbed once who identified themselves as LGBT of their rights...

And we said nothing...

Then they attacked the environmentalists...

And as nature was dying...

Our mouths were still shut...

They would also make ones protecting human rights of minorities and other discriminated social groups appear to be unpatriotic...

And we still said nothing.

Then, when they came after us...

Well, no one was  there to defend us!

I don’t want to sound too pessimistic but unless we don't speak together against injustice perpetrated on others, we have lost our claim to our own rights. Unless we come together and really together on issues concerning human rights, then all expressions of solidarity and talks social inclusion remain simply empty rhetoric. When people in my own country forget their humanity, these people seeking refuge become a group of people robbed of an identity. At the same time, we choose to impose our own prejudice and assumptions on them turning them to monsters and even savages. When we look at them, there is a danger that we project our own fears onto them.Perhaps we fear of losing our own identity. Rejecting them would mean that we cling to the delusion that we’re far better than them or more ‘civilised’ than them. We might have believed that they were poor people suffering from famine and starvation. We might still have an image of those children with swollen stomachs. We might have pitied them. We might have thought of Africans as savages without a history or tradition. Like the Africans of that distorted Africa found in, for example, Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.

In many ways, I feel that I must speak up against any attempt to reduce the rights of these people we call immigrants. I feel that I am also an outsider. In spite of any nice things said about disabled people, there are still many who harbour deep inside a certain resentment and fear of becoming like us - which is likely to happen as they age. I am, like the immigrant, an outsider - the other. And being the ‘other’ makes me a threat to the social order. For, in fully accepting me and people who are different, society would have to face the reality that we are more like each other than we are different. And while our differences matter, they are not fundamental to who we are. The day when we even considered sending people back to most certain torture, humiliation and death can’t be ever justified.

It was a day of shame for us and for Malta when we were close to to remain indifferent to our fellow human beings for the sake of making a political point.

While we may come to be forgiven for these actions, I believe we must make sure that we don’t forget. Even if the public has a short memory and the media is always looking for the next controversy, we can’t afford to forget. For forgetting would mean that next time we may actually have blood on our hands.

To end this long entry, I wish to express my last thoughts in the Japanese haiku form:

Yes, we must forgive...

But I refuse to forget...

This moment of shame.

End of series!

ABOUT THIS ENTRY

 This series originally appeared as a three-part series of entries published on my blogZoneMind between July 12 and July 14., 2013. This version has been slightly edited. If you enjoyed this entry, you can follow some of my activity on Twitter@gordonGT. 

> Feel free to share this post but kindly attribute this source;.

A Day of Shame: Identity, Indifference and Humanity - Part 3

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

 

Part 3: Humanity Denied!

Before starting this last entry, I wish to share a few verses inspired from the words that are attributed to Martin Niemöller as I can see the danger in arguments and action that seem to imply that our human rights can be negotiated or, worse, put to the majority vote. I am painfully aware that, as a disabled person, many (if not all) of the rights I and other disabled people, would have prevailed and it's only because of some pioneers that made sure our rights should be legally recognised that we can say that we have more opportunities today - even if there's more to be done to gain real equality for disabled people. But I digress, so here are the adapted version of Martin Niemöller's speech foe our local reality as I am currently perceiving it::

 

Now, they were coming for the migrants,

And we said nothing...


Then they came for those who were Muslims...

And we said nothing.

Then they robbed once who identified themselves as LGBT of their rights...

And we said nothing...

Then they attacked the environmentalists...

And as nature was dying...

Our mouths were still shut...

They would also make ones protecting human rights of minorities and other discriminated groups appear to be unpatriotic...

And we still said nothing.

Then, when they came after us...

No one was  there to defend us!

I don’t want to sound too pessimistic but unless we don't speak together against injustice perpetrated on others, we have lost our claim to our own rights. Unless we come together and really together on issues concerning human rights, then all expressions of solidarity and talks social inclusion remain simply empty rhetoric.

