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 there life after FaceBook?

L)) Listen to a recent episode with the same name I published oN my podcast channel at AudioBoo

FaceBook Memories

Last week, I took what seemed, at first, to be a difficult decision. I de-activated my FaceBook account. Even if I can re-activate my account within a time window, it’s unlikely for me to return. I admit that I was pretty excited when I started using FaceBook for the first time. It felt good to see more ‘friends’ and acquaintances joining me as a ‘friend’. Indeed, over the years, I did gain a modest number of followers, including new and old friends, schoolmates, relatives and had the chance to connect with like minded people.

Disenchantment

On the other hand, I have grown weary about what FaceBook has become. While I find that the idea of social networks and FaceBook in particular, to be a positive one, I regret that, on its part, FaceBook has sold its soul (if social networks can have one) to businesses and companies. Unfortunately, as a FaceBook user, I noticed that many of those using what is now a social network giant don’t yet understand the implications of posting stuff on the platform.

In fact, people have been posting updates about the most trivial things happing in their lives, posting photos that may be inappropriate or sharing ‘feel good’ updates or ‘feel bad’ updates to gain attention. We also sometimes tend to post status updates to provoke controversy. All in all, we seek to create an identity and seek to be popular - even if it means portraying ourselves as tragic victims. Worse still, we fill our profiles with details about who we are or what we do to the whole world to find. Things that we might not be comfortable sharing with a person we met in the street, we are ready to tell the world.

A Privacy Lost

Many people have rightly expressed their concerns following Edward Snowden's revelations that the US government Is monitoring the activities of its citizens, and most likely, other citizens from other countries to protect “national security”. But, forgetting this issue for today, these concerns arise because we value our privacy. After all, we want to keep aspects of our lives to ourselves. However, our insistence on the ‘sacred’ right to privacy seems to be inconsistent with how we behave on FaceBookFaceBook activity is also precious information for businesses to use and exploit for their own business interests. A thing that we make easier for those seeking to make more profit whenever we press LIKE on a particular product and service. While this can help the company improve their service, it is also somewhat an invasion of our privacy, It night even mean that we are valuing products as people. For, in truth, the FaceBook started off as a network of friends, it has been colonised by an aggressive commercialisation where objects become our friends and friends, in a way, become objects.

Sadly, I realise that FaceBook is neither the utopian social network which connects people from around the world to encourage dialogue and mutual understanding. Yes, there are some groups and individuals who are engaging in a dialogue to promote peace and justice around the world. Yet, as with anything we create as human beings, FaceBook has been the meeting place for those who spread hate or intolerance to others, including far right groups and those groups which implicitly support homophobia, people of different race, faith or disability. This tendency for us to form our own affiliations even if they condone hate crime or violence, is a reality. And if a group is private, FaceBook can be a place where we limit ourselves to reading from people who have our opinions without even giving the chance for us to hear a different opinion than our own.

Again, I am not condemning FaceBook or those who use it. For all I know, I might return. However, I believe that I have become too dependent on FaceBook to the extent that I wasn’t sure whether I could live without it. A feeling I am sure some readers can relate to. I haven’t become addicted to FaceBook. But, then again, I had a life before FaceBook. We all had. In a way, FaceBook. I thank all of you who joined me on FaceBook is not going to be there forever. And it could continue to change too much.

I left FaceBook tO regain my authenticity and grow in self-knowledge without having to adopt an identity that is NOT who I am!


PS: I will still be on Twitter though - so you can still connect with me @GordonGT!

Failing in Spite of Trying!

