Thoughts

Have you ever wondered why we do the things we do? 

Have you done things simply for the joy of doing it?

Are we intentionally/unintentionally hurting people? 

Do you follow the crowd behavior without thinking for yourself?

Do you find yourself in the rat race of achieving things that once you do not matter at the end of your life?  Are you tangled in the web of life?

Were you surrounded by critical people who were transmitting their own past hurts to you? Are you also transmitting those hurts to people? What did you do to break the chain of hurt?

Have you taken a probe into your humanity? When you see hatred/gossip/blame games/disrespect around you, is it hard to be kind?  Have you felt that even if it is hard, kindness is worth pursuing?

In a situation where kind behavior is penalized and you have to hear hurtful comments for showing understanding, what will you do? Sometimes, understanding and appreciating someone's goodness can feel pulverizing, as it may backfire. So, do you retreat into your cocoon, hardening yourself against the world? Or do you soften like liquid, allowing the world to pass through you? 

When you witness an act of kindness/understanding, how do you feel?  

Sometimes making the effort to understand each other or to think positively might be hard for some given their life circumstances. Have you pondered on the privileges that you have/do not have?

We all die one day. What do we take with us and what do we leave back to nature? 

Some good resources to probe our own humanity that I found useful (in no particular order):


Of milkweeds and teardrops

A solitary milkweed floated atop the vibrant Frangipani tree. Dark clouds loomed overhead. She was lost in her thoughts. Before the first raindrop landed, a tear fell onto her dress. She clutched her hands tightly around the fabric. And then the rain poured heavily, as did her tears. The rain subsided. Soft woolen clouds filled the air, diffusing the scent of petrichor. She smiled. It seemed the storm within her had shattered away like shards of glass. 


Shards of glass

She picked the glass shards of her being from her past;

Some were sharp and hurt her deeply,

Some were gentle,

Some were stained with beautiful colors,

She kept them one by one safely in the chest of memories;

Sometimes, those shards blow out of the chest,

She trembled to keep them back again,

It hurts her to do that;

Sometimes, she wonders whether she can stitch those glass pieces together

into some beautiful piece of artwork

glued together by her tears and smiles;

She wonders if she would still tremble 

when she sees them, whole and glued together