I believe in the Paradox of Choice

My cousin was shot dead a week ago. The suspected culprits may be the Taliban, or ISIS (or whatever they are called these days) or political agents seeking more money from him.  It matters who they are, and yet at the level of my life, it doesn't.

Having moved out of Pakistan after highschool, with the infamous story of not even turning around to wave good bye to my family, i have managed to build the structure a "successful life" around myself. I got a degree in a prestigious profession, got a "good job" and often hear stories of older relatives asking my mom about "the golden child". I have learnt to manage" my relationships, carefully revealing intricately designed parts of myself to different spectrums of the society. I am onw to my family, another to my freinds, yet another to my colleges. As i integrate all these parts of myself, i am coming to discover a deep truth held sacred in my soul. I believe in the paradox of choice.

Nothing hurts more than being abandoned. i learned this truth as a child, left behind in social settings because of my gender.  I remember wistfully wanting to go pray in the mens side of the mosque with my dad, or wanting to be in the mens side of the room during family occasions . I learned to continue spreading this wound, first by abandoning my younger sister by never really acknowledging her in conversations or devleoping a real relationships with her and then by abandoning by and large most of my family upon my immigration. In doing that, i am learning, i abandoned a huge piece of myself. The majority of my life, my childhood dreams and thoughts, freindships and relationships were abandoned. I chose to do all that, and to create healthy boundaries, to heal and become who i am today.  As an adult, i come across that wound often, in friends and loved ones. I struggle with it myself, and often see it as the deepest wound we humans inflict upon another.

My belief in the paradox of choice allows me to continue choosing. It allows me to see that so much of who i am today is not because of me. And yet there is so much that is. My cousin was shot because he was a prominent figure in the religious scene in Pakistan. He was the son of a religious cleric and grew up in a system which was saturated with that particular flavor of theology. I dont know if he intentionally chose the path he did, or if he considered the far ranging implications of it. I know that if i was born of a different gender, i would have seen that life style as attractive too. The desire to be the hero rages deep inside me.  Being shunned due to being of the female gender, and having interalized those experiences i approached life from a different perspective. Good luck and the generosity of relatives brought me to America, unfortunate bitter experiences with some muslim people drew me away from islam as a religion, persistent failures of mere mortal men made me painfully aware of my triggers against religion and at the current moment find solace in spirituality. And yet, neither of us can claim to be the sole creators of our lives, nor claim having nothing to do with it. So, i get to live with the conclusion that if there is a conductor leading the orchestra of this universe, she has a unique sense of humor.

I believe in the paradox of choice and how important it is to own it. I deserve no accolades for what is present in my life, and yet i deserve some praise. My cousin did not deserve to be shot for his belief system or situation in life, and yet there is a level of responsibility for him to bear. The day I can own it all, maybe i will be able to let go of my better than though attitude towards others. Maybe i will be able to love all my neighbours as myself, even those who think i am wrong and an infidel. Maybe i will be able to over come self racism and hatred and accept the petty and small parts of me. Maybe i will be able to complete the heros journey of returning back to my origins, not to evangilize or apostolize my new found truths and epiphanies, but to hold space for healing. The paradox of choice is one we can chose to hold, and this I believe!

--

Gratitude

Knock knock
Whose there
Gratitide
Gratitude who
The gratitude you felt when u saw.the first spring flower bloom
The gratitude for joyin.the face.of gloom
For rainbows in oily puddles of sludge
When you realize that you just.gave up your biggest grudge.


Remember the gratitude you had
When you saw her after a very long.time
And realized beyond doubt that you loved her

But wait....there is more to that
You loved her as a human
Not as your chick
You adored her more that your new kicks
More than the crib
And the ride
And you loved her more than you loved you
This you couldn't hide

Here is to gratitude for that
For love for humanity and compassion
When your first acts of love are always right
And need no revision
It is when long lost friends gather
And ask about faith over a meal
it is for when u step into a used car lot
And without haggling get a good deal

How about that sunrise he said
Or the sunset......or smiles
For sure i proclaim....but you see
I haven't seen them in quite a while
I have been using my windows of eyes
To see the universe outside
What i see is my reflection
It is all my hearts projection
So i have gratitude for this heart
No matter how often it breaks
I am so grateful for perseverance
For seeking equanimity no matter how long it takes

Afriad

Why You Should Be Afraid of Your Story

by Jeremy Statton | Leave a Comment

What keeps you from living the story you want? What keeps you from doing a difficult work that matters?