I tried for a second time to get out of bed with the little strength I’ve got left following the long time I’ve been spending in bed. Of course, it could be much worse. I haven’t totally been cut off from society. With all its criticisms, technology has enabled me to keep in touch with the world. I’m even started doing my work from home for a number of days now.
But, it pains me that, in spite of trying to get out of bed on my own, I must accept the fact that, right now, even transferring to my wheelchair is something I cannot do on my own.
I was sad when I realise that I have come to this point. But I have been trying to do my best. Or perhaps I am not doing enough. I remain grateful for the fact that I have retained enough strength to get better. If I keep trying.
It’s tempting for us to believe that others will solve our problems or blame others for our problems. I know that those who believe God is in control of their destiny tend to expect that God will solve their problems. I looked at life that way when I was younger and less mature.
Yet, the fact is that, if we want to move forward, we need to take personal responsibility for our own actions. We shouldn’t expect miracles to happen. The very fact that I’m still breathing after all these years is a miracle in itself.
Not that my life is ‘extraordinary’ as some have told me. Yes, I’ve been through a lot already but I chose to go on. I may have chosen to end it all. But I didn’t. Not because I am brave or courageous but, rather, it was because I fear death. Or, actually, that I feared death.
Yet, inasmuch as death is such a scary prospect for many, I have come to accept it as part of my future. For the promise of death isn’t a reason to die. Indeed, it is a reason to live. And while my life’s failures appear to be moments when I come to cry and to regret, without them I would never succeed.
For unpleasant as it might be, a failure means that you have tried. For if you always succeed in whatever you do on your first attempt, where would your satisfaction be?If life was so easy, so free from challenges and difficulties, would their be a point in living? This is difficult to answer. And, we can’t answer it because we are human beings.
We idealise a life where no one dies, when we become perfect incarnations of humanity. When we don’t have to suffer in any way.
Yet, I wonder whether in our state of immortal perfection, we will still be able to feel compassion to others or, else, become no different than the mythical gods of ancient Greece where others became mere objects of play and manipulation.
Our life may be not that much when you think about it. We live to die. We change from healthy young children with a will to love and be loved, only to find ourselves old and, sometimes, tired of living. But amidst the sadness, the despair and the disenchantment we might experience, there is so much more to celebrate. There’s still much we can do. So much we can do. Life is impermanent, yes, but that is all the more reason to try to live it to the full and make the best of it. Its an opportunity to change for the better the life of those who are still chained by injustice, violence and by inequality.There will always be failure.
There will always be lost lives. There will always be tragedies and deaths. Pride would lead us to forfeit our responsibility and blame others or even a god but never ourselves. Humility, on the other hand, bids us to accept our failure as an invitation to learn.
Pride will tell us that we don’t depend on anyone. Humility teaches us that we are co-dependent.
Pride deludes us into believing that we will live forever. Humility reminds us that we are living on borrowed time.
At this point, I feel I have failed in spite of trying. Pride tells me that I have failed as a person for having to ask for help (yet again). Humility reassures me that this a chance to try my best again and accept the fact that needing one another is part of being human. There’s no shame in failing if one has genuinely tried to do better.

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.

Renewing Trust After Betrayal

Recent experiences where I was misled and deceived led me to question once again, my trust in other people. In the past, I had been taken for a ride so many times because I was young, inexperienced or even because I was disabled and different. I had also my fair share of disappointments were I built high hopes and expectations, only to discover these were just hollow illusions. In time, I would start to trust again and took care in choosing well whom to trust.

However, we remain human. And, despite my meditation practice, there are things that can blind, metaphorically, the best of us. Not that I’m the best. The point is that when the self hears things that it likes to hear, it tends to lower its usual defences. And, as the illusionary ego grows and grows, it has the tendency to take over common sense. From then on, there is a danger that the delusion becomes reality and, in effect, any doubts are countered by irrational thinking, you’ve reached a point of no return.

Thus, when you learn that all your time and energy you invested was entrusted to deceitful people who just want to exploit your pride for their own advantage, then there is your reality collapses. You wake up from a dream into a hard reality. And, as in my case, you only want to hide away and cry. You start blaming the people who betrayed your trust. You want to find a way out. You don’t want to face the fruits of your mistakes. You even try to pretend it never happened. And you return back to reality, you cry and cry until you want to escape from the fact that you’ve been betrayed.

Even if other people may have had a large part to play in breaking your trust, deep inside you blame yourself for being too trusty or even stupid for not spotting the red lights. Then, you discover that you are angry at yourself. At letting your guard down and following the chants of the tempting sirens. At that point, you start questioning yourself and, perhaps, doubting all the decisions you take from then on. Not that you didn’t do this before but, now, there’s greater suspicion and mild paranoia. Can you recover from betrayal? Can you trust again?
Some time has passed since these events took place in my life. I haven’t yet recovered from the feeling of being betrayed. I am not fully recovered from a feeling that I am still vulnerable. In this sense, this was a painful experience but also a wake up call. It reminded me that inasmuch as I have moved forward in these couple of years, I will never be completely immune from temptation, emotion and desire.

