(Belief - Understanding) = Faith

Sometimes when I walk into a church I feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. I hear the blessings and the praises, I even sing along to these beautiful songs, but I look around wondering, trying to understand this faith that I have heard about for so long, living in function of it for most of my life - it is distressing. It's like this cornerstone upon which I built my decisions, my conduct, my ethics and moral values, and sometimes I look at it, and I just can't understand it. I can't make sense of it.
Most of the time I just swallow it, smile and when other people in the church ask how I am, I speak as I always have, in hope that these coals, suffocated by doubt, burning so coldly in my heart may come back to life. So far, they always have, and I came out of these dim, heavy times knowing something new, or simply revisiting something I had forgotten.
However, I have learnt to appreciate the times of questions, of doubt. I have found even in ordinary studies that questions only come when you really are trying hard to understand something, and you have started to understand enough to have questions.
So far, I have come to understand many things through my questions - and that was great. I felt myself growing, and more curious about God, my faith, and how this affected history, science and relationships. But sometimes, I find things that I just don't understand. Either in the Bible, or in the whole mechanics of salvation, or even a reason for him to love us (I have spent a considerable amount of time trying to understand this, and most of the time I just come up empty handed finding that love is probably not meant to be understood at all). I pray about my doubts, my questions, I talk to people I consider much wiser than myself trying to work through them.
But today, as I was praying, as I was trying to understand some things about what the Bible says (and understand what of God's character I could get from it), I hit a dead end, I hadn't enough information and I simply could not understand. I prayed asking God that I would understand this, simply because I wanted to believe it, and I could not imagine believing something without understanding it.
Then I thought of something, I thought of one of the first questions I asked God: Why did you go through the trouble of putting me in the world? Well, technically, according to science, I should not exist. It was years of a praying sister (7, to be more precise), and much faith on her behalf that from a sterile mother and a father with difficulty to have children that somehow, I sprang into existence. I made the doctor cry when he did the ultrasound and found a beating heart, and he said to my mom "If you believe in God, thank him, because I cannot explain this".
And I thought, I do not understand how that happened - I don't know the mechanics, how it was that in scientifically impossible circumstances I came to be. Nevertheless, I have not for a moment had reason to not believe that I existed, even if I did not understand how that happened.
Sure, one could argue and say that I have had plenty of evidence that I exist, and I didn't really have that reassurance with God. But then I stop and think of the 'rational' evidence: the Bible, a document with entire family trees, with dates, with absurd details like measurements, numbers, all listed as a historical account of the events. Prophets whose words have proved to be true centuries later. Four separate testimonies accounting for the same period of time - and people who saw Jesus, reported this and were all willing to die for this that they had seen. The Bible has proven itself, and has presented evidence rationally.
What was my problem then? And so I realised, I was entirely rationally convinced. My mind understood all these things to be true, but these things are too large to be grasped.
And then I remembered, the familiar feeling that I have when studying natural sciences: that overwhelming feeling of something being so, so big that it could not be understood. Unlike engineerings and computer sciences, for example, that are the study of things that humans invented and, though very complex, can be comprehended, what guarantees that we have not invented the world is that fact that we don't understand all of it. There still are things out of our reach and out of our control: and that is what Christianity is about as well. There are questions. There are things that we don't understand. And that is because we have not invented it - it is because it is so much larger than our minds can grasp that we doubt, and it is because we doubt that what we are asked for is not to have understanding: but to have faith.

Easter thoughts

Our generation seems to be somewhat of a paradox. We are constantly being told that we are the most important thing in the world, that we have to be happy, and other people don't matter. Then you turn on the radio. While half of the time they're singing about love, happy endings and about how they'd do anything to find the right person, how they can't help falling in love... the other half of the time is dedicated to singing about purely physical, lustful relationships with meaning as deep as a teaspoon - dehumanising entirely the other person. The worst is when there is an attempt to overlap both and say that this physical transient physical proximity is what love is. I keep thinking: is all this motivated by the other or by the self? By the need to love, or the undeniable need to feel loved? 