When people in my own country forget their humanity, these people seeking refuge become a group of people robbed of an identity. At the same time, we choose to impose our own prejudice and assumptions on them turning them to monsters and even savages. When we look at them, there is a danger that we project our own fears onto them.

Perhaps we fear of losing our own identity. Rejecting them would mean that we cling to the delusion that we’re far better than them or more ‘civilised’ than them. We might have believed that they were poor people suffering from famine and starvation. We might still have an image of those children with swollen stomachs. We might have pitied them. We might have thought of Africans as savages without a history or tradition. Like the Africans of that distorted Africa found in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.

In many ways, I feel that I must speak up against any attempt to reduce the rights of these people we call immigrants. I feel that I am also an outsider. In spite of any nice things said about disabled people, there are still many who harbour deep inside a certain resentment and fear of becoming like us - which is likely to happen as they age. I am, like the immigrant, an outsider - the other. And being the ‘other’ makes me a threat to the social order. For, in fully accepting me and people who are different, society would have to face the reality that we are more like each other than we are different. And while our differences matter, they are not fundamental to who we are. The day when we even considered sending people back to most certain torture, humiliation and death can’t be ever justified.

It was a day of shame for us and for Malta when we were close to to remain indifferent to our fellow human beings for the sake of making a political point.

While we may come to be forgiven for these actions, I believe we must make sure that we don’t forget. Even if the public has a short memory and the media is always looking for the next controversy, we can’t afford to forget. For forgetting would mean that next time we may actually have blood on our hands.

My last thoughts in haiku:

Yes, we must forgive...

But I refuse to forget...

This moment of shame.

End of series!

READ THE WHOLE SERIES:
PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

A Day of Shame: Identity, Indifference and Humanity - Part 2

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 1 - PART 2 - PART 

Part 2: an Indifferent Ignorance 

I felt that I could relate to my earlier discomfort when I heard people saying things about individuals they never met or didn’t intend to mix with. As I read about the struggle of black Americans in the US for civil rights, I felt that Martin Luther King Junior was also talking about an experience not dissimilar to my own.

 

As I read about Gandhi’s protests against the British colonisers, I felt that, in some way, I was colonised by a non-disabled ideology that placed people like me who had an impairment amongst the lowest classes of society, sustaining the belief that impairment was an inevitable reality and that I must accept my burden and not expect to be an equal. Of course, it would be much later in my 20s that I would be introduced to the idea of the social model of disability that appeared to given me a voice and the words to articulate my experiences.

For, like racism, sexism, homophobia or any other forms of intolerance that existed about people who may be different than us, The fact I had an impairment wasn’t the problem in itself. Indeed, one major problem was the attitude people had about impairment which was often seen to define my whole identity - even erasing any other aspects of my humanity. However, unlike other forms of discrimination, society has also proved to reject my body whenever I was denied access to places or to resources simply because my body didn’t conform to the imaginary ‘norm’. Despite this fact, attitude played an important role on my feeling of being an outsider. Like the black men and women in 50s America, I didn’t have equal rights in so many areas. Like the colonised Indian, what I owned and my history was always inferior to that of the unreal norm. I was and still feel an outsider.

This is why I felt the need to speak about the injustices that I witnessed this week in an episode entitled Lives Should Never Be Used As Means which I posted on my podcast channel . The inhumanity in the government’s attempt to deport a group of Somali migrants back to Libya. While Malta has limited resources to provide shelter to more migrants, I felt that this attempt at sending a message to the EU that Malta needed more support was morally deplorable on so many levels. For, given that Libya remains unstable and that the detention centres at Libya offer very poor human conditions while guards there don’t seem to have any respect for human rights,, if our government hadn’t been stopped, these immigrants would have certainly suffered torture, rape and death. And I don’t like to call them ‘immigrants’ but language is often constraining. They are, first and foremost, people - men, women and children. They are my brothers and sisters. They all have their own identities, likes and dislikes. They feel the same feelings and emotions that I feel. Like them, I can get sick and I will die. We share the world with each other.

