the library
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
♥ Wednesday, February 17, 2010
I make a hasty approximation: her flock of hair says eighty. But considering the size of the chinese words she's looking at, I'll go with sixty years old. Beside that lady is another- she's looking at this magazine called bazaar and the rate at which she flips the pages and the manner in which her pupils bounce up and down, speaks volumes about its content.
Here I am, in the library, seated adjacent to a pillar with a plug that gives power to this laptop to continue its literary function. Laid out before me like a carpet before the emperor is two rows of chairs with strangers devouring their respective readings. I like it here.
There is an amazing similarity with all of us here- The lady sitting diagonally opposite me is prying through a travel guide with the an inquisitivity that can only be described as ferocious. Right in front of me is a lady who's closed eyes and clenched teeth gives an impression of a subconscious resolve. As for a resolve to do what, your guess is as good as mine. And here I am, pounding away against a keyboard way too tiny for my hands, trying to the deny the inescapable fact that I have readings scheduled for today. We are all in some sort of pursuit of our dreams maybe, some in the form of denial, the more practical ones fall asleep.
We are connected by the randomness of our decisions to be here. I have no idea why I am in this specific library apart from the hope that vicinity and opportunity are connected. And in that random decision, I have come to give witness to the present.
I have come witness to this fact: That more people give homage to the present than we care to believe- the world has given us the impression of a better tomorrow so much so today's of little significance. In the library, where everyone basks in the quiet now of their readings, being transported to the amazing world of CS lewis or the boggling mysteries of Agatha Christie, or to the utter hopelessness and despondency of Aldous Huxley or George Orwell one cant help but develop a sense of great reverence of the now.
There is great reverence because it is deep beneath the walls of the vatican where a Dan Brown thriller unfolds, or lost in the woods of a Neil Gaiman story that one finds his or her quiet. It is the streets of Afghanistan that we run along and the roads of Golgotha that we find tragedy and heartbreak. There is a place for us, in the library. And there is peace in the quiet. It is way too noisy outside- there is always a place to go and we are always speeding. That is why we crash.
The library finds itself in a very neat contradistinction to the road- the people move less here and live more. And it is now, after displaying my own respect for those who've done so, that I retreat behind the solace of my readings.
Misunderstanding faith.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
♥ Saturday, February 13, 2010
"With every step of our lives we enter into a story that we are certain to misunderstand" GK Chesterton. I've entered into a catholic story. And I am certain that I have misunderstood it. Maybe the biggest mistake that I used to make is to think that this religion is one of expectations.
We expect to be saved, we expect to meet the nicest of persons and we expect others to safeguard our vulnerabilities. On the other hand, we take on the full brunt of a whole host of other expectations: that of commitment, the rules and rites that we have to go for and those others have of us. Thus, a day of "obligation". Expectations are a bag of bricks and it makes us ask, sooner or later, what is the meaning behind all of it.
I do think that there is an invitation to interpret it all differently. "If you know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, why cant you interpret the sign of the times?" Matthew 16:2-3. The question is: is there? Is there a way to see the cup half-full?
It is not easy to recall, constantly, the self-evident and obvious fact that we are human. But that is the starting point of any meaningful reflection: because I am human, I am a person who's embraced by all that my humanity clothes me with. Those are sentiments, failings, achievements, weaknesses, losses, rights....and responsibilities. Responsibility, in my opinion, is the other interpretation.
What then does responsibility mean?
First, knowing that no one lives your life.
Second, appreciating that your life has an impact on others.
Third, getting to decide what kind of impact that has on others.
Through this lens, faith then becomes personal and not imposed. Since it is "my life", I am going to decide whether to accept this invitation to believe. When I accept this invitation, I am becoming open to appreciate the fact that my life and my belief interacts with others. As a result of this interaction, I have to choose the way in which this interaction affects them. That is why the one of the greatest commandments is to love your neighbour- not because it tells others we are Christians, but because in so doing we become one.
With responsibility, comes the idea of empowerment. This is because the christian sense of responsibility is infused with meaning, it is paved with direction and cushioned with compassion. Where one reflects that his or her life is precious, because it can be gone in an instant, then the actions that flow from it becomes meaningful. With reason, comes motivation. The choices that are made is infused with a sense of purpose, and persons become reasons to hope in, rather than expect of.
It is this hope that one presents to another, when one is willing to show his or her wounds and his or her pierced sides to say "doubt no longer but believe" that we begin to uncover a little bit more, of what our faith is really about.
