Homo dividuus

There is a strange species of half people in the world nowadays, Homo dividuus. There's something missing in their eyes, there's a feeling of longing hanging from their shoulders of what they left behind. Sometimes you talk to them and wonder if they are all there with you; if you ask them, they will gladly tell you about where their other half was lost, but you have to ask. They may be surprised and with a glint in their eyes of saudade ask: "Do you really want to know?" You might learn of foreign cultures, names you never imagined, foods you never tasted. These people are stories, but they are also story tellers. Give them your ears, and they might give you a piece of their hearts.

It’s hard to be the half human, the one that got away. To be made of mismatched pieces from all over the globe. To not be the one scheduling the next meeting in the pub, the next movie or coffee - but the next Skype chat. To be the one getting souvenirs, not presents. To be the one sending a card instead of being at the wedding, the birthday party, the visit at the hospital. The one interrupted by bad internet connections.

When you leave, you learn to live of stories told rather than lived events; you also become a story teller, because much of the time, that’s all you are. Whenever people ask of you, you’re just the story you managed to conjure enough courage to tell - the pretty picture, not the struggles, the everyday fight to be alone away from home, trying to find out where ‘home’ exactly is.

Your family doesn’t know anything about your routine, where you live, where you work. Actually, no one does: just you know where you came from, where you are. Your new best friends, when you tell people back home about them, become names that all seem to blend together in a mess of impersonal sounds, surnames and occupations. You want to tell the stories so that they come alive, so that they know you and your new friends as you do - but you fail. So much is just names. How do you put a life into a 40 minute talk? Into a two paged long letter? You can’t. The emphasis you gave was the wrong one, the one was not accurate, and you start to wonder if anyone really does know you. Heck, you’re changing so much even you don’t know you.

Suddenly, no one else knows about your quirks and routines - you live amongst strangers. You have no one to talk to in a nostalgic tone, and if your friends are also in that situation, you all learn to enjoy what is happening now; to have the late night conversations that bring together everything you’re scared to share with others, because the world suddenly seems so foreign. Maybe you venture to tell old stories to each other, but they don’t quite know where you came from. It doesn’t come across as sad as it was, or as funny as it was.

The ones you left expect, and the ones you are with too. The ones you left all feel you ought to be the one coming after them - after all, it was you who left, right? They are convinced your new life still revolves around the things you left. They assume your time away has been in a time capsule and that nothing will have changed. And then when you go back, they have to get to know you all over again.

You do not love what you left any less, but it’s hard to get that across. You wanted to be at the party, take flowers to the hospital personally than send a stupid e-mail. You wanted to actually attend the meeting and have a conversation having a drink of coffee or after a night out in the pictures, instead of struggling with internet connections sitting in your room frustrated.

The thing is, you can’t hold onto things as you used to when you were there: if not, you aren’t really there or here. We live here, and we do our best to show we still think of the ones far away, but technology isn’t magic. In the end, are we ever in only one place - mind, body, soul - at once anymore?

We try, honest we do. But we’re torn people, us, the ones that left. We never feel we’re good enough daughters or sons, we’re not great friends, because everywhere we go, everything we do, there’s just half of us there. Every person we meet, we hand a part of us to them, and we will only be with that missing part when we are with that person: and so we are damned to never be whole. The price of flying is being broken. The price of leaving is never being good enough for everyone. It hurts and it breaks us that much more every time we disappoint someone, whenever we forget a postcard, email or letter.

And there’s nothing more we can do about it, because we have no home anymore. We can’t forget any of our homes, we don’t have - nor want - selective amnesia. We wouldn’t change it even if we could, because all those we meet, all that we lived, it helped to break us into who we are - and that’s what love does, it breaks us for others. And is there any way to love more than to give away who we are? Our time, thoughts, feelings? No, we wouldn’t. Because when we left, we lost, but we also gained. We lost part of ourselves, but we also were given parts of more people more amazing than we could imagine. We learn that the world doesn't revolve around us, and that doing our best will just have to be enough.

The wings we are given can't carry all that we are, but sometimes half is all we need - it leaves plenty of room for what we're given overseas. 

Still heroes

I knew that being around Parkinsonian patients would be a new and somewhat distressing experience - I had no idea how I would handle it - but in part that was one of the reasons why I decided to go to the Parkinson’s Patient conference: to watch, to learn, to get in touch with reality. I don’t want to be a researcher that only researches for facts and publishable data, I want to have a reason for what I do, so I decided to try to dive into the reality of the people that live every day with the condition I am currently studying and researching treatment for.