CONTINUED…

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

A Day of Shame: Identity, Indifference and Humanity - Part 1

Part 1: Hollow Identities?

This July was a time I felt that I had to re-evaluate who I was and to reflect on my position on this Earth and wonder once again on where I belonged. I decided to leave FaceBook as I was growing concerned that, in spite of all the good things it offered me, I found myself too dependent on it and sometimes felt I had to project an identity that pleased the public which I felt more and more to be somewhat oppressive, encouraging a culture of impulsive reactions which didn’t promote finding time for reflection or cultivate personal growth. I felt that sometimes I had to hold back too much parts of who I was and perhaps the reason I finally left was to be found in my past.

Yes, there was another reason I decided to leave. Perhaps I realised that being on FaceBook was my way of validating who I was because I still felt like an outsider. I still felt without acknowledging it, that I wanted to be accepted and taken for who I was or what I believed in. But, then, I always ran the risk of posting something for the sake of it. I might have felt that the media had once robbed me of my right to claim an identity as an individual when I was still a child. And, yes, while I thought I got over it, the scars in my mind were still there and still bleeding.

Indeed, I found that the painful memories I had when I was still a disabled boy were still there hidden in my mind. I realised that these ‘demons’ of the past which I thought I conquered were still acting in the background. I cannot say that this was a positive experience. It was not. I made that clear in my entry and recording found on a recent post entitled “Is Virtue Its Own Reward”. For, even if it was a difficult time in my childhood, I admit that it also taught me about myself and about how society viewed me.

Many times, we often judge things in terms of good or bad.

However, life is more of an experience that is in-between. And there are many experiences in my life which may be judged as bad or terrible. The fact is that while our experiences may be a source of pain and anger, sometimes they are inevitable and necessary to learn and grow up. When I could still walk, I remember that there were many times I fell from my bicycle when I was first learning how to ride a bike. But, eventually, I had mastered the skill of riding a bike. Yes, I know that today I won’t be able to write a regular bike at least but I did benefit from learning that skill the time I could do it.

In the same way, the pain I felt as a disabled child when I realised that to the world I was just a one-dimensional boy ‘afflicted’ by impairment and a ‘burden’ and ‘sacrifice’ to society and to my best friend was when I lost my balance on the ‘bicycle’ of life and face the fact that no matter who I was or what I did, I will also risk being judge by my impairments.

From that day on, I felt I could relate to the countless times I found myself ill-at-ease when I listened to so-called grown ups making fun of people who were different than them, whether they were of a different faith, whether they were black, whether they were women or whether they were gay.

Unfortunately, I do confess that at times I did join in to make some witty remark but, at times, I remained silent. But my silence was not that better. I didn’t know I had a choice. However, the experiences I had when I realised that for society I was to be an outsider with people arrogantly thinking that they can tell my story and distort my life to the extent it sounded more like melodrama.

I just wasn’t that boy they had constructed out of their assumptions and misconceptions.

It was from then on that I must have started realising I was an outsider. Society wasn’t interested in who I really was, it preferred to create an image for the sake of increasing sales and popularity. I was like a Joseph Merrick whose physical differences were the only reason he drew the interest of the people of his time.

CONTINUED…

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

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 

 

An Elusive Silence

I find it difficult to find moments of complete silence in today's wold. I remember that as a child, I could find a place at home or when I'm outside when there's almost complete silence, interrupted by the pleasant song of birds and possibly the sounds of crickets in the summer months.

I don't want to sound too nostalgic here. But, the fact that as I grow in my Buddhist practice of meditation, the more I've come to appreciate the value of stillness and silence. Unfortunately, if the silence I am seeking depended on the environment or the people around me, then returning to a past where there were times when the world seems to rest and simply become silent for just a few hours.

Today,, we are literally bombarded by a cacophony of noises, music that is sometimes too loud to bear, the sounds emanating from our mobile phones and email programmes informing us that we received a request of some kind, or a reply and so on. Requests that distract our attention from the world around us. Tools that are meant to enhance our communication but which, at times, isolate us from those who are around us.

