News Flash - Pause in fighting to save some (but then kill more later)

 

24 November 2023 morning. As is part of my perfunctory morning routine, I have a warm cup of earl gray in my hand and settle down to look through the headlines.

The top news this morning is “Pause in fighting, paving way for release of captives.”

The headline is about war going in Gaza and death and destruction it has caused since 7 October 2023.

The headline is telling us that there will be a mediated pause in fighting. A semblance of a civilized world will be restored for a couple of days.

Perhaps for a few days the dust will settle down and the noise of explosions will give way to silence, amongst which cries of humanity resulting from its loss can be heard.

There will be a pause in which children and their families will not be on the run from one shelter to another and for a few nights will have the blessing of uninterrupted sleep.

The mention of pause also conjures up an image that in a couple days an invisible hand will press a button and the paused brutalities of war will resume.

The thought conjures up the image of a movie where in the middle of an action sequence everything gets frozen in midair and after a few seconds when the flow of time resumes, and broken pieces of bones fall on the ground.

The pause is like that freeze time effect in movies.

And so, in a few days the pause in the war would be over. During that time, a few prisoners and hostages will be released or exchanged. After that the fighting would resume, and later. inevitably more would die.

The absurdity of it all - exchange few human souls, but later extinguish souls of many more - should be apparent.

Guess that is how the human mind works.

In finiteness a quest for eternity is born

In finiteness a quest for eternity is born

 

Midlife is the time to let go of an over dominant ego and to contemplate the deeper significance of human existence  ― Carl Gustav Jung

 

Arun Kumar

Twenty years. Thirty years.

Or it could be just one more moment, one more day, or another month.

There is no way of telling what it would be. It is perhaps something one does not want to know either.

What would happen if the moment was known?

When far, it would just be an ephemeral thought.

Sure, one day it will get closer but for now the time between here and then is long enough for few galaxies to form, few stars to born, few civilizations to evolve.

Or so it seems.

But gradually the moment keeps getting closer and becomes harder and harder to ignore.

And then…

…one day a realization that it is destined to happen dawns and decides to stay.

Time is no longer as bountiful as it once seemed to be. It suddenly feels compressed.

What is ahead is certainly not long enough for galaxies to form. It may not even be enough for a caterpillar to become a chrysalis and turn into a butterfly.

Yet, within this narrowing corridor of time, a transformation happens. The brevity of what is left makes it so much more precious.

In its finiteness lurks the promise of touching eternity.

In finiteness a quest for eternity is born.

Why rush through the fields of lavender?

While mortality reminds us of our limits, it also liberates us from the shackles of trying to do everything.

Arun Kumar

Imagine a life that is lived with the cognizance of morality and another without.

Of course, one might argue that life can never be lived without some cognizance of mortality, given that it’s woven into the fabric of our surroundings. And yes, that’s true. But the distinction I’m exploring is more nuanced — between a life that perceives mortality without truly registering it in consciousness, and a life that not only sees it, but gradually comes to internalize it as a personal destiny.

With that understanding, the question I am pondering is how would two lives differ?

The intent is not to make a judgement as to which life may be better but is to query a hypothetical scenario: if two such sets of populations were to exist, then how the average lives of individuals between them would differ.

Since I myself have not transitioned over to the set of population in which mortality is recognized and internalized, I can share a few thoughts about the influence the internalization of mortality has on living.

The internalization of mortality brings a sense of humbleness. The touch of mortality reminds that the arrogance of “I” will eventually be subdued by something bigger than “I”.

“I”, after all, am not the master of the universe. The arms of the galaxy do not revolve around me.

The realization of mortality also shatters perspective on various other aspects of life. It makes us question the aspirations we have and goals we so ardently pursue. It makes us question the point of carrying on grudges forever or pushing ourselves beyond necessity so as to climb another rung on the ladder of success at the expense of other life experiences.

One day no matter how many sacrifices one has made to reach the sky, mortality would politely ask to please climb down and follow it.

The realization of mortality suggests slowing down to feel the pleasure of engaging in activities a little more mindfully. It tells us that there are a billion things to see and do, however, the time at our disposal is finite. Given that, there is no need to try to check as many boxes as we can because no matter how many are checked, there will still be a billion more to be checked. Instead, mortality suggests that checking boxes should not be the goal, it should be enjoying the ones we do check.

Mortality tells us that it is the enjoyment of engaging in activities that is going to matter and will be remembered. Not much would be remembered when rushing through the fields of lavender at a mad pace.

The internalization of mortality speaks to us about the importance of the present and of the limited time that is given to us. The boat we are on is slowly, but inadvertently, drifting with the current towards a waterfall of our end. A month lost in trivialities is never regained, it says.

A life with the presence of mortality is sobering, humbling, calming, grounding. Even more so, and in a strange way, by reminding us of our limits, it also liberates us from the shackles of trying to do everything.

Ciao.

Why we need to develop a force field against absurdity?

 

Arun Kumar

Some time back I like countless others who have lived on the Earth before, or are living now, or will live in the future, had some musings on “is it even possible to ever come to terms with our mortality (and the thought that when life end it *really* ends) and develop a way to live and have a functional life?”

Life and mortality being together is a paradox; a potential for being a dysfunctional couple hobbling along and never enjoying moments of harmony or peace.

Like all paradoxes, perhaps the paradox of mortality and living cannot be resolved but can only be managed. Think about “everything I say is a lie.” There is no exit ramp on the highway of this paradox.

In the context of managing this particular paradox, strategies have been developed to wriggle our way out of it. One of them is accepting the path of religion which offers us the olive branch that after our death we continue to exist in some form. This path tries to take mortality out of the equation.

All these solutions resolve the paradox by eliminating one pole of the paradox itself, i.e., when life ends it really does not end, and with one side of the paradox eliminated, it might be easier to live a functional life.

The other extreme of possibilities, of course, is that the short span of time is all there is given to us and all we could do is to accept and try to reconcile with this notion and have a functional life.

One of the primary consequences of harboring this thought is that when we finally get a respite from the daily grind and pause to take a bird’s-eye view of our life, an uncomfortable question occasionally surfaces: Why, in the world, have we been doing what we’ve been doing?

All the rat race, the politicking, and the conniving, holding petty grudges! Really? Tomorrow, we can fall off the cliff and holding grudges will not make us any lighter.

With the notion of a finite existence, everything we do in between can feel so profoundly absurd.

Feeling that the motions we go through are at best absurd, what are the options available to us to live with the absurdity and have a functional life?

While there may not be a cure for mortality and the feeling of absurdity it can bring, a possible path forward is to accept consequences and carve a way to live that can soothe the bluntness with which the realization of mortality can push against our flesh.

A possible path is to discover what we value in life and develop a portfolio of engagements that aligns with those values. The way to know what we value is to recognize the activities that bring feelings of happiness, sense of accomplishments, emotions of connectedness that transcend our finite self.

Although the paradox of mortality and living would remain a paradox, the approach can still allow us to have a functional, creative, and meaningful life that is occasionally punctuated by the humbleness that mortality can bring.

Recognizing what we value and building a portfolio of engagements with activities that allow us to actualize what we value, is a key to be able to live with the cognizance of mortality and to have a functional life.

May the force of such a portfolio of engagements be with us.

Ciao.