Needless to say, it was heartbreaking to see this. To see the lack of expression in patients (the mask-like face is a symptom), the tremor, the slow speech, the freezing and difficulty in moving. But more than that, seeing the carers of the patients - many of which were hard, and probably they had to be so to survive in their situation. These are people - mostly spouses - whose lives were put on hold to live up to the promise ‘in sickness and in health’ ,that twenty years or so ago they walked down the aisle in glamorous garments to make. A life that would be marked by loss - even if not of life, but of freedom, of support, and of receiving love. People that have to find strength from the crumbs of what is left at the end of another day doing everything for someone else, strength to go on to the next day that will be equally draining, exhausting.

There was one couple in particular, however, that captured me; they laughed and smiled an awful lot together. Even though he had very, very impaired speech, she could still understand what he said and translate it to whoever was talking to him - jokes included. He laughed and made a point of doing on his own all he could. She smiled even talking about the hard things, and I saw the strength that no hollywood movie hero has ever displayed in any single blockbuster. A wonder woman, with kids, with a disabled husband, who still found strength for joy. It was heartbreaking but encouraging at the same time. I saw a hero.

That night, I came home having all the patients, the stories and the tears they shed talking running through my mind. People that have lost and are continually losing more everyday, either by symptom, or because people avoid them due to not knowing how to handle talking to someone in such condition. They not only lose health - they lose friends, family, careers. Very selfishly, the fear of someday being in such a condition, in either of the two positions - of the patient or the carer - was overwhelming as I prayed and thought about these souls I met.

The next day, I went to the Titanic Experience. A place that talks about the Titanic, from being built to the dreadful end. As I went in, I was assigned a passenger as was my boyfriend, and at the end we were to find out at the end if we would survive or not. As we walked in and saw the Heartbreak pier, where many families left the country, many people left all they knew to immigrate, and at the end sat in a replica of one of the life boats of the Titanic and watched a projection of the enormous ship, big enough for 4,000 people breaking and sinking - thinking of the 1,500 lives that were there, lost, frozen, drowned. In the end, my assigned passenger - who by coincidence was about my age, leaving her home country to make a life abroad - survived, was saved in one of the life boats. Jonathan’s passenger, also his exact age - which hit very close to home - was lost at sea. I thought about the passengers, the families, the loved ones.

Having all this frailty in mind made this week a somewhat disillusioning experience, but not in a bad way at all - literally, a freeing from illusion. I thought about the frailty of life here on earth, about how often we fool ourselves to think that we will not be the odd point in the statistics - the one with a diagnosis of Parkinson’s, Alzheimer, ALS. We will not be the ones on the sinking ship or crashing airplane. Those are places only for numbers - not for real people with real names, lives and dreams like you and me, right? Those are things for headlines, not for life changing (or ending) events for us, our family, friends or neighbours.

At the end of the day, as I saw my brazilian Valentine’s day timeline on Facebook - with extensive cute pictures of engagements, weddings, dinners and dates, promises of unending love, and even wedding invitations I could not help but quote in my mind the movie The princess bride upon the abundant overuse of the word Love: “You keep saying that word, but I do not think you know what it really means.”

I wonder if we were reminded that we are not untouchable, if our promises would be the same. If we didn’t feel young, healthy and filled with ambitious dreams, promises of “sickness and health, better or worse, in wealth or poverty” would still be the same. If we knew the darkness and ugliness of poverty, loss, pain, illness - if we knew what fate awaited us, would we still put our feet onto that ship sailing away from the last port of call?

Maybe we would, maybe that is one thing that is right about love - it is naïve enough to believe it can keep promises that otherwise would be unimaginable; or, perhaps more correctly, it is wise enough to know it can keep difficult promise regardless of feeling, but by choice.

Lastly, all these thoughts brought me to think of the one who is love. God.

It made me think of a verse that kept me going this week, “Be still and know that I am God”.

The original word “still” on the hebrew manuscripts for this text does not mean just stoping and taking a rest: It means allowing yourself to be weak, it means letting go completely and knowing you cannot do it. We need to know that he is God, and by knowing he is God, we are not trying to be God ourselves - we know that we are weak, that we are not untouchable. We know that our brains can stop, our ships can sink and that we cannot fix everything according to what we want - because we are just human. But that does not mean we stop, we through in the towel - it means we work, in spite of our weakness, knowing that there is One who truly is strong as we wish we were, wiser and more loving than we can even imagine.