I wonder if my own need to keep in touch with the virtual world is but an escape from facing the immediate world. Or, if this as sometimes an attempt to escape from a silence that might draw my attention to parts of who I am that I rather not explore. Parts of me that I would rather be unaware of. Painful or disturbing memories of a past that I wanted to forget. But, then what does this say about me?

If we are seeking more a life where we need to be connected with the world from the moment we wake up to the moment we are getting to sleep, what does this say about us?

The reality is that, unless we can travel to a remote part of the world where technology hasn't caught up, the reality of those who are living today in most parts of the minority world and small parts of the majority world, remains one where silence is a rarity or an impossibility. However, amidst this noisy world we have created, I still find time when I can find a silence.

It's not a silence where's there's no sound such as that found in the vacuum of space. It's the silence I find as I become aware of my breathing. As I stop moving and just rest my body and let my thoughts pass by. It's a silence where I know that I have a time when I only need to listen to the world around me and not necessarily react or respond. It's simply stopping and noticing the sounds around me, the vision I still have and be aware of the sensations of my body.

This is the silence that I may aspire to. For, even if we use our mind and body on a daily basis, we often take all this for granted. That is, of course, until we become ill or are in pain.

It is recognising the uniqueness of our present experience that we can actually enjoy life and discover that silence that provides us with the space to be who we truly are!

A Secular Easter, An Empty Tomb and a Dead God: A Long Easter Meditation

What to write?

 

I have been struggling to gather my thoughts and ideas before daring to write this entry. I had planned to have something ready on Easter Sunday which would made this entry topical and current. Today, a week has already passed since Easter Sunday and believers and non-believers have probably forgotten the festivities and returned back to their old routines when they went back to their regular routines. A thing  I usually did myself in the past.

 

I admit that my hesitation to tackle the subject of Easter may be due to the fact that I don’t see myself as a Roman Catholic. I cannot hide the fact that, even if as a child, I always felt not quite comfortable with aspects of Catholicism because, as I liked to learn on my own, the majority of Christians had only a superficial understanding of their faith. As a child, I was prone to reason out some of the teachings as interpreted by the priests of my time. I knew deep inside that a morality based on fear of hell was a very shallow one. But, that possibility of being punished by God was too terrible to contemplate. Naturally, heaven was where I wanted to be after I died.

 

I was both shocked and disturbed when I started reading parts of the Old Testament your average Christian wouldn’t have read in their life time. For instance, Leviticus, which, to my horror, forbade anyone who had an impairment of any sort to offer anything to God for that person was unworthy to be in God’s sight. And, references to impairment as sin in the New Testament started making sense. Indeed, Jesus tried to address the irrationality of such beliefs. But, I can attest that I did feel awkward among the fervently religious. At times to be called saintly, and in the silence of the hearts, some suspected I was the result of sin. Images of the devil have also suggested impairment of some sort to me. While I denied my impairment for many years. 

 

Yet, deep down, I knew that the logical conclusion of what Leviticus had been saying was that I was unworthy of God. In that sense, I had some sympathy with the devil when he was expelled from heaven. Not that I wanted, in any way, to become God. But, rather, because I could identify of being rejected and excluded because I was physically different. Yes, the devil’s sin was that of pride but he was always represented as the ‘other’. I could relate to that feeling of otherness and rejection. Indeed, as I rekindled my passion for Eastern philosophy and Buddhism, in particular, it was I found an old childhood friend. I once again started meditating but this time wanted to further cultivate my understanding of Buddhist thought. 

 

I don’t see myself as a Roman Catholic any more but I am grateful for the teachings I got from Christianity. In a sense, I am practicing a philosophy beyond the confines of religion. I have no problem with the belief in God and also find no problem with those who don’t believe in God. However, I’m saddened when supposedly mature adults debate on whether God exists or not as their lives depended on it.