The only thing I can think of, when I see singers singing about such things in such sexually appealing clothes with tons of makeup and CG to have the right cheekbones, the fine face, the muscley (but not too muscley) body, no flab, no flaws (and no human factor about them at all), the only thing I can think of is something C.S.Lewis said in Mere Christianity: 

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Let me explain with an example from cognition and behavioural neuroscience. Suppose we had stomachs but there was no food in the world. We would spend our lives starving, looking for what would take that pain away. It's our behaviour, we are wired to do two things when hungry:

(1) We are motivated to seek food, work for it; 

(2) Once we find food, we are then motivated to consume it. 

Our brains have complex circuitry giving us this behaviour and rewarding us when we do this, and we are 'rewarded' also by our brain when we complete the task, that is why we keep doing this. 

So, when I see people seeking for something to fulfil this desire in them - some may seek physical pleasure without commitment, others seek love or platonic idea of love our society says we should seek and find, I do not see what they are doing, but I see that there is this desire, this motivation, this drive. In the metaphor, I do not see their seeking for food behaviour - I see a society made mostly of empty stomachs. 

However, at the same time we have increasing mood disorders pointing to the fact that our wiring is going wrong: depression, maniac depression, anxiety, all these things are increasing and becoming very debilitating, having a high social cost. So I can't help but think: what if we are seeking in the wrong place to fulfil our need and desire? Why is it that at the end of the day we are all chasing sunsets, chasing meaning in these things that end up being cyclical - after every love song comes a break up song, and then another love song. We seek, we fail, we seek again. What if we are just trying to distract ourselves from the true pain and need in what we really were wired for? 

What if the love we seek is nothing but a mirror, a dream of the love we were made for? 

A month or so ago I purchased for myself a book called The little book of love, a small book with quotes and thoughts about love that I got because I wanted to have a quote a day to think and mull over as I went about my daily activities to try to be less centred on myself and more on others. Today my quote was as follows: 

"Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."

- Rumi

That is what Christianity is about. Actually, that is what today, Easter is about. The news of the Gospel, all that we believe, is that we are already loved. We needn't seek any further, we needn't try to do absolutely anything to be loved. We already are. 

Yesterday I heard someone talking about a newborn nephew and saying "He isn't much good for anything yet, you know. He just cries, and wants to be with people and taken care of, and only really thinks about himself." But still, the family cares for him and loves him - even though he really hasn't done anything good. This is how we are loved by our heavenly Father: though still self-centred, though still foolish, and crying, and begging him to care for us, and seeking love and approval elsewhere, he still loves us. 

He loves us so much, he would die for us - or better, he did. Because he is infinitely just, he could not ignore all our wrongs. But because he is infinitely loving, he payed the debt himself, with his Son's life because the Son chose to love the Father and love us altogether. 

I know, it may be hard to wrap your head around it (most of the time my difficulty is not in understanding the mechanics of it, rather it is in understanding what would motivate him to do something like this for us, these self centred silly little beings pottering about hurting other little beings) - but that is just one of the many ways we have to take down the barriers of logic, of selfishness, of narcissism that we have built against this awesome love. 

Maybe then we can truly respond to this love (not out of fear), but with love too. Maybe then, we can seek the other, not to fulfil our desires, but in response to the fact our deepest desire to be accepted and loved already has. Maybe, like this we can truly learn to serve the other - not out of need, but out of choice. And choose, like Jesus did a couple of thousand years ago, to sacrifice what we want in favour of others. Just then, maybe we can start to get our love songs right. 

The innermost garden

Sometimes I have the impression our hearts are like little gardens. We come into the world with soil - which may be more fertile or less - empty, waiting, waiting to become something, for something to grow in them. 

During the first few years, our basic structure of morals and values is planted by our families and those closest to us - they tell us what they think should or should not be in this garden. They can help us plant good things, destroy ivy and parasites that may come in, or sometimes - intentionally or not - they can do the opposite: killing out good things that begin to grow, or failing to assist us in taking away whatever destructiveness may begin to grow. With time, we begin to care for our own garden as we see fit according to our opinions, to what we are taught, to what we learn. We usually tend to put ourselves in the centre of the garden and do as we please around it. 

The thing about Christianity, is that it has a great deal of pulling out some things that have roots very strongly attached to our hearts - and that is a very discouraging process. When we invite God into our lives we think that he will be a gardner that will do the usual pulling out of ivies, put fresh earth and nutrition for all that is there, and we very often imagine we can decide which flowers or trees stay there and just tell him what we want and he'll do it. 