Though we do not understand what He is doing many times - and most of the time have a very different opinion as to what He should do, it means the heavy burdens are no longer ours to bear, but his. We do what we can with what he have, trusting there is meaning in all the mess. And, in the end, even in our frailty, we can be a hero - even if silent, anonymous and that had no plaques, busts or even a name remembered - still, we are capable of extraordinary things. Through the strength that God gives us in true love, we can keep unkeepable promises, sacrifice our dreams to honour our loved one, or even sacrifice everything for a complete stranger and give them our spot on the last safety boat. Then, in his strong hands, even our weakness can be of extraordinary strength.






A note: I do fully understand these are just random thoughts, most likely excessively theoretical of someone very inexperienced to talk about most things here mentioned; I also understand that within 5, 10 or 20 years I will probably find most of this, at least naïve, if not plain stupid, but... well, you came into the blog (aka, graffitti with punctuation) at your own risk! Thanks for bearing with my thoughts thus far!

The excuse of feeling

Arranged weddings, working in a certain occupation not by choice or talent, doing things simply because they have to be done. The horror. The horror of the thought of doing things - living life - due to need, convention or just because things are like that, not because of feeling. Unimaginable. Not living your life ‘to be happy’, is inconceivable.

However, when we put thought into it, the idea of living life governed by feeling, passion, interest, motivated by happiness is something relatively new in human history. So many times occupation was determined by heritage, marriage was determined by business, even death was determined by war, freedom has only come by bloodshed.

In order for us to ‘be free’ of many of these responsibilities - for there to be freedom, peace, human rights, for people to choose their spouses, many social conventions were fought against by very brave people who most likely sacrificed their own happiness, freedom, place in society of even their lives in hope that generations to come would find what they sought. They were motivated by rational decisions that saw much further ahead and that ambitioned good for more than just themselves.

Our thankfulness to this has been pitiful, at best.


When comparing previous generations to the current ones, it seems we have been raised to be ridiculously spoilt and unbearably selfish. In the same logic of a father trying to give to his child ‘all that he has never had’, previous generations have given us much that we have never had - and in this process we have never learnt what the response ‘no’ is, we have never learnt to take up the burden of responsibility, duty and honour carried by our ancestors. They tried to protect us from the world, and in the process failed to prepare us for it.

We are now used to the naïve (if not stupid) idea that we can do whatever we want, we must chose what will satisfy ourselves rather than the community/family/social context. We have been taught that our sole parameter to be consulted and referenced in decision making and attitude are emotions.

In this, our emotional intelligence seems to be that of a toddler, and a spoilt one at that. So many times we see people breaking promises, cheating, lying and hurting other people using emotion as an excuse for it.
“I’m sorry I lied and cheated, I just don’t feel the same as when we started going out. I don’t love you anymore.” - the perfect excuse in every ‘romantic’ movie in which cheating is involved, only it is sugarcoated by feeling. It’s ok for you to hurt someone else, as long as you feel happy now. Or so says media, anyway.

The thing is, if it is merely emotion and instinct, instant reward that governs us, what is there left to make us into families, into communities? How to we reach out when we only ever learnt to look into ourselves?

Psychological phenomena such as depression, social anxiety and loneliness come as no surprise in these contexts. Obviously, if told by our surroundings that we should be entirely happy all the time with every single thing we do (and having this thrown in our faces by social media portraying perfect lives), upon finding life also involves responsibility and contrary circumstances (from doing the dishes to bereavement), we panic. There must be something wrong with us - we aren’t living life right.

We were told that if we followed our hearts and our feelings, everything would go right and we would be happy, well then why is it not working with me? What is wrong with me or my life? Do I need more feeling - and thus resort to medication and drugs in seeking pleasure like this? Do I need more people to have feelings for - and thus must be famous? Maybe if I had more money and more brand things I would have less responsibility, and have extra time to ‘feel happy’.

The trouble is, whatever durable happiness in our lives, does not result from feelings or magical events coming after ‘following one’s hear’ , there is no instant formula.

Most of life comes from rational decision making, otherwise we are overwhelmingly susceptible to circumstances and those emotionally unstable and easily swayed, and the very notion of anything durable and long lasting being crushed by the fact we do not have control over life. Otherwise, upon realising we have no control over life… we break. And we find ourselves alone, because following our emotions we carelessly and stupidly burnt every single bridge behind us when moving onwards to where our hearts lead.

My intention in writing this is not to be hypocritical and point fingers and say everyone is wrong by seeking happiness - I do it, and many times have done so selfish and stupidly. I am glad to be able to pursue a career I feel I have aptitude to do, and am very thankful for the fact I was not married off at 15 years old due to an arranged marriage between my father and someone else. What I am saying is that it seems we have gone to the opposite side of the spectrum of abusing freedom to the extent to invade other people’s freedom and well being. From a very strict and structurally unyielding system, we have gone towards excessive choice and overwhelming expectations. I most certainly do not propose returning to what was, but finding a mature balance between both.