I remain human with all the good and bad that comes with being human. Whether or not I renew my trust depends on many factors. What I can say is that there’s no magic formula. People are people. The nicest of human beings are capable of deceiving or betraying you if they believe they’re somewhat justified in their actions. Yet, it’s impossible not to trust anyone in the world. The very foundations of human society is based on a degree of trust. We trust that the water we drink is safe. We trust that the food we eat is free from poisons or contaminants. We trust that the builders who build our houses used the right material. The list is endless.

The only thing we can do is to be aware of who we are. To be mindful of what we are thinking. To take the time to know yourself. My mistake was that I noticed the warning signs but I chose to ignore them in pursuit of a flight of fancy. If I had been perhaps more receptive to the thoughts that were going through my mind before I took the wrong decisions, I might have prevented all this from happening in the first place.

While I will try to be more careful in whom I place my trust, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be forever safe. For, unfortunate as it may be, human beings will continue to find more subtle ways to betray and deceive others. On the other hand, you cannot give up on trust completely. Knowing yourself is a great way to protect yourself but it isn’t foolproof.

And when you’re betrayed, you should have the courage to accept what is and take remedial action if you can..

But denying it will only render you a slave to the betrayer.

A slave to your own self.

What am I? The Second Question of Belonging.

Follows from Who am I?

 

 

I continue to reflect on the meaning of who I am as a human being today. In this entry, which started as a series of three questions on authentic being, I will try to put forward a few points for reflection. In particular, to answers to the question about what we are.

Even if there may be no real distinction between who we are and what we are, I feel that this question relates more to our sense of identity in the social and human context in which we live.

Today, I find that a common answer that is provided when asked about who we are is related either to our work or position within our family and other organisations. In this sense, what we are is sometimes understood by what we do. Indeed, many choose to define themselves by what they do in their daily life. Thus, many who find themselves without work for various reasons become, in a sense, ‘nothing’ or, at best, those ‘others’ in society that we talk about and not whom we talk with. They remain hidden in misconceptions and a kind of mystery. They are like ghosts who don’t belong neither the land of the living or the realm of the dead.

 

But, in truth, aren’t we all living ghosts? Robbed of our names, our religion, our politics, our philosophy, our social groups, and so on and so forth, what remains of us?

 

Assuming that we are born in society and grow among other human beings, we develop a sense of belonging. We are given a name that identifies us as an individual, we are born in a family or a community that endows us with a culture and heritage, we acquire a language or many languages which directs how we will express who we are. We may acquire religion or a philosophy about how the world works and about the meaning of life. This list goes on.

 

Yet, while there’s nothing wrong with the need to belong, it’s dangerous if our sense of belonging becomes more of an attachment and a vehicle to discriminate, denigrate and humiliate those outside our group. I feel that, even in my life, I felt an outsider and never really fitted in either the ‘normal’ society or the ‘special’ society of persons with impairments. Indeed, I was a disabled person who lived most of his early life with non-disabled people. Yet, I never felt I belonged anywhere in particular.

 

Now, I perhaps, know the reason. A reason that relates to answering the question of belonging - not just in my case but for everyone. And, the answer is really simple. We can proclaim we belong to a group and even express our pride in this. Such a thing is not wrong but it risks creating between us differences not based on facts or reality but rather on thoughts and misguided ideas. It can close our hearts to the commonality of the human experience with all its beauty and suffering. It also shuts our minds to ways to make things better for all of us and not for one particular group or not.

 

Then, what are we? We may rightly define ourselves in terms of our tradition, beliefs and ideas. Yet, the fact remains is that what we are cannot be bound to a set of thoughts or words. Indeed, what we are is human beings who have the potential to transcend our differences and even adapt ourselves to new situations and realities. Yet, the fact remains that we are dependent on others in this world. We cannot belong to ourselves for who we are is a product of our heritage of evolution and of human society. In this sense, we belong to humankind before anything else.

 

 Continues and ends with the last question Why am I?

The Call of Compassion

I wasn’t planning to write a post today on this blog. However, I felt that circumstances have conspired against me and I am now compelled to write. I don’t really know why. You see, since today was a day off work, I had made plans on how to spend the day. I did manage to do some of the things I planned for the morning but at around 11am my plans had to change. I fell from my wheelchair and fell on the floor on my back. Well, I might have been a comic site as I think I looked like a tortoise who fell on its back and couldn’t move but had to scream for help to be assisted back to my chair.