 

After all,  it’s a fact that God exists. But, here, I must explain some more.

 

Does God exist?

 

God exists. However, whether God exists as an entity, if at all, is debatable. Who is God? Even this question cannot be answered unless one is affiliated with a particular religion. In monotheism, there is a personal God but you’ll find no such God in some Eastern traditions. There are belief systems where there are plenty of gods and some were there are even good and evil gods. In Buddhism, the question of God is not really relevant. Mind you, Buddhism doesn’t deny God or accept God. Its belief system is compatible, in many ways, with science. Everything, it is observed, is a product of causes and conditions. Nothing can be its own creation. Everything is co-created or dependently arising. Thus, one can only say that Buddhism - at least Tibetan Buddhism - is a non-theistic tradition. I subscribe to that world view today.

 

New atheists and believers may go discussing whether God exists till the end of time. It might be a form of spending their time and energy and even to express themselves. However, if the issue cannot be resolved in our lifetime, why does it have to be an issue that divides us? Do we really believe that living without God means living without morality or a sense of ethics? Is a fear of punishment and desire to reach heaven the proper foundation for any morality? I think not. A crusade against religion is, in my view, not unlike a religious crusade. 

 

And this is really not what Jesus died for. His teachings invite us not to judge others and to be wise. Attainment of heaven or hell are not things that we should await because we believed or simply did good deeds. Indeed, the idea that we must live for a life beyond defies the main teachings of Jesus. I don’t think he wanted us to become so proud of our religion that, consciously or unconsciously, close our  hearts and minds to other points of  view. It’s in the intention that we perform deeds that makes them good or bad. Indeed, if one performs an act of kindness to appear kind and good to others, 

 

That act of kindness, great as it might be, is its own reward. The motivation isn’t compassion but ambition. The beliefs that Jesus tried to instil into his largely superstitious and dogmatic community were one that encouraged them to open up to the other, even to your enemies. It encouraged his community to break away to a rigid adherence to the letter of the law and instead embrace the spirit of the law. And I suspect that Jesus didn’t want a religion that was fixated on his crucifixion and resurrection. Indeed, the authentic pursuit of a follower of Jesus, indeed, would be not to follow him as you would be venerating a god but follow his teachings in your daily living. To be honest with yourself and make sure you are ready to open your awareness to your inner self and to the other. 

 

Faith, in my view, is not about believing in holy objects or even in miracles, Faith is in fully accepting and taking refuge in the knowledge, if you may, that you don’t know and that many things you will never know. To accept, as it is also rational, that you should live for the present because it is in the present that one can find true happiness. Happiness is not a location in time, happiness is is in the present. Only there can you be truly happy.

 

A Secular Easter?

 

Many Christians hold Easter to be the only reason for their beliefs. Indeed, the resurrection of Christ from the dead and his triumph over sin and evil is the most important event in the Christian calendar. It’s more important than Christmas as without Easter, or the resurrection, there would be no reason to celebrate the birth of Christ. I respect the belief in the resurrection of Christ. However, based on my background and what I have written earlier, I find that Easter has become more of a matter of tradition, for the believer and non-believer alike. Is this a bad thing? Of course, the meaning of Easter is radically different for the true believer in the resurrection and the non-believer. But then, as I try to reconcile these worlds, which, in a way, represent the younger me and the older me, can we find a common ground?

 

A fact that many remain unaware of is that Easter time was always significant  for different civilisations, and many pagan ones too. Indeed, the word ‘Easter’ itself derives from the name of an Assyrian deity, known in old Greek cults as Astarte, the goddess of sex and fertility. However, this belief in Astarte is also there because of another important event in early agriculturally based society. Easter time was also the beginning of Spring, when life can be renewed and food could be harvested after the long and cold  Winter period.

 

It is here that I dare find a way to bring the non-believer and believer closer together. For the resurrection of Christ is, for all intents and purposes, a renewal. A triumph of life over death. The transformation of the old and dead into the new and living. It’s our annual journey from the cold winter to the gentle spring in our lives. It’s an opportunity to grow and shed the old persons we were and find that we are more than we thought we are. In fact, we discover that the very act of defining ourselves is limiting who we are as whole human beings. 

