Ignorance Doesn't Change the World

Wasn’t it easier in the lunchbox days?

Always a bigger bed to crawl into?

Wasn’t it beautiful when you believed in everything?

Everybody believed in you?

‘Innocent’ – Taylor Swift

Sometimes,

I wish that I could go

Back to the days

When

My biggest decision

Was who to invite to my birthday party

Or which OPI Nail Lacquer to buy

And

My biggest prayer request

Was that I would 

“Do well” in my exam or presentation.

When

My biggest problem

Was an unfair teacher

Or conflicting social events.

When

My biggest worry

Was that I wouldn’t get a date to the prom

Or be accepted to a good college

And

My biggest spiritual hurdle

Was how to “Be a witness”

To my friends who

(gasp)

swore.

The days

When

I could buy a product without

Wondering

About the the people who made it

(fair trade)

(sweat shops)

(chemical exposure)

(child labour)

(conflict minerals)

And therefore become

Conflicted

Myself.

The days

When

Having a crush on a boy

Meant I never had to

Actually

Talk to him.

The days

Before I started thinking critically.

The days

Before I left my “bubble.”

The days
Before I learned
That believing in God
Can be hard sometimes.
Before I wondered
What Jesus really meant
When He said,
"Follow Me."

The days

Before I watched the news.

Before I interacted with the oppressed.

Before I saw people’s spiritual wounds.

Before I experienced a world of unnecessary suffering.

Before I knew heartbreak.

Before I recognized my privilege.

Before I asked questions.

Things were easier in the lunchbox days.

These days are hard,

And sometimes they hurt.

But I believe they are worth it.

I guess it's true what they say,

That

Ignorance is bliss.

But ignorance doesn’t

Change the world.


And it won't change me, either.

Starved for Beauty

I hadn't realized I was starved for beauty.

I have been cognizant of my need for beauty for the past one week; I started reading Ann Voskamp's "one thousand gifts" again, and in the last chapter I read she recognizes her need for manna each day or she starves.  For her, this manna is beauty, and I know that this rings true for me, as well.  I realized long back that one of the reasons I love about India is the vibrancy of life and the beauty that this creates.  For me, this vibrancy along with the colors of houses, clothing, flowers, skintones is a life that keeps me alive.  I know that the first words that come to mind when many think of India are "dirty, crowded, impoverished, unpleasant" but I believe that "nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see" (Pierre Teihard de Chardin) and that even "le laid peut etre beau" ("the ugly can be beautiful"- Paul Gauguin).

That being said, when you get stuck in your routine, the things you once found beautiful can cease to bring you joy.  Not because they aren't beautiful, but because you aren't looking.  Or, as is sometimes the case in India, you are so blinded by everything else - blocking out the noise, dodging bikes, watching your step in the construction-ridden roads - that you forget to look.  In my case, reading about Ann's need for manna reminded me of mine, and reminded me that I had stopped looking.  So the past 7 days I've been looking, but coming up empty.  Why?  I'm not sure yet.  Perhaps that will be another blogpost one day.

Needless to say, although I knew I had a need for beauty in my life, I hadn't realized that I was starving.

Until I arrived in Dehradun (Uttarakhand, India) for a work trip and pulled into a house that had an entrance like this:

 Which had a wrap-around verandah and a corner porch that looked like this:

Was nestled into the Himalayan foothills with a view like this:

Had about a million flowers, including this charming English rose bush:

 And from where I watched the sun set like this:

There were dragonflies and birds galore, and I even saw a peacock strutting across the yard.  Yeah - a peacock.  Sans tailfeathers, though.  We took a walk in the twilight time, and it was when I started to cry upon seeing the white, pink, and fuchsia bougainvillea cascading over a tall picket fence that I realized that