The more I reflect upon the life I have lived so far, the
more it seems to me that on the whole I have been very lucky:
That I was not born severely handicapped, or a poor Dalit in the rural badlands.
That I became self-reliant, psychologically, financially and socially, so early in life.
That I have been allowed to work and earn a decent living without shame or guilt of any kind for myself and my dependents for so long.
That, following a sickly childhood, I have remained more or less fit and healthy continuously almost all my working life: that’s close to forty years.
That I have narrowly avoided so much and so many kinds of trouble which I have seen other people suffering from.
That my outlook on life, though increasingly tired and bored, has become much sunnier since teenage, and no one, no matter how hard so many people tried, has managed to get me down for very long.
That I have been allowed to learn so much about this world and about humanity, and thus acquire the kind of poise and composure and (dare I say it?) wisdom that so many people never do.
That I lost my parents but got them back.
That I was blessed with such a wonderful daughter.
That I can still appreciate the beauty and joy of simple things.
That I have no debts to repay, monetary or otherwise.
That I have enjoyed the affection, admiration and respect of many, and more importantly, that it doesn’t matter very much these days.
That for ages I have had a lot of time to call my own, and leisure.
That only God can make me retire, and
That I am not afraid of dying.
Every one of the above could have turned out very
differently, and horribly worse.
Yes, like everyone else, I could draw up a huge list of things I have lost, things that have badly hurt me, things that I thought I well deserved but didn’t get. But merely running my eyes mentally down the above fills me with such an ineffable peace and thankfulness that the other list does not rankle any more. The exercise saves me from a lot of heartburn and that other terribly common human sin, envy of others who seem to have been more fortunate. ‘I lamented I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no legs’. No wonder the Christian hymn tells us to count our blessings morning and night… it is indeed the better way to live.
Swarnava wishing that I might find ‘serenity’ prompted me to write this up. If I still cannot find serenity, it will be only due to some lingering weakness in me, not anybody else’s fault.
2 comments:
I like this post very much, especially the last line. It is so true; the less entitled we feel, the more grateful we become.
'Entitlement', as it is understood today, stems from a) total unmindfulness of how cruel the world can be, b) a subconscious conviction that I am a very special person for whom the laws of the universe must always be bent, and c) complete indifference to other people's suffering combined with an overwhelming concern about one's own.
Bad parenting, coupled with an education that does nothing to develop us spiritually (I use the word in a totally non-religious sense) have ensured that the world over, most young and middle-aged people have been brought up that way.
Thankfulness for all the gifts received, on the other hand, can help hugely to make the burden of living much more bearable.
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