 

Indeed, many times, we tend to judge things in terms of good or bad, without considering that things are not good or bad in themselves, rather what one learns from these experiences that makes a difference. The Buddha invites us to be masters of our own selves. Jesus invites us to take responsibility over our own lives. They both challenge us to be true to ourselves and not necessarily follow the law to conform and live a lie to remain safe and comfortable. This invitation is often missed and while I don’t claim to be right, I can say that, for the time being, I think  this way. My experiences have reinforced this conviction. I thought my visual impairment was the worse thing that could happen in my life, yet today it has opened my eyes to a richer life. 

 

Being a physically impaired boy was never easy, but I learned to be more open and receptive to people that others considered to be outcasts or ‘not of their kind’. It also made me to truly  understand what is meant to be ‘alienated’ in the sense that one becomes detached from his own society - similar to the worker in Marx who finds that his relation with what he manufactures is irreversibly broken and he simply becomes an object, not that different from the machine he’s using. It is that sense of being denied an individual identity that I identified with. Of being stripped of my claim to humanity itself. 

 

Today, I can say that my engagement with Buddhism has complemented the old Gordon and opened my heart and mind to a  new me who is not ashamed to assert that I accept my limitations as a human being but also know that I have strengths as well. I am also ready to admit that much of what I am today is not of my own making. Even this sense of identity and person who is writing this is, in a way, an illusion. An illusion that arises  out of an interplay between my brain and the senses. The world I live in is, thus, not as I perceive it to be. Although there’s no denying that my world from my perspective appears to be real. Yet, considering  that my sense of reality is dependent on so many factors, there’s room for doubt even about who is doing the writing. And it is here that I might look at Easter.

 

An  Empty Tomb:

 

The accounts about the resurrection of Jesus were written years after they occurred. Does that make them less credible? In a way, it does for the events taking place are a product of eye witness accounts. In a court, such evidence would be highly contestable. But does that make them of less value if they can’t be verified? Perhaps I’ve been asking the wrong questions all along. And considering the possibility of human error inn eyewitness accounts remains a stumbling block if one wants solid facts. But, then, can we ask another question. Is there another truth that we may be missing out on if we either accept or reject the resurrection?

 

I think  yes. For the resurrection, real or symbolic, represents a renewal and a transformation. The old is still there but the old is not there any more. In other words, we believe we are the same children who just grew up. But, even factually, our bodies have lost much of its old cells today. That is why we have grown. In my case, grown a little more. Yet, even our brains have changed and, thus, even our minds. In this sense, we are constantly dying and being born. To stop this process of renewal and growth is what death is. It is in this context that we can take the image of the empty tomb from a more secular point of view.

 

While we may fear to think about the tomb because it reminds us of our own impermanence and mortality, Jesus’ account redefines the symbol of the ‘tomb’ from an inevitable finality to a place of possibility. Indeed, our beings are empty of inherent existence, Buddhism says. This is not a bad thing because emptiness here must be taken to mean nothingness but is a liberation of sorts, an invitation to go beyond the limitations imposed on us by society and by our own thoughts. Indeed, the emptiness is an invitation to renew who we are. A plant will not grow where there are many plants that are taking all the nutrients and minerals. Only emptiness can make us whole by freeing us from our attachment to things that do not exist in their own right. Things that are always impermanent.

 

The empty tomb is like the womb of a mother who has just given birth. The tomb is no longer a symbol of death but a symbol of hope  in a better tomorrow. Here, a resurrected Christ. 

If the wasn’t emptiness but only fullness, the universe wouldn’t be possible. Change wouldn’t be possible. Emptiness gives us the opportunity to go beyond our boundaries but, at the same time, reminds us not to become so complacent with life because as we emerge from this emptiness, we are still one with emptiness. Our sense of who we are which appears to us to be so solid and tangible isn’t permanent. The possibility of death is not just in the death of the body but also in the death of the mind. The death of our humanity. In this light, the resurrection can mean something even for the non-believer.

