I’m not going to write titles that sum up my post, anymore. I’m going to leave a letter here a word there and be done with it. So that people have to read through it to know what it’s about. So that in my small way, I rebel against the clickbaits and get slowly pushed to the farthest corner of the Internet where no one reads my posts anymore. But it must be done. Because attention spans must increase, which I believe have a direct correlation with our patience of others. Our patience, quite frankly is fast dwindling. That deep abiding time that passes when one party is expressing and another is observing has been curtailed by man-made accessories that were created for communication, ironically. We’re doing a lot less of it than we should have been.
However, all hope is not lost. It never is, if you belong to an Abrahamic religion. I was talking to my friend Cal the other day, and we spoke about this and that, and life, which is generally a comic strip about capers gone wrong while God reads them and laughs. The indoctrination of the afterlife in Abrahamic religions is quite deep-rooted. No matter Jew, Christian or Muslim, we all believe that we’re going to transcend into a place that’s better than where we are. This indoctrination, in my humble opinion, is genius because it makes us go on no matter how ridiculous our cartoon strips of lives get. This theory is based on the seat of all human endeavour – hope. We hope it will get better in the near future, in the farther future, and if nothing else, in the afterlife. Someday it’s going to get better. With all the faults of organised religion, I think this mantra takes the cake, the baker and the bakery. Coz let’s face it, it does get better.
I am quite content with my life right now. The angst, longing, and sense of vindication are ebbing away. I have to remind myself they were there. Dark episodes of self-doubt, consultation with friends on my mental health, and the crumbling self-confidence are a part of my recent past-life. It’s all clear in memory, how my heart has been split open and how nothing has ever made sense. It still doesn’t, but like Rilke said, I have learnt to love the questions themselves. And I cling on to that eternal hope, it will get better. I truly believe it. And as far as the destruction of my faith goes, believing is a great start.
Which brings me back to patience in this world of click baits. I’ve been wanting to write a list of all the new things I have learnt recently, because wanting to write about how my heart will split open has been done to death. Besides, I have come to realise and almost fully comprehend that your heart bursting out of its seams is the only way to live. And patience has had everything to do with the way I’ve moved forward. Sometimes it has been the patience of watching friends surge ahead and be truly happy for them. Sometimes it has been that of feeling my muscles stretch and pain while they did. Sometimes it has been that of reading poetry in a completely elaborate way than I have previously. All this is compounded by the urgent need in this world for patience and even compassion. I don’t know how many readers I lost back there when I mentioned the bit about the Abrahamic faiths, but that’s who we’re becoming.
When such great unrest occurs in the world, most hold their families close, most others clutch their Holy books, and a whole host of us take our shelter in art, in literature. I’m taking a poetry course, and 5 weeks into it I have superficially noticed how great resurgence has taken place in expression every time mankind has turned its tide. And for that, I am truly and immensely grateful. Those who don’t understand art and literature are the poorest people of all for they have no imagination, no shelter, no patience, and least of all tolerance for this great game called life. We’re all under immense duress and we’re all supplied with infinite wonder. Our lives are a constant journey of overcoming this dread with wonder. All else is a filler. That’s how it has always been. And hopefully, that’s how it will always be.