We all want to be understood. At some point, and I hope not perpetually, we’ve all felt the pain of being misunderstood. But none of us want to be the pioneer in this process of understanding each other.
To understand despite being misunderstood takes courage and returns peace. The peace we all felt being robbed off after a conflict. The peace we’re willing to travel miles to find. That inner peace is nowhere else to look for, it lies right in the heart of the conflict, but we’re too blinded by our own egos to realise that.
We’ve all already tried repelling, walking away from our conflicts, and we’ve lost a part of ourselves in the process. Perhaps, now is the time to understand that either of us can be the first one to break this chain. We can be the first one to comply, atleast try, like they say how do you know you don’t like it if you don’t even try? Maybe we don’t hate it that much, maybe, and quite unexpectedly, it takes us a step closer to our desires.
There is no such happiness that takes away the peace of another person. And anyone of us can be the first one to realise that. There is nothing saintly about it, it’s just being human.
I often hear people express that their favourite age is childhood. And that is because the love and kindness in a child are unparalleled. While it’s true that a child effortlessly lights up a tarnished soul, kindness and love in a child are not his choices, they are the only expressions a child knows. They, as a matter of fact are a reflection of what they see in the eyes of their mother and feel in the hugs of their father.
So perhaps when we look upto the love of a child, we should really look up to who we become as parents. When we see a glowing child, we should walk up to their mother and tell her that we aspire to be as loving as she is!
And this is exactly why adulthood is my favourite age. It is the age in which you can choose to be whoever you want to be. An age where you’re empowered, and love and compassion are not Hobson’s choices.
I love the eyes of an adult man and woman, those that have witnessed the colours of heartbreaks, deceit, and loss, and yet they choose to reflect those of compassion and mercy. A choice that is neither influenced by naivety nor the freckles on their skin. One that is governed solely by character and strength of their will. That to me, is surreal.