 

Conclusion: A Dead God?

 

In the context of what I have said already, the resurrection resonates with our very humanity. We long for renewal. We fear to die. We hope In a tomorrow. Even if it’s not guaranteed that we find ourselves the next morning. Easter and the renewal brought about by Spring are evoked in our art, our science and in our faiths and beliefs. No matter what, even if we may be staunch non-believers, we still want to claim a little to the ever after. Deep inside, we seek to be remembered in one way or another in this life by others. It’s not relevant whether we continue living in the memories of people or in another state of existence, we seek to be remembered. The plain truth, however, is that in the distant future, no one of us will be remembered and there will be no humans in the universe. Where will we all go?

 

I cannot answer that question. For, in truth, if I think about it, not even the sense of who I am is as real and  rigid as I thought I was. Our bodies die, our minds change and our lives are finite. To me, discussing whether God  exists or not can’t be resolved in a debate of any sort. Is God really dead? Yes, the moment God becomes a word and a concept, yes, God is dead. In Judaism, it is forbidden to utter the name of God. Now I can understand why. For God is not to be understood. Indeed, God is not a being. God simply is. Moses was told that the voice speaking to him was  the “I am that I am!’. 

 

We’re wrong if we pretend to be able to define God or claim that we can accept or reject God without understanding that God, cannot be understood. In fact, by using the word I’m once again trying to own and lay claim to what I will never know or understand. And there is the death of God.

I know that not many will understand what I write, let alone agree with what I wrote here. I don’t even pretend I am right or correct in some things I wrote. I have tried to struggle with the question of existence and I know that I am wrong in so many ways. Yet if life has taught me anything and if Buddhism has taught me anything and if secularism has taught me anything is that we are called to live in the present. It’s the every day that we are invited to change and it’s at every moment of our existence that we can be happy and when we can grow.

 

It’s in this way that the Christian message ceases to be an exclusive message of Christians. It’s only in this way that a secular Easter is possible.

 

It is, at that point, when an empty tomb becomes a symbol of renewal and possibility. It’s there were admitting that God is dead is ironically an invitation to find the one “Who Is”! 

 

Thanks for reading through this very long  entry!

The Day of Reflection

To begin….

Over here in Malta, we’ll be having the elections tomorrow - the 9th March 2013. An event that normally happens every five years. It’s a time when we will have a chance to have a say in the running of our country. Yet, we often take the democratic process we have today too much. For granted. We don’t realise that the vote and the democratic process may be the best form of political system we have. And, even then, we may not know that the democracy we have today isn’t like that of ancient Greece, were only the rich and privileged had a vote. Or, the ‘democracy’ were only men of a certain class were allowed to vote while more than half of the population, women, were excluded. Their vote didn’t count.

Today was also a day of reflection. A day when all political expression in the media or for public consumption is, technically, illegal. But, how many of us actually appreciate the right to vote we have in our democracies? How much do politicians are really interested in the betterment of society, or are they more interested in gaining our vote for the sake of power? I will not be tackling the second question because I leave it to you to judge on your own the political merits of respective candidates. However, before this day is over, I wanted to share a few thoughts and reflections, together from some quotes which have helped me believe that, while I’m still denied the right to vote in secret, I have the right to vote. And, while alone I will not bring about a revolution, I can make a difference. But I cannot make that difference on my own.

Questions, Quotes, etc.

Do I really appreciate the right I have to vote?

Do I believe that I can express my anger and frustration by simply voting because of personal interests or motivations?

Can I afford NOT to vote and forfeit my right to vote?

But, then, is the vote just a right or a duty I have to my society?

Would I, by wasting or abusing my right to vote also going against what I believe in?

“It is the duty of every citizen according to his best capacities to give validity to his convictions in political affairs.”  Albert Einstein

What about truth?