Therefore, when he first walks in and we see tree after tree being pulled out, put somewhere else, flowers and roots being mercilessly plucked, we find our hearts to be somewhat a desolate and miserable scenery.  We are no longer in the centre.
Our passions, our objectives, our needs and our wants are many times relocated. We are no longer the centre, neither are any of those things. Some things have to be removed and burned all together - others must only be put in a different way so as to not take over. We are not to spend much time attending one thing or another may die, we must be attentive and careful with every virtue and blessing, every passion and piece of life and beauty our garden has been presented with - but never allowing it to overthrow the heart or the spirit. It must serve its purpose in the entire organic composition being made, but it must be tamed.

“Purity does not mean crushing the instincts but having the instincts as servants and not the master of the spirit.”
― Eric Liddell

The thing is, he does not do this on his own and just starts overturning everything - he asks for us not only to allow him do this, but he asks for our participation in doing this. Now, here is where the gardening is somewhat different than one might imagine an employed gardener: it is more like a father gardening with his child. We can't really do much to assist in the process, but we do participate and little by little he goes teaching us what things can stay, what things can go and -nearly as important as that - is where in our lives they can stay. 

Our reason for being in the garden is no longer to serve ourselves, but to spend time with him learning what to do and how to do it. Little by little, the chaos of parasites and ivy gives way to a flourishing system bursting with beauty and life. We begin to learn to listen rather than speak, and we learn to place priorities in our lives in a way to thrive with life rather than be controlled by anything. One thing interacts to sustain the other. 

That does not take away the difficulty, and it is not a steadily increasing beauty. It is difficult, and it needs work done in it all the time - or before you know it other unwanted little plants will become unwanted large plants sucking life out of all that has already grown there. It is not something instant and magical either, it requires steady work and many times the effort put into it will only be seen after many years of patience and persistence - but it is well worth it. 

In the end, it is not well worth it because of the garden itself - though it does have its beauty, and the way it sustains life is wonderfully blessing for all birds and bees, everyone and everything surrounding - it ends up being only a natural consequence from the time spent with the Father learning and growing. In the end, it was not about our lives, our desires, or what we did: it was about Him, and being near him and learning to submit to what he desired. It was about learning that beauty has it's place: in surrounding Him, and not as an end in itself. 

Bible Biology

I am terrible at remembering people's names, but that doesn't mean I don't remember them. I will most likely remember three things about people I meet:

(1) What a person looks like

(2) Which country a person comes from

(3) Which course/profession they are in

(Not necessarily in that order)

I know, I know, it sounds terribly impersonal to remember country/culture of origin and field of interest, but they are the two things I like asking because they give me some sort of background as to how the person thinks, where they come from, and how they interact with the world. I have found that makes conversation much easier and avoids silly mistakes and prevents me from making a fool out of myself sometimes. 

The thing is, what you study is a big deal, especially if you are passionate about it. For example, I am convinced many people find me very annoying when I make random comments that automatically lead conversations into neuroscience and physiology, but it's how I see the world. I have even learnt to see the Bible in a different way because of it, because of some expressions and metaphors it puts. I know that the authors did not know of all the physiology going on when they put the metaphors there,  but I do truly believe that Scriptures are inspired by God - the same God who created every living organism, molecule and transcripted gene.  So I decided to try to put together some things I think about when reading some passages of scripture. 

(Note: some of the references can be seen and studied further in the books by Dr. Paul Brand and Phillip Yancey, Fearfully and wonderfully made and In the image and likeness of God)

Purified by blood

In fact, the law requires that nearly everything be cleansed with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness. 

(Hebrews 9.22)

For many people, the sight of blood is disgusting and alarming - as it should be. Seeing blood most often means that there is something terribly wrong and the situation involves risk in similar proportions to the volume of blood. Also, anyone who has ever tried washing a bloody stain knows how crazy anything being 'cleansed' by blood sounds, and how 'receiving new life from blood' sounds absurd. 