Is it fear?

I read an article on the internet last month about fear. The point was simple. Fear keeps us from living better stories. I certainly agree.

The author went on then to offer the obvious remedy. Stop being afraid.

But I would tell you something different about what to do with your fear.

photo by Jonastas Cunha (creative commons)

Stop Being Afraid

I’m afraid of snakes. I was out of town recently and my wife sent me a text saying there was a snake in the house. I was thousands of miles away and I felt a shiver down my spine. That sensation was fear.

There are some things we should consider no longer being afraid of.

• Does the fear of flying keep you from taking your dream trip to Europe?
• Does the fear of Montezuma’s revenge keep you from going on a mission trip to Central America?
• Does the fear of failure keep you from starting your own business?

Many of our fears are irrational. They make no sense, and we need to tell the fear to get lost.

Sometimes we have to get over ourselves and grab the snake by the tail and put it in a box.

Be Afraid

Some stories are about traveling. Some stories are about risky business ventures. Some are about snake handling.

But some stories, and I would argue truly better stories, are about living a life of sacrifice.

When we choose to give of ourselves, it becomes painful. Sacrifice takes our time. Sacrifice takes our money. Sacrifice may even take our lives.

Sacrifice is something that any normal person should be afraid of.

The more incredible your story is, the more it will demand of you. The greater the sacrifice, the more it will cost.

When you choose a life of sacrifice for the good of others, it will hurt. And you will be very afraid. Every single day.

Incredible sacrifice produces a fear so intense, that I do no think you can stop it.

Even Jesus was afraid.

What Will You Do?

Instead of shoving your fear aside, I think you need to embrace it for what it is. Anything else would be lying to yourself.

Your story doesn’t depend on whether or not you stop being afraid of what it might cost. In fact I hope you are considering doing something that makes you very afraid. Something that makes you stop and reconsider. Something that scares the living day lights out of you. Something that forces to ask yourself repeatedly, “What if?”

The issue isn’t fear, but what you choose to do in spite of it. The decision you make when you feel the fear.

Do you proceed or do you turn back? Will you take the next step or will you give up?

Better stories are born when you take a step forward despite your greatest fears. (Tweet that.)

And I believe that the only way you can begin when you are deathly afraid is when the story truly matters.

So, what are you afraid of?

Magic

“I do believe in an everyday sort of magic -- the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we're alone.”

― Charles de Lint

Transition

so is it death i am afraid of
the unknown
or just transition from the known
The decomposition of my flesh
Directly linked to a new life
Am i afraid of loss
or pain
Or just the fact of no gain
of having squandered life'
in a constant mire
Having no other desire
than to complete myself
Now with the last moments ticking
I find myself asking
the ever existing question

was this all worth it?
Was it worth the pain?
Did morality provide a gain
Or was it all in vain?

Games

I’m never gonna wait
that extra twenty minutes
to text you back,
and I’m never gonna play
hard to get
when I know your life
has been hard enough already.
When we all know everyone’s life
has been hard enough already
it’s hard to watch
the game we make of love,
like everyone’s playing checkers
with their scars,
saying checkmate
whenever they get out
without a broken heart.
Just to be clear
I don’t want to get out
without a broken heart.
I intend to leave this life
so shattered
there’s gonna have to be
a thousand separate heavens
for all of my flying parts

Light

They told me that this is it
This life that is
Filled with joy and mirth
Parties
Get together
Nights of being in pain
And the yearnings that follow
Drownings my sorrow
With another beer
Another friend
Another mistake

She told me there was more
Someone to adore
Those words hit a chord
More than i could afford
The story about a light
Shinning in my soul
The living God in me
Making me slowly whole

The idea of complete being
Of having eternal joy
One which can not be completed
With yet another shiny toy

IT keeps me alive now
This hope of my heart being restored
Maybe this constant search is what
Keeps me from getting bored!