Is this a good time to speak, God?

I just read a very moving letter (see below), purportedly written by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the famous writer from Colombia who’s said to be suffering from terminal cancer, in the form of a farewell piece to his friends, talking, as you might’ve guessed, about what all (good things) he would do if he had a little more time to live. Such things not only prove why a writer like him is admired so much, but also bring your own mortality into sharp focus, and set you thinking.

At what point in one's life does one start thinking about God? I don’t mean, of course, the tendency to scream His name out loud when things are not going right or when we are incredulous about others’ shortcomings, but more about that middle-age watershed when we start introspecting, doing good things, being peaceful, helping others, following alternative careers, and putting on that ever-smiling, benign, I’ve-understood-all-there-is-to-about-life-and-so-sad-you-haven’t-yet face.

In the developed world there is some evidence that this age is being pushed further, with stressful (sometimes double) careers, plastic surgery, second (third and fourth) marriages, high divorce rates and eternal single parenthood. On the other hand, stuff like imported mysticism, organic food, power yoga, early retirement and now, a deep recession have created enough conditions to actually advance that age.

In contrast, one can argue that we in the developing (shall we say Eastern) world have always had a strong sense of spirituality in-built into our systems, and have a habit of dialling (and getting through to God) more often. Not to mention the host of souls who’ve made it a profession or a personality-trait early on in life, to espouse His Cause, or live His Lifestyle to the exclusion of everything else.

But what is a good age to start a dialogue with Him for Easterners who have been brought up in a more or less Western milieu? In other words, for those who were bred in a modern rational environment, but refuse to get rid of the Eastern value-system embedded in them? I ask this in all earnestness as one who’s fast approaching the half-century age-mark, but still unable to grasp the seriousness of it all.

Should I stop colouring (whatever’s left of) my hair now? Stop going to the gym, listening to rock and jazz, wearing fitting jeans and T-shirts and look the other way when a PYT passes by? Should I give up my career and instead switch to one where I’m more ‘connected’? And begin reading ‘Godly’ books and posting mystical statuses regularly on my Facebook?

Thing is, every time I look at a friend who’s seemingly ‘transcended’ this world, smile benignly at me and unstatingly urge me in the same direction, I develop cold feet. To be true, there is a sense of awe and inspiration at said person’s special abilities combined with self-derision at not being able to catch up, but mostly, there’s a deep sense of denial of the whole idea.

You may call it a reluctance to give up youth. Or, stupidity and vanity of not accepting the realities of middle age. But the fact is, I don’t think I’m ready yet. Not ready to don saffron, grow my beard long and leave my hair unkept, wear a stupid smile on my face, retire to the hills, start chanting, or even, write a letter to my friends and children prior to an impending exit.

Is it a feeling that my children have not ‘settled’ yet? Or a sense of duty and responsibility that my middle-class mind has not given up so far, that comes in the way? It would be tempting to ascribe it to such things, but I’m convinced it’s not all that.
On the contrary, it’s a feeling that I have not done enough in this life yet, not for others, but for myself. There’s more to do still, hills to be climbed, vales to be conquered, and miles to go before I sleep.

Plus, there’s a strong belief that God is in everything we do, and is not a new, or ultimate phase of our lives. All we really need to do is keep Him in mind while performing all the small, seemingly irrelevant everyday things, like being good to others and being generally moral. That’s all!

Not so long ago, on a particularly fun stretch on a long drive, we (my wife and I) had penned down a list of THINGS-TO-DO-IN-THE-NEXT-10-YEARS. We haven’t discussed that with too many people, and I’m certainly not about to post it up here, but we do occasionally look it up to remind ourselves. Maybe we’ll revisit it more often now. Maybe we’ll start adding to that list, or hopefully, striking off those that’ve been accomplished.

Does that mean God and all saintly things will take a back seat in my life for some more time, then? Maybe that’s the wrong question to ask, for after all I am an Easterner, and qualify with a little bit of God already in me. In any case, I’m clear about one thing: I’m not in a hurry to write a letter like Gabo’s to my friends. Not just yet! For I believe I already do at least a couple of the things mentioned in that letter (see below)!

A FAREWELL LETTER FROM A GENIUS (Reproduced - Circulating on the web)

Gabriel Garcia Marquez, famous writer from Colombia (familiarly known as "Gabo" in his native country) and Nobel prize winner for literature in 1982, retired from public life for reasons of health.

He has a form of cancer which is terminal. He has sent a farewell letter to his friends and it has been circulated around the Internet.

It is recommended reading because it is moving to see how one of the best and most brilliant of writers expresses himself with sorrow and regret:

"If God, for a second, forgot what I have become and granted me a little bit more of life, I would use it to the best of my ability. I wouldn't possibly, say everything that is in my mind, but I would be more thoughtful of all I say. I would give merit to things not for what they are worth, but for what they mean to express...

I would sleep less, I would dream more, because I know that for every minute that we close our eyes, we waste 60 seconds of light.