I do not think it to be a trivial shift, and it’s like humanity itself is growing up like a person: beforehand we expected to be told what to do, and now like reckless teenagers are doing anything we want because we think we are very grown up and can decide for ourselves, and now and again stop to wonder if it was that bad having someone helping us to do things, and if the excessive freedom is good.

I do hope, however, that the tendency will be freedom without injury of others, that there will be choice, but that there will be wisdom and love - not the kind of love you wait to magically feel, but the kind that you decide. The kind that you choose to live as though you love others and care for them, even if you don’t. Using your freedom wisely, not only for selfish ambition of happiness. And one day, you might actually find yourself actually loving others - and might find the happiness of the other is also yours. All resulting from decision: not from feeling. Maybe then, by choosing wisely, we will be honouring the sacrifices done by our ancestors: then, maybe someday, we won't need any more excuses at all.

The following

follow

ˈfɒləʊ/

verb

gerund or present participle: following

1. go or come after (a person or thing proceeding ahead); move or travel behind; go after (someone) in order to observe or monitor them; strive after; aim at; go along (a route or path); (of a route or path) go in the same direction as or parallel to (another); trace the movement or direction of.
2. come after in time or order; happen after (something else) as a consequence; be a logical consequence of something; (of a person) do something after (something else); have (a dish or course) after another or others during a meal.
3. act according to (an instruction or precept); conform to; act according to the lead or example of (someone); treat as a teacher or guide.
4. pay close attention to; take an active interest in or be a supporter of; (of a book, film, programme, etc.) be concerned with or trace the development of; track (a person, group, or organization) by subscribing to their account on a social media website or application; understand the meaning or tendency of (a speaker or argument).
5. practise (a trade or profession); undertake or carry out (a course of action or study).

Following is a word we hear an awful lot in church, that's why I decided to look for the actual meaning of it, the definition. I wanted to know: what exactly is Jesus asking when he asks us to leave the world and what we are doing to follow him? And what does it mean to say yes to that? 

Mostly when we do say we will follow him, I think we imagine having the company throughout life and our endeavours of this miracle maker, this genie to grant us all our wishes. I know, I know, we very hardly say so: we say that we would never deny him, that we will follow him anywhere. So let's look at the definition more closely: 

1. go or come after (a person or thing proceeding ahead); move or travel behind; go after (someone) in order to observe or monitor them; strive after; aim at; go along (a route or path); (of a route or path) go in the same direction as or parallel to (another); trace the movement or direction of.

Following means not coming first, and it means not making decisions for ourselves. This clashes directly with the idea in our society that we are the ones making decisions about ourselves, and that being happy is our top priority - and therefore, you should only do things that make you happy. Then this counter-cultural view presents itself: The religion of those who chose to leave their autonomy to discover a new identity in Christ. 

2. come after in time or order; happen after (something else) as a consequence; be a logical consequence of something; (of a person) do something after (something else); have (a dish or course) after another or others during a meal.

Understanding we are not a cause for anything, but we resign to be a consequence of God's creation and interaction with the world. This is what our entire existence becomes: a consequence of love. Not only do we follow, but we believe that without him, we would not exist at all. 

3. act according to (an instruction or precept); conform to; act according to the lead or example of (someone); treat as a teacher or guide.

Following means changing to act according to what we see, to what we hear, to what we are taught. Learning is hard, and many mistakes are made while learning most concepts. Sometimes we forget, even after we learn, and have to revisit the most basic concepts. It means understanding that, well... you don't understand. It is resigning to be an eternal student in a world of self-professed post-docs. 

4. pay close attention to; take an active interest in or be a supporter of; (of a book, film, programme, etc.) be concerned with or trace the development of; track (a person, group, or organization) by subscribing to their account on a social media website or application; understand the meaning or tendency of (a speaker or argument).

It means looking out more than into yourself, your priority is now to see what happens in the world and what is coming from the interaction of the One you are following and the rest of the world, and finding out which way is best to respond to that - and, as a consequence of the previous items, the response isn't what you think is best. 

5. practise (a trade or profession); undertake or carry out (a course of action or study).

You know when you take up a profession how much it changes you? People see you by your profession, and your profession changes you and the way you think and approach the world too. It's not just something you are on the side, it's something that changes who you are all the time. It's something you carry out all the time. Christianity does that too, it changes the way you see God, other people and yourself. It rearranges so as to make you not conform with the ego-selling context we are inserted into, it transforms your mind and it becomes not only something for sundays or holidays. 