But, for someone who studies even a tiny bit of physiology, that metaphor suddenly makes sense. Blood is designed to carry oxygen to tissues and to carry away toxins and waste products. If blood circulation is cut, toxins will accumulate and the tissues isolated will die - you can test it on yourself, tying something tightly around your arm or finger. Your limb will go prickly and start to go dark, and when you untie it, it will be painful to have blood flooding through the vessels and capillaries again (which also applies to the metaphor, because when you think of what it's like when Jesus comes into our lives and starts 'cleaning it out' and removing sin, it is extremely painful). 

In the end, the only reason why the sight of blood is alarming, is because it has a very necessary function it should be fulfilling inside the body's tissues. Blood cleanses, and blood brings oxygen for normal cell functioning. Blood purifies, and blood brings life. 

...and the two shall become one flesh.

For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one flesh.

(Mark 10.7- 8)

I know, this topic can be very hard to talk about and I won't go into detail, but I will say what I see when I read it: rather than thinking of the uniting, I go the opposite way to understand the importance of the topic and I think of the separating. 

It was only the first time that I walked into an anatomy lab and saw separate limbs from one same body that I understood the gravity and brutality of divorce. Something that once was one, and then is severed, separated from what it used to be part of. It is something unnatural, revolting and that clearly is not the way it was meant to be. 

The body of Christ

12 Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. 13 For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. 14 Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.
15 Now if the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. 16 And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. 17 If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? 18 But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. 19 If they were all one part, where would the body be? 20 As it is, there are many parts, but one body.
21 The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” 22 On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, 23 and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty,24 while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, 25 so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. 26 If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.
27 Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it. 

(1 Corinthians 12)

I could talk about this text all day long, for pages and pages, but I will try to not go into too much detail. 

Being one same body

I love this text because it has a systemic approach of the body to an extent much beyond the medicine of the time Paul wrote this. Now we know how much one part of the body cooperates with another. A body cannot be made only of eyes or only of feet or only of livers. Each organ has a specific function and must do so - and if it does not another organ will be overburdened in compensating - or the body will cease living altogether. Organs need each other, and what one does affects all the others. 

In physiology we like separating systems neatly, but the truth is, we are all just one system composed of many parts working together and keeping track of what is going on. It is both terrifying and beautiful. 

Pain

Pain exists both in the physical and emotional aspect, and in the case of the body of Christ this serves perfectly for the metaphor. When one part of the body suffers, it does not suffer alone. Other cells and parts near it will suffer immediately with inflammation and citokine relesases in the region (resulting in swelling, heat, and, well, pain). Pain is a good thing: it means that the rest of the body must care for that region, and it is a signalling that that part needs protection. And there is much that we can learn from that in the body of Christ: if we see someone else in pain, we will suffer with them and try to assist in healing and protection, not just add onto the fire. 

Also, pain has systemic consequences. Recent studies show that prolonged inflammation, for example, has neurological consequences. When we are one and when we love, we are not immune from pain - we are most likely even more vulnerable to it. 

More or less honoured parts of the body

There are some body organs that receive much attention, such as the brain and heart, which are more 'admirable' in an obvious way. But something I love about the body is the way that some relatively small organs have massive function. The spleen, for example, if ruptured and not cared for can lead to death within few hours, and we cannot live without a liver or kidneys (though nowadays there is hemodialysis). Or even the glands - like the suprarenal glands or the thyroid gland. Mess them up and, boy, you'll see conditions as brutal as Addison's and hyper/hypothyroidism, and you see how the entire body is affected by these seemingly small parts of the body. 

You can, but should you?

"I have the right to do anything," you say--but not everything is beneficial. "I have the right to do anything"--but not everything is constructive.

(1 Corinthians 10.23) 

When I see this text, I think of DNA. I know, a bit far fetched, but bear with me. Every cell in your entire body is made up of the exact same genetic code. That is a lot of information. But, some cells have bucketloads of genes which will never be expressed or genes that will only be expressed very briefly. A cell cannot express all genes at all times if it is to be a healthy and normal cell, it must express only the genes that are beneficial to itself and to all the other cells in the body. There is a 'set of rules' that the cell must live by (or 'commandments'?) we could say, in such a way that it will fulfil what it was made to do and benefit the entire organism. Too bad the set of commandments is much more than just 10. 

