Its for our own protection honey. Her mother tried to explain. But she was never really satisfied.
Why do we need fences?
Barbed wires around everything beautiful. Why did God not make fences around His rivers and deserts? Why does sky have no fence? Why do clouds get to breach territories with their rain? How did God miss this important detail?
Honey why don’t you appreciate the pasture? Try not to focus on the fences if they disturb you.
Because the pasture is where it should be. The pasture is at home. But the wires.. they are weeping. They want to be set free. They don’t want to live a life of hostility, but no one’s listening ma.
Forgiveness is not about forgetting what someone did to you. Forgiveness doesn’t provide the oppressor a relief from their guilt, as our mind tells us.
It, on the contrary, releases us from emotional dependence on the actions of our oppressor.
Forgiveness is about gaining emotional control on the situation. It is important for regaining self confidence, and stability of our ego.
Forgiveness is an act of liberation. When we forgive someone irrespective of their stance, our mind perceives it as the ability to move on from a situation as tantalising as this. In return, it assures us a whip hand position where we’re superior to the condolences of our oppressor. Together, this conscious self and our mind* liberate one another from this fear of aftermath of being vulnerable in a similar situation again. People might oppress us, and that will hurt but they won’t leave us in ruins. They can’t hold us back in life, both emotionally and physically.
The biggest obstacle in this path is aggression. It is an enemy to liberation. Aggression chains us, and forgiveness is it’s key.
I wrote this two years ago. I was naive, I thought life was about meeting your destiny.
He remembered how as a child this was his favorite dream, destiny. A force he should have been scared of, a wish he should have never made. But it wasn’t so consequential then. Destiny was something fascinating waiting to unfurl. For him to follow, discover, cherish. After all what could be bad with having a custom made path? A prewritten book of which he was a story, but not composed by him. What could be wrong with that?
It wasn’t until, that night, when he pondered why do some birds fall from their flight that he realized that if at the end of this page of their story, their flight is to crash, it will. Nothing will prevent them from it. They can take up a hundred different ways to try to sustain themselves, but they will fall. Because that’s what it’s like to have a prewritten story. No matter how many times you turn your hourglass and restart your chapter, all your versions will converge at one end, because this is the end that has been written for you. And that’s what it feels like to be a follower of that one, colossal destiny of which only a chapter had passed.
-2 years apart-
Now I understand. Destiny is bigger than us. Life is about the journey.
She had told him that falling wasn’t the worst part. But he couldn’t see how it wasn’t.
Atleast not until years later when he was at her place and he knew what she meant.
It wasn’t the fall that had consumed her, it was being stuck in the process. Going back and forth, back and forth trying a different outcome to the same course.
He knew if he didn’t find himself a different course, the process will consume him too.
A state of stasis. A state where you mistake swaying up and down with the waves as drifting. The waves being time. Time is always flowing. It’s in the nature. So is the course of planetary bodies. But humans, not so necessarily. Man always has a choice. The real test, and inertia is captivating. Inertia and perpetuity together are devastating.
Our body grows because our cells are programmed to. The same way any other living creature, botanical or zoological does. So this form of change is an attribute of living things, and there is nothing voluntary about it.
Perpetuity to me is a state where you stop being influenced by a certain kind of stimulus. It can be thought of as a response to a painfully shattering experience. Something strong enough to alter the natural tendency of a man to react.
I think at some point all of us take refuge in it. When we think we’ve had enough, when we think we will take the right of hurting us away from other people for good, we’re subconsciously drifting towards perpetuity. And it’s scary. Because it’s unnatural.
It’s like painting a sun and a moon on two separate walls of a room, and then timely facing one of them so as to simulate day and night. But no matter how close to reality you draw, it is still a painting. It is a simulation. This room is your heart. And depriving it of real sunlight to breathe in, and real moonlight to sigh upon, is causing it to wither away. It is dying out craving for reality. The real feel of things.
Have you ever been in and out of this state? Do you know what it feels like? Let me know what you think about it. For me, I want to believe that there is a way out of it. Even if you drift into it at some point, after your recess, you can finally drift out of it. Being stuck at this simulation of living while each day is a day less of your life on Earth is both terrifying and sad.
In this context consider one of my favourite thought provoking quotes by Mark Nepo from The Book of Awakening:
We waste so much energy trying to cover up who we are when beneath every attitude is the want to be loved, and beneath every anger is a wound to be healed and beneath every sadness is the fear that there will not be enough time.
When we hesitate in being direct, we unknowingly slip something on, some added layer of protection that keeps us from feeling the world, and often that thin covering is the beginning of a loneliness which, if not put down, diminishes our chances of joy.
It’s like wearing gloves every time we touch something, and then, forgetting we chose to put them on, we complain that nothing feels quite real. Our challenge each day is not to get dressed to face the world but to unglove ourselves so that the doorknob feels cold and the car handle feels wet and the kiss goodbye feels like the lips of another being, soft and unrepeatable.