As I saw a friend being baptised this week, a song was being sung: a song that someone one day in India was singing, as he and all of his family were executed because of their faith. 

"I have decided to follow Jesus, 

No turning back, no turning back

The cross before me, the world behind me,

No turning back, no turning back

Though none come with me, still I will follow

No turning back, no turning back." 

I think of how many times I sing these words or say beautiful verses without thought of the implications in real life of these things. Sure, it's beautiful to hear or to say. But is it beautiful to live everything that may come from this? Is it easy? I like to believe there is beauty in self resignation, however hard it may be. 

"Is it true? Is it worth it?" I sometimes wonder. Then I think of the first 12 that were called to follow - 10 of them were executed (crucified, crucified upside down, sawed in half, burnt to death...), one committed suicide after putting himself before whom he followed and the last remaining died in exile. One might argue that that is proof as to why it is not worth it - but I think if they knew Jesus, and walked with him everyday for 3 years, listened to his words, saw how he lived, and believed to the point of suffering and death, well then they did believe - and they could have been the ones with most arguments against, these were witnesses with first hand accounts. And they thought it was worth it.
Perhaps I am a fool, most likely most times I will not have the faith or strength to live it - but hopefully one day I have found to follow through with the words spoken to another king, but that could very well be spoken to the Heavenly one:

"As surely as the Lord lives, and as my lord the king lives, wherever my lord king may be, whether it means life or death, there will your servant be." 

2 Samuel 15.21

Time-marks

Today is DNA's birthday - well, it's official date for discovery, actually. It's a funny day when I think of it - but due to a much more personal note, I find it to be funnier than most people might find (however science-y they are), because it reminds me of a DNA day two years ago which, weather I like it or not, changed me forever. 

/ / Beware: sentimental nonsense is contained in this post and may be unbearably uninteresting / /

Exactly 2 years ago I was with a friend of mine walking through one of Brazil's top universities for a symposium on biology; both of us simultaneously struggling with our personal ghosts and demons hovering over us due to recent events that had struck us separately. We both wanted to be away from large groups, and didn't really want to talk about anything in particular, which meant we were fine company for each other for having ice cream and coxinhas (a brazilian food best described as drops of heaven and happiness, according to him) and loathing the world and existence. 

That week I did what I usually do when upset or troubled: I drowned my sorrows in knowledge and books (that was when I read the entire Harry Potter series within not much time). Though I only had 2 weeks of holidays between one semester and another, I spent one of them watching talks, lectures, presentations about several topics in biology because, what soothes the soul like brains, right?.

That was where I heard my first Neuroscience lecture, it was given by a Brazilian neuroscientist, Suzana Herculano. Needless to say, I loved it. After the lecture, I mustered in me all the courage I didn't know I had to talk to her - not for a picture, like everyone, to really talk. I remember walking away from the conversation with a bursting feeling in my chest words can't really describe, having the biggest grin spread across my face as I walked away. I had asked her about wether it was a possibility for me to go into Neuroscience from Biomedical Engineering. She said yes, explained ways to do so briefly in a conversation that lasted no more than a few seconds, but it was enough. I couldn't suppress the largest smile I had given in weeks. I went back home, delighted and enlightened by a flicker of hope that things could get better. 

Now when I think of it, I had spent ages in the Hogwarts world to try to get away from the real world, I did that with all the talks - on obesity, addiction, evolutionary neuroscience - obsessing over knowledge, facts that could be grasped, understood...trying to just think of other things. 

This past week, ironically, I realise I just revisited the Hogwarts world watching some movies with friends - the rest of the time of the week, I spent studying all those same things from the talks to depth because, apparently Herculano was right and I could study neuroscience - and that hope was all that I needed to try to pursue something I discovered later to be a passion. Except that now, though one might say I am doing the same things, something is different, something changed. I'm doing these things to enjoy reality, to dive into it. watching movies to celebrate friendship - not forget the real world. Studying science to understand the world and it's functioning - not to shut it out or try to tame it. It seems the same, but everything is different. 

It was a week that changed me, though I only realise it now. They were dark days that brought me to where I am and led me to what I am becoming. My friend too, he is out there in the world living his dreams and we are sitting on opposite sides of the globe and wondering how our lives ended up as they are.

Those were days that all I needed was a spark to ignite something I didn't even know I had in me. I just needed a little hope in the middle of the mess I had gotten myself into. And that hope was enough for me to know that even if I had to go through all of it again to be able to get to where I am, I wouldn't think twice. 

(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.