To be the head

"And [Jesus] is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy." 

(Colossians 1.18)

Now, again, unpopular topic, I know, BUT I must say that for a neuroscientist to read this, this is rather beautiful to read. Again, I could go on for AGES talking about this, but I will try very hard to speak concisely. 

When I think of head, I think of the Central nervous system, of the Brain and Spinal cord. I think of all the sensory information of every last and tiny cell in the body being sent to the brain and from the brain. I think of massive networks of neurones. I think of communication. I think of cooperation. I think of harmonious, vastly complex and exceedingly difficult to understand phenomena. 

Here is the thing: the brain is the entire time functioning in favour of the rest of the body, and along with the blood, providing communication and unity and harmonious function. The HEAD and the BLOOD (sorry, had to put that in capitols simply because it's too much awesomeness and it makes a lot of the bible make sense). 

So, it is only through the head (Jesus) and through the blood (His blood, to be more precise) that we can be one body and function properly in a coordinated manner. The head joins the information from synapses (why not call them prayers?) and processes the information and produces systemic responses to the information input. 

The funny thing is, it is only through the brain that we can also feel pain - so it also unites us in that, and makes us care for one another as little cells in this body. How amazing is that? And the brain does all that, and feels the pain of all the parts of the body but does not do it for itself - the brain does not have innervation, and in a very poetic way, is 'selfless' and puts its own pain aside in order to feel the pain of others and respond to that. That makes me think of Christ putting aside his pain in leaving the Father, in dying on a cross, in order to save us from what should have been our pain and our death. 

Also, the brain does a lot of things that we don't understand. For example, if you voluntarily decide to stop breathing, you can do that - for some time. When the situation gets critical, your brain kicks in with the autonomous nervous system and makes you go back to breathing weather you like it or not. Therefore, there are many things that Christ, as the head, will do that we will not understand or agree with at the time - but he does it having something much greater in mind. 

The brain is also what makes us who we are in the body. Without it, it is the condition of being brain dead. It is the brain that allows us to empathise, to feel hope, love, joy. That allows us to think and decide. That allows us to be more than a worm or fish. 

So, when I read

"But I want you to realize that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of the woman is man, and the head of Christ is God."

(1 Corinthians 11.3)

I no longer think of an authoritarian point of view: I think of how the man must be the head in the sense that he must protect and make sure the woman is well, cared for and to be in constant communication with her so that together they can keep each other alive and serving one another in the best way possible. 

I could go on for ages, but I'm guessing that's a good start for some Biology in the Bible. Hope you liked it! 

The untameable chain

The other day I caught myself silently protesting within the safeness of my mind the unfairness of the way the world works. In many countries, getting into this or that university depends on sitting that one exam. Getting that job depends on that single interview. So much of our lives relies on these moments, on having a good day, waking up in a good mood, being calm, being... what you are expected to be. How many times have I not thought to myself after a miniature disaster: "If only it had been on another day, one that I hadn't a headache, then..." "If only I had had another day to study, then..." ... then I would have been ready to take on life. 

The problem is, life isn't like that.

She's independent.

She's wild.

She can't be tamed.

And even if it were another day, we would have no more control over that hypothetical day than the one when things actually did happen. In the end, we would be at the mercy of circumstances and situations, be them ideal or not. Romantic or absolutely tragic. Architected in perfection or dodgily unstable.

The thing about this wildness of life, is that we attribute importance to these big, 'decisive' events we have in life (the ones that make us fuss and be nervous, anxious, and goodness knows what else goes on in our little preoccupied brains that try to carry a world too heavy for them), but the thing is... I don't think we should be giving them so much importance. No, no, I'm not saying they are unimportant, not at all. They do change our lives very much. However, they should not be given so much importance because there are other important things as well. 

- An unexpected epiphany -

Not a moment goes by in which you are not, somehow, changed forever. 

Every day. Even the boring days. The dull days.

Spent at home, watching a movie. Or maybe going out with your friends. Nothing is the same, because everything you see, smell and touch; everything you watch or listen to; every conversation you have with a random stranger or a close friend. Every experience parts from you biding farewell to someone different from the person who arrived in the first place. 