Have I really thought over my decision in voting?

Did what I heard in political speeches and debates faithful to the truth?


M I ready to follow a leader just because I have learned not to question?

Does the leader talk a lot about himself and not about how he’ll make our society better?

Have I bothered to go beyond what parties are telling me and dared to ask the right questions?

Am I following the party just because I feel a sense of belonging or because I sincerely think that the party is in tune with the values it purports to hold?

Do I honestly believe that as long as I’m comfortable after the elections,I don’t care about the rest?

Aren’t we all dependent on each other in our society? Or in our lives?

Aren’t other people’s losses but my own?

Am I prepared to do the right thing, even if it might hurt at first?

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

How?

how did the respective parties tackled issues facing minorities or excluded groups?

How did they deal with people of different opinions, faith or belief?

Do they believe that the majority should decide on human rights and that human beings don’t have a right to dignity and respect they deserve without needing to justify their life?

Finally...

Has the political rhetoric intoxicate our minds and hearts as to forget that we share a common humanity and inasmuch as we hold our political beliefs, we remain subject to the same pains and pleasures this life has to offer.

We live in a society made up of individuals. Yet neither can society impose itself on the individual nor the individual can exist without a society. That’s why I chose to right this entry on this day of reflection. Not because I’m not a bit anxious about voting tomorrow and its possible aftermath. But I wanted to reassure myself that whatever I vote tomorrow, I hope to vote with a clear mind and be true to my beliefs and convictions.

I may be unhappy with the result if it doesn’t follow on my choices. But, if anything, I will sleep on Saturday night with a peaceful conscience because I know that I did what I could. I was true to my own self.

Nobody knows what the future will be like. Perhaps I’ll discover that there open new possibilities that I was never aware of. The truth I believe in fills me with the will to live on. I want a society that is equal, just and more compassionate. I can’t expect that all all these aspirations will be achieved if I don’t play my part. However, I cannot deny that Malta has progressed a lot in all these areas. Granted, there’s still things to be done. But, come what may, we all need to continue working together. I end this entry by another two quotes that helped me to restore a certain hope in the future ahead. As for me, there’s not much to add. Just to remember to vote with a clear mind and a compassionate heart.

And remember:

“whether your cause has many or few adherents, truth will still prevail.” HH the 14th Dalai Lama

Or, if you feel you have failed in your cause, remember the words of Gandhi:

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it--always.” Mohandas K.  Gandhi

Pain - Teach Me Life

I'm in pain once again. It's my back and legs now as well. It's hard and I struggle to type this entry in my present condition. So, I'll limit myself to a few reflections.

Of course, it's difficult for me to cope at times. I get to ask the question - why me? After all, I have been through so much over these years that I don't need this. Yet, when I realise how others may be going through much more serious suffering, I am compelled to ask why not me. What makes me so 'special' as to be spared to share in this human experience? Wouldn't be arrogant of me to expect to be spared just because I have through enough pain?

Doesn't this experience offer me the opportunity to Learn about who I am and my relation to others and the world?

Should I consume myself in anger and personal concerns while failing to grow in compassion? Aren't we, humans, all in the same situation? No one can escape this.

I also lay my hope that like everything else, this will end. Even if, at present, it seems hard to believe. I could deny myself the possibility of hope and indulge in self-pity and close my heart to the world. But that wouldn't help me or anyone for that matter.

This is my current reality. Uncomfortable - sure. Unnecessary - perhaps. But, useless it is not.

I witness the present moment. There's pain that comes and goes. But every one of these moments is unique and I must trust and live in the realities that surround me.

There'll be times of hope and others of despair. Successes and failures in how I dealpain. Yet, I refuse to define myself with this temporal pain. My humanity goes beyond that.

I may choose to drown in despair or affirm life by accepting this experience, learn from it and letting go.

Nobody can decide this but me.

I will try to choose to follow the path of hope.

This is a choice that no one can make on my behalf.

But it's a choice that I must make.