I would walk while others stop; I would stay awake while others sleep.

If God would give me a little bit more of life, I would dress in a simple manner, I would place myself in front of the sun, leaving not only my body, but my soul naked at its mercy….

To all, I would say how mistaken they are when they think that they stop falling in love when they grow old, without knowing that they grow old when they stop falling in love….

I would give wings to children, but I would leave it to them to learn how to fly by themselves.

To old people I would say that death doesn't arrive when they grow old, but with forgetfulness. I have learned so much with you all, I have learned that everybody wants to live on top of the mountain, without knowing that true happiness is obtained in the journey taken & the form used to reach the top of the hill.

I have learned that when a newborn baby holds, with its little hand, his father's finger, it has trapped him for the rest of his life.

I have learned that a man has the right and obligation to look down at another man, only when that man needs help to get up from the ground..

Say always what you feel, not what you think. If I knew that today is the last time that I am going to see you asleep, I would hug you with all my strength and I would pray to the Lord to let me be the guardian angel of your soul…

If I knew that these are the last moments to see you, I would say "I love you".

There is always tomorrow, and life gives us another opportunity to do things right, but in case I am wrong, and today is all that is left to me, I would love to tell you how much I love you & that I will never forget you.

Tomorrow is never guaranteed to anyone, young or old. Today could be the last time to see your loved ones, which is why you mustn't wait; do it today, in case tomorrow never arrives. I am sure you will be sorry you wasted the opportunity today to give a smile, a hug, a kiss, and that you were too busy to grant them their last wish.

Keep your loved ones near you; tell them in their ears and to their faces how much you need them and love them. Love them and treat them well; take your time to tell them "I am sorry", "forgive me", "please", "thank you", and all those loving words you know!

Nobody will know you for your secret thought. Ask the Lord for wisdom and strength to express them.

For you, With much love,
Your Friend,
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Un abrazo
02 de julio de 2009
Y son las 15:30

Birthday-eve blues

There’re just 17 days to go. Not that I’m worried anymore about the impending date. Or, unusually thrilled, for that matter. But because 27th November is going to be my 48th birthday, it’s not a date I’m likely to overlook in a hurry.

Good time, I reckon, to introspect. Balding old men in spectacles do that, I’m told. If nothing else, it helps keep the gray matter, well, gray. Not that I’m in a mood to meet Mr Alzheimer in a hurry—no sir, I prefer Michelle Pfeiffer and so what if she doesn’t know about my existence yet—I still think I have some good years left!

So what does the scene look like, when you’ve completed at least half your allotted home runs, huffing and puffing, but still think you’re fit enough to face the pitcher?

First realisation is, you can still play ball, if you can see the damn thing after all these years. Admittedly not all that big as before, but still sizeable, you have to admit. Now, everybody knows that ball-sizes matter, so don’t confuse this with anything else—not even the size of my ego. On the other hand, if you believe that egos have a way of adding on inches with age, don’t worry, my frequent trips to the gym have ensured that I simply keep expanding my chest to keep it in.

In either case, one can still hit a mean ball and that’s a fair point at this age. But this isn’t about being able to fend for oneself—that’s still eminently do-able: at this juncture one often tends to pontificate about the larger issues in life. Should one have candy-floss if one feels like, for instance, or walk about naked when there’s no one home?

To which an Existentialist must come up with Existentialist answers, I suppose, or better still, answer with more Existentialist questions. OK, so here goes: at 48, has one really achieved what one had to? What else is left? Has one secured the lives of his progeny? Has one found real happiness? And of course, the biggest one of them all—what next?

In case you haven’t caught on yet, I fancy Existentialism. Not because I necessarily believe in it that much, but because I like the way one pronounces ‘Sartre’ or ‘Kafka’. And what exactly is my Sartorial or Kafkaesque state on the eve of my 48th birthday?

In retrospect, it’s not really that different from when I was a child: except for some very minor points, which don’t really count in the Existentialist world. For earlier on, I believed I was born to make a difference to this world—now I believe this world was born to make a difference to me; earlier I thought older people were wiser—now I think younger people are; earlier only I thought I was good-looking—now the whole world disagrees with me; earlier I thought building a house and ensuring a good life for my kids was a major milestone—now my kids don’t think so. The list is endless, but like I said, if you take a bigger, Existentialist view of things, it hardly matters.

All of which proves just one thing—that one tends to come full-circle at this point in his life, an amplification in other words, of the tautology that the earth is round. And what makes me say that?

Very simply this—that whereas earlier I was anxious and always wondering how and whether one was important in the scheme of life, now I feel exactly the same way, except for a small detail: the anxiousness is gone, and there’s a happier acceptance of the fact that one doesn’t really matter at all. Life has gone on and will go on, whether I live another 50 years or 5, in much the same way.

So the questions can wait, as can the answers, I suppose. For another year, or another 100. Meanwhile why not enjoy the 48th year of Existence like none before: after all, nothing really matters, and of course, no one’s looking!