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 

 

This isn't really my life...

We are often exposed to news stories reporting on the deaths of motorists, people still dying in places far away as a result of war, natural disasters or the injustices of poverty and intolerance. But, does hearing these accounts day and night, stir us in any way? Or have we become so used to these stories that we don’t perhaps stop and reflect that, behind these victims, there are real people? People who are suffering or even dying? While the killings still happening in Syria are cause for concern, many other people this minute are dying out of unnatural acts of our human failure to love and respect each other as equals.

So, we have the rich and the poor, the so-called ‘developing’ and the ‘developed’ worlds. There are the fit and the unfit. Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Buddhists, Sikhs and many other religious traditions. There are secularists, humanists, and atheists. But, if I think about it, all these categories are created by us. Yes, all of us continue reinforcing these differences, often without knowing. We want to belong to a group in society that we feel is more like us. It’s irrelevant whether we identify as criminals, drug dealers, practicing believers, or convinced atheists. If we are given the opportunity to express our feelings, we tend to like those like us.

But, then again, can we really claim that our lives are ‘ours’? Many would claim this is a fact. Our life is our life and nobody has the right to impose anything on us against our will. In this, I wholeheartedly agree. The problem is when we lay claim to all our achievements and to our current position. The illusion manifests itself when we believe, without question, that our bodies belong to us, almost as if they were an object or property we have. With that I would have a problem. For, in truth, if you aren’t careful, you might run off with the impression that you can make it on your own on this Earth. In its extreme form, such a delusion may lead us to neglect our bodies or, worse still, harm others because they become simply possessions and objects to manipulate like any other utensil.

There are a couple of questions I will put out there. I won’t answer them or presume to know the answers to any of them. And, once you start reading, you will quickly realise the answers are pretty straight forward. I will, however add a short comment at the end of each question for further reflection.

Did you choose to be born?

Who brought you to the world?

Have you created the society, the culture, the science, the structure and the world you are now living in?

Have you created the planet Earth and all the living beings that populate it?

Have you created the Earth itself, the planets in the solar system and the Sun?

Have you created this galaxy, this universe and the cosmos beyond?

Have you created the stars and the matter forming the basis of material reality?

Have you sparked off all of this and can truly claim that this life, which spans for an infinitesimal stretch of time your own making?

Of course, we remain responsible for our own thoughts and actions to a point. And, even there, we are always limited as human beings. We still need many others to make it through the day. We need other living beings to survive on this planet. Starting from what we think insignificant such as flies and bees to those we deem beautiful and worth preserving. Yet, if you think about it, all beings contribute in their own ways to the welfare of the planet. Even if it may be yet unknown to us.

Unfortunately, the human species is perhaps the only animal who has actively exploited nature for its own ends. The only ‘self-aware[ being that still assumes that everything will go on as before in spite of the impact of waste, pollution, deforestation, nuclear disasters and so much more.

But, wait, I am a human being too! My life depends o so many people, so many living beings, the Earth and the stars that populate it. I cannot keep detached from all that is happening. Like you and the rest of humanity, my life depends on others. To what extent, I and others, are committed to preserving our Earth. To how far we are prepared to put our differences and desires to control and gain power for the welfare of all human beings. Indeed, our life, our bodies and even our thoughts are not exclusively our own. They are constantly shaped and sustained by the Earth. Even the very atoms and molecular structures that form our bodies originated in the beginning of the universe.

Indeed, as I ponder on the ending of another day. As another night falls beckons. I look around me with a sense of gratitude. As I look at the night sky with my feeble eyes, I ask myself…

Are we all sons and daughters of the stars?

Made of the same stuff.

Matter that will not last forever.

What exists beyond that is a matter of speculation and personal faith.

The Unrreality of Time

Today, I wanted to share some reflections on time. I noticed that my preoccupation with time started from a young age. While human beings appear to value time and even obsessed about rituals centred on time, keeping track of time had practical applications.

Indeed, time keeping was essential for agriculture, navigation and early astronomy. The significance of time is also evidenced by the fact that is also a concern of religion. In this sense, the fact that we defined time also suggests that we might have been trying to get to terms with death and the inevitability of impermanence. In fact, it may be argued that world religions which believe are a source of hope in n after-life.

All humans in general, fear death and do their utmost to avoid talking about death. While belief in a better after-life may some individuals to go on living, the danger is when people in an attempt to escape from dealing with their impermanence, go on believing that they will not die or that their truth is the only valid truth.

Consequently, instead of using their life to help others, they fixate on saving the world and divide themselves on the basis of faith. However, our thoughts are often caught in an illusion called time.

For time itself, is not real. Our experience of life stretches to a number of about more than a 100 years. While we might now that there are beings that are still living for thousands of years, we just cannot relate to such long lifetimes.

Similarly, we can't ignore that our perception of time depends other factors such as awareness of movement and space and conscious awareness. So while time is a useful concept, it doesn't exist in its own right!

Who am I? - The First Question of Being

In my last entry “The Desert of Authenticity”, I promised that I would be meditating and reflecting on three questions I believe are essential in understanding our authenticity. While in these posts, I will attempt to address the the questions as they relate to being, belonging and becoming, I must say that my reflections are based on my own experiences and on the readings I’ve made throughout my 31 years of life. In this sense, these are only basic reflections that remain incomplete.

 

I believe that my life so far has been ordinary. As a boy, I was given a name, attended school and continued with my studies. I was raised in the Catholic faith tradition and received the sacraments. I got sick along the way and still get sick. I have been judged because I was physically different in many, often in contradictory terms, ranging from a pitiful and less fortunate boy to a holy person bearing Christ’s cross. I was seen as an ‘inspiration’ and as courageous. I was also some thought should be pitied.