I am still unable to move that much now. Not that I ever move that much. But, yes, the pain is there and I can’t ignore it when I move. I am resting and I think that I need to get a good rest if I realistically want to work tomorrow. Believe me, I felt bad about all this and I was just getting better from a recent back problem! Yet, I have to say that this injury has forced me to take a break from my plans and dedicate some time to good meditation. I thought it would help me relax and deal with the many emotions that were arising within me. I feel that this daily practice is helping me to put things in a wider perspective,. For, even if my physical injury was a great concern to me, I knew that right now people from around the world are suffering more than I could ever imagine. Not that I’m implying that I’m in anyway better than them but I felt that I should appreciate the present moment, pain or no pain.

I felt that this moment of pain should be a moment to reflect on others who are facing difficult situations. I felt that any suffering I had was simply part of the human experience. Although not nice or pleasant, it can be an occasion where we grow as human beings. It’s an event that forces us to consider our vulnerability as living beings. It makes us more aware that we remain fragile to the elements and are really helpless if you consider all the things we depend on to live. Things we take for granted.

I have often been, as a disabled person, on the other side of the fence. When I was being helped or assisted. However, inasmuch as those who helped me had good intentions, they seemed to look at me as an object of pity. I was not an equal but, alas, less fortunate. I felt diminished as a human being and reduced to a subject of charity. Now, I fear this kind of ‘charity’ is not really the thing. For, an approach to helping others which starts off with the assumption that who you are helping is worse off than you, already creates a barrier of sorts between yourself and the other. . For, as you find in both Buddhist and Christian traditions, charity is not about what you have done or are doing but rather about your motivation behind your act of charity.

For, if you help me out of pity, you’re not acting out of charity. You’re not acting with compassion. You would be acting out of pride or an interest to improve your public image. In this sense, a the call of compassion demands of us to take off our own selves and respond to another person as a human being like us. It requires of us to treat another as a human being. It’s that simple. The difficulty arises when, because of the way we have grown to regard our status in the world, we perceive others who may be different from us on many levels as not really worthy human beings, or at best, lower than us.

That’s why, even if I hope that my pain goes away soon, I am grateful for this opportunity. Not because I enjoy being in pain but that this experience has reminded, me once again, of how easy it’s to forget our human reality. Howe easy it is to forget to be compassionate to others simply because we are too caught up in our private worlds.

How easy it is for us to deny our common humanity.

The Fruits of Cooperation

When I was still a teenager, I participated in a simple enough team building exercise. A balloon was tied to our legs and the only instruction we received was to make sure that we preserved our balloon for five minutes. The person who still had a balloon tied to his or her leg after five minutes,won the game. At the time, I could still walk but it I couldn't compete with others. As the exercise started, every one proceeded to burst the other's balloon. I don't recall how long my balloon remained intact but it didn't take long I am sure. By the end of the exercise, all balloons were burst and no one had saved the balloon. While this exercise might seem childish, as I reflect more on the concept of interdependence, the more I realise how this simple exercise speaks volumes about human nature that is under the illusion that it's independent of others and which believes that it exists in its own right.

Like the participants in the balloon exercise, we assume that the only way to make it through life is to be better than others. That by resorting to any means to get what we want, we will gain happiness. True, we may feel happy and proud of having prevailed after winning over our competition but are we really winners? What if we made sure that our happiness doesn't have to come at the expense of others' happiness? Indeed, what if we helped in enriching the lives of others by making sure they find their own happiness? That we help them gain freedom from suffering created by a belief that the only happiness can be attained if they had it for themselves? or for a select few? These are not easy questions and in today's world, with its stress on individuality and competition, it might be unfashionable to speak of community and cooperation.

In this sense, our lives are not that different from the situation faced in the balloon exercise. In an attempt to preserve our happiness and protect our identity, we assume that the only way to be happy is by having something more than our neighbour. When, if you think about it, if we just waited those five minutes without bursting our peer's balloons, we could have all been winners! But it only took one to start the havoc. Perhaps it can take one person to start the change for the better. And this person may be you or me.

It's really our choice...

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?