That happens because life is a chain of events, and like every chain, every part of it is necessary for the next one to attach to - but the next one is just that bit further forward so as to you never really are where you were before. You are never really who you were before.
Even if we think biologically, cells are dying and being born every moment in you. Things are changing in the universe - energy is being dispersed, spread out. Entropy is increasing. We can never, ever make the universe be exactly as it was before - yet we cling to our illusions that things are somehow the same. They are not. They were not. They cannot be the same. And therefore, if we are to live in this universe and be able to live and adapt, we cannot be the same. We learn, we change. 

Think of something, your favourite band, favourite food, or something that you are terribly afraid of, think of the first time you thought of something that would then become your biggest dream, or think of the person you love most in the world. Do you remember the first time you came into contact with any of these? When you started to like, to fear? When a thought gloriously went through a metamorphosis from a quiet thought to a dream? When you met the person you love most? Sometimes we do, others we don't - but the thing is, it did happen, one impossibly dull and utterly ordinary day; a day you maybe expected nothing from. Some anonymous day that faded into the routine, and you never realised the importance it had, until it already had become important, until that very plain day changed you, your taste, dreams, fears and love forever. Until that day grew into you in fondness or in memory or in fear, and became a part of you - that makes it impossible to think of what it would be like to pull that single link, that single thread of a day that has been woven into your soul so intricately, you can barely see it anymore. 

So, rather than obsessing over these days that seem stamped with importance in title or in content, what if we saw them as another link in the chain that makes up our lives? What if - better still - we got up every morning gloriously remembering how you are not the same person that lay down the night before? Looking in hope rather than fear at all the chances to change, to morph into something more glorious, more beautiful... and so these chains of concerns and worries, hanging from our wrists and binding our feet keeping us from running freely through our days may some day blossom into a beautiful chain of flowers - filled with life, unexpectedness and unique beauty - a beauty that can never be tamed or possessed, the same way a flower cannot live once it has been picked to be owned, but a beauty to be admired in its passing, in its coming and going, in every and any season life presents to us. 

"That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause, you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, or thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day." 

- Charles Dickens, High hopes

Watery "I"s

I stood watching the river silently creep under me. The bridge that held my feet held itself steadily watching the continuous flow, as it always had from it’s early years of existence. The day sighed into twilight, tired of its long shift. 
There’s something about rivers and something about bridges that always get me. It’s like there’s this secret signature in my soul that makes me look at a river plundering on and feel like I have something in common with it, this silent bond of mutual understanding: always going somewhere, carrying bits and pieces from the past trying to get somewhere and not being really sure where ‘somewhere’ is. 
I like rivers. But I can’t hold them. 
I identify with them. And that’s why I am content to let them be rivers. 

Sometimes people get crazy ideas and try to reroute artificially a river - usually not a great idea. Sometimes they try to hold them in, or take in their energy. But trying to hold a river in seems wrong, seems somehow like a sin, like taking away it’s identity and trying to make it into something it is not - and so pressure builds, and builds, until the slightest crack in a dam is enough for it to insistently dig in until it can make it’s way out, to be the river it was to be in the first place. 
Some people are lakes, and are easily contained - and if you try to make them into a river, they will just dry up. Others are rivers, and if you try to contain them, pressure will build until it bursts. They need to find a sea to spill into, and lose themselves in. Others are rain that falls soft upon fields, silently but surely. Others are a mad storm that pours and then never comes back. 
The thing is: each person is one way, and you can either take them how they are, or you can try to mould and shape them to what you want - but that’s robbing them of their identity, of what they are to be. 
I like the idea that people are like water because we need water to live, and most of us is made from this exogenous molecule that is constantly being substituted in our bodies. 

- An utterly unromantic digression - 

Technically, the person you love most in the world is 72.8% water.  

We need it to live, and to survive, and it comes from all sorts of origins and end up making us who we are. But, at the same time, you can’t hold water in your hands, it cannot be contained by frail fingers. It slips, it flees and flows. It comes in the form that it comes - from a chuckling river, patient lake, wild ocean, and we can take it or leave it, and no more can be done. We can drink it in and let it be part of us, or we can leave it altogether. But we can’t hold it, or save it for later. We can’t take all of it in at once, or it would kill us - we take little by little. It goes changing us, and becomes part of us. Sometimes, we come back for more and drink a person in, and they keep becoming more and more of us - but that requires the effort to come back to the source. 
Love is letting the lake be a lake and a river be a river, and be content in doing so because you know that trying to make them into anything else would rob them of their identity. Sometimes, in love, more important than knowing when to hold on, is knowing when to let go. Let the river take its course.