 

I was hurt, felt angry and, I confess, was even flattered as I thought of myself as ‘special’ or, yes, even superior to others. But, in truth, all these identities were also imposed ones that were imposed on me. Even my sense of gender, culture and faith were, in a sense, imposed on me which although they have value and utility in society, they didn’t truly reflect who I was as a person but only stopped at judging who I was on the outside.

 

Unfortunately, we often confuse our sense of being with our sense of belonging. This exposes us to the risk of closing our sense of being to external and secondary interpretations of who we are. Even if I’m not saying that these identities are false, they often close our minds and hearts to other human beings as we are made convinced that we’re not like them. Instead of cultivating our authentic being, it obscures our sense of being and can, indeed, further distances us of acknowledging our basic common humanity.

 

I rote it many times before but it’s a truth that still inspires me in my practice. It’s the fact, that beyond all the world says we are or should be, we remain human beings who go through life experiencing pain and illness, we remain dependent on others to live in this world and we all must age and ultimately, die. Yet, we are constantly encouraged to escape from this reality and wasting our time and energy in vain. For if we persist in erecting further barriers between ourselves, there will never be peace. We will never be truly happy. We will never be satisfied.

 

As I end this entry, I feel that answering the question of being, we need to acknowledge that we are human beings- neither worse off than better than others. Only then can we start to change the world to the better.

 

Continues to the question What am I?

Who do you think you are?

If I had to ask you to define who you are, are you ready with an answer? The truth is that many live our life without asking this fundamental question. We seem to lose the ability to wonder at the beauty of the world that surrounds us. It appears as if we get used to the environment and people around us that we take them for granted. As if we have a claim to all we have. Or, what we think we have. This is perhaps one of the misfortunes of adulthood. Believing that we are independent of everything and everyone else.

Despite our belief in free will, we cannot escape the fact that we also define ourselves by our community, political and religious convictions and many more. In this sense, our independence of thought is, essentially, not as independent as we might wish to presume. There are also other factors that we have little control over, such as our height, skin colour, sex, and physical and mental functions. But then again, it’s difficult to explain why do we treat people on the basis on how they look or behave.

Unless, of course, we admit that we cannot define who we are outside of relationships. In other words, who we are must be defined in terms of a relation we have to another person or object. Our sense of being is dependent on language, culture and thinking itself. Without our body, who would we be? All this appears to offer us a bleak picture of life because, especially in Western thought, we have grown with the idea that we are independent and autonomous beings. The idea that this self-image is incorrect is devastating to a culture that professes an “I” in his/her own right.

Here, I must admit that living with my impairments has made me realise how dependent I was on others in different ways. Ironically, I also realised how some of those “others” were disabling me by treating me differently and placing obstacles that prevented me from expressing my full potential. And now that I have a social life, work and a purpose in life, I am realising how stupidI was to aim for a ‘normality’, for an ‘independence’ and ‘autonomy’. When, now that I reflect, no one who makes a claim to his/her normality, independence and autonomy is really aware of all the conditions that had to be in place for this life to continue.

For the miracle of life isn’t much in any extraordinary supernatural event but in the very fact that we are alive in the first place. And that our inevitable reality of interdependence and the impossibility of being independent makes me realise how much we owe to the person who makes sure we have electricity, the person who prepares the bread we eat, the tea cultivators who collect the tea leaves, the person who built my bed, and do many other people who have made this moment possible.

We may not be able to change what others think of us. We may even have little control over our environment. But we can take charge off our mind if we are willing to take the time to cultivate our awareness. Then, the question about who we are becomes irrelevant. Instead, we will start asking the right questions which only we can answer.

A Personal Meditation on the Body and Attachment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Re-Mind-Er

I don't know how to explain what this blog is all about. So, if you find my writing to be unclear or nonsensical, you may be right. Inasmuch as I love to write when I cam, I acknowledge the potential pitfalls our words can lead us to. This is even truer perhaps when we try to capture an emotion or a feeling we have. When we attempt to talk or conceive of thoughts happening in our own minds!

I find that many take our minds for granted. That is, until we develop problems or we are forced to reflect about such things as where our lives are going and, ultimately, on what our purpose in life is. It's true that there may be no real purpose for us being alive and it's all wishful thinking or downright human pride to believe that we have any purpose for living. However, we still seek refuge in an idea or believe to guide us on.

I'm not simply talking abut atheists here, for even a non-believer may have a strong sense of ethics and morality. Rather, I'm talking about the reality of human existence which doesn't emerge in isolation. Inevitably and may be shocking, the fact is that we need other people to define who we are. But you knew that already, didn't you?

And yet, we seem to forget this. Until we are placed in a situation where we encounter a problem or need help. Then we realize that our belief in an autonomous, independent and sells-sufficient persons (we think we are) are only partly true. That our perception of the world is influenced by those who came before us and those in our world. There's no escaping this for even the claims made by some that they are 'unbelievers' is a human construct that has been around since the mythical Eden.

I'm not claiming that our lives are the same or that we can speak of a state of equality between people and nations. This is the unfortunate condition of our world unless we become aware of our common humanity. Our basic vulnerabilities in face of death. And that is partly why we are afraid to die. We are afraid to lose what we have and, worst of all, of losing our own identity. We are scared of being alone in an unknown state.

Yes, it will happen. Are we prepared? Am I prepared?