Darkness of the Mind

Ignorance is a lot like darkness. It deprives us of our vision and everything we do under its influence will be an approximation of what we set out to do. We may walk and stumble and break, but it’s only after the light fills the space once more that we actually see what we’ve done, but more importantly what damage we’ve caused.

This darkness is sweeping. It is difficult to illuminate, for this darkness exists in the minds of certain people, the entrances of which have been blocked. It is difficult to access this darkness and give it light, and for that reason, what they do will cause damage.

This ignorance is the reason why sectarian clashes are at their height and why religion will continue to be a tool to manipulate people. The case of ignorance here is simple, ignorance of the other. This darkness hovers over many Muslims. They are unaware of who their Christian counterparts are, or what churches or monasteries are like, or what prayers are like. This applies not only to extremists but to moderate Muslims. The moderates, even when they do not believe in violence, will not understand that churches do not store weapons, that monasteries do not torture people. They do not have the necessary information to make these logical deductions, like monasteries do not have the man power or the time to torture anyone, or that we’ve never heard of a church fire on anyone despite the tumultuous times we’re living in.

The facts are simple and yet so unknown. The minds of the weak can be filled with any sort of object as long as there is darkness. We can fill a room with oak, mahogany, gold and gems as long as the room remains dark. We can fill the room with beasts, with swords, with weapons as long as the room remains dark. The answer is simple, light the room, but the ignorance is not as easily conquered by knowledge as darkness is by light. It may be that certain inhabitants choose to wear blindfolds, so that even when the room is lit, the blind remain blind.

We need to light the rooms and pull down the blindfolds, because there is no hope without our attempts to do so. The only weapon we may count on is the truth. We cannot play the political game of hiding the truth in order to protect, because there’s no one to protect from the truth. We are not in a position today to fight darkness with darkness. We cannot fight ignorance with ignorance.

It’s not enough for you to open your eyes today, you need to open other eyes, because in the words of Roger Waters, ‘each small candle lights a corner of the dark’.

There is too much darkness for us not to at least try and make a difference. Many have missed out on the chance to be part of a revolution which has brought us pride. It’s not too late to contribute, there are many battles to fight. Maybe spend an hour with those in Maspero, maybe talk to extremists and convince them of the truth, maybe talk to other moderates and ask them to know.

There must be something within us all to fight this darkness that has taken hold of many generations. There must be hope that those of us who care will speak out and make a difference. There must be a way to fight against the worst forms of darkness, the darkness of the mind.

In Search of Deeper Things

There are parts of me that I miss. I don’t know what they are or where they’re at right now, but I do miss these parts. I wonder if they’re asleep or dead. Does it really matter? It doesn’t matter if they come to life again because I take solace in the fact that they existed once upon a time. That’s the case with all of my love, I’ve learned to be grateful for it than to regret it not having lasted. I learned to embrace a lost love than to blame it. The moments in our lives that make us feel happy are so limited, so short and yet they are the ones we should hold on to. I do hold on to them. I feel that they are like the movie version of life, they are what we count our lives to be in the edited version.

Some pain brings joy at the end, and that pain is celebrated, and remembered. For all the pain is to a joyous end. The memories I have most trouble with are the good ones that are poisoned in the finale. It is extremely unsettling to find that great moments may be turned into bitter memories that would not leave us be. It is unsettling that the love which we hold most dear can turn into a lie, and that is the worst kind of memory, when all that was good about it turns out fake.

There are many parts of me that delve deeper than what the forefront of my thoughts can bring to comprehension. My understanding of them is limited, but my feeling is not. I miss these parts the most, that take me beyond where my own conscious deliberate thoughts can. They are like fine instruments that produce sounds that my voice cannot.

I’ve read a lot recently about the meaning of life, I’ve even read two books that speak about such a topic. The phrase is appealing to the parts of me that I miss, that ponder over this question long enough to dive into its depths. I do not think I feel an urge to consider that life is meaningless, it is not. The words I write to myself give it meaning.

Much of what happens around me brings about contemplation, but it seems that it takes much for events to seep through. I was asked before if I would give up my idle abstract wonderings that I seem to be addicted to, and I answered that I would. It all seems so meaningless really, but it’s how I’m built. I feel that my thoughts are a response to this irrational need of finding deeper things even though their existence may be fictitious.