“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them” ― Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island 

And this is why I like bridges: They connect, and they bring together, without interruption. You can be near the river, you can practically be on the river: have your feet dangling down and touching the water, but never keeping it from being itself. It is a place for meeting, and it is a place of meeting - where two margins meet. It is like margins on a mutual agreement to reach out to one another, letting the river run freely. 

I wish people were more like bridges and less like dams, that they would reach out rather than try to contain. That they would be there, but also let be. But then maybe that’s just me, trying to make a lake into a river. 

Silent revolution

In a society of people that want to be heard, it is a rebellion to be silent. At times, it is easy to find one's self empty of words, just listening to conversation and easily with the mind drifting away in the currents of recent events and just no desire to engage in energetic conversation or display opinions, simply because there is too much to be said. Sometimes the mind is too full to spill out. 

Having an overflowing mind does not translate into lips overflowing with words. Actually, it rarely does do so - and when it does, very seldom they are the right ones. Any word, attempt of communication seems feeble and insufficient and childish. It is when our minds fill that we find how foolish we are to think that words are the best means of communication for all kinds of knowledge, documents, letters, news, emotion. They are simply not good enough.

Rather than giving wings to our imagination, relationships and minds, words are more like cages. 

Some people have the ability to display them eloquently and convey message, meaning and feeling very accurately - but I'm afraid there are very few people gifted to do so. It is those people that dive into reality and into the messiness that spoken language is and know how to translate one to the other.  Those are the people with equal power to love the world, start a revolution or start a war. Those are the people burdened with eloquence, with the responsibility of holding one of the most effective ways to encourage, to change the world or to destroy it with the deadly ammunition that words prove themselves to be. Words are cages, and clumsy, but if handled wisely they can soothe or pierce the soul with equal surprising accuracy in both restoration and destruction. 

However, though words hold such great power, they may be overrated proportionally to how much silence is underrated. I like to think that the fact that silence can so easily be uncomfortable is the indicator that silence can be much more accomplished than any amount of words in relationships. It is only the closest and the dearest that are perfectly content to be side by side sharing silence. It is a gift that develops with time and recognition that what exists between people goes beyond all eloquence and words. Henri Nouwen puts it in an interesting way: 

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."

Silence comes along also with introspection and fullness of mind and of heart in the perception that not all the language in the world would be enough to convey what is in a person. At best, it would be insufficient.

Of course, this is not taking away merit of communication and how much words aid us in engaging with each other, but I believe they are far from being the best and most efficient in doing so. It takes a great deal of skill and of talent to say the right words in the right way, in the right time. However, most things can be communicated most effectively with no words at all. The same universe inside each human being that we get a glimpse to through every word, we see it much more honestly and less edited through actions and gestures. What one does does not depend on one's opinion or image of one's self, it is the closest to their soul that we may get. 

Words can much more easily be deceiving and dependent on what a person wishes to convey of themselves, rather than what we actually are. 

A beautiful speech is absolutely useless if it is not lived out, however no speech at all is necessary when all the messages are translated into life and reality through actions and behaviour. A leader who inspires people to follow without the need of using eloquence and fancy statements will be followed much more faithfully, because he lives out rather than speaking out. 

When a parent yells to a child saying "You cannot yell to people!", which will be most engrained in their brain: the words, or the action? What use is it to say eloquent verses of admiration or say beautiful promises that one does not intend to keep when this same love and admiration cannot be observed in what is done? How can we live with contradictions between the words and all that is said in silence? How do two people, two clashing images - the one in speeches and the one in reality - fit in one? Most of the time, it just doesn't make sense. It's messy. It's contradictory and schizophrenic. Which is why, many times disposing of words can be the most honest thing one can do. 

Ultimately, I think what I am trying to say - in a surprisingly ironic and contradictory way - is: 

Words are futile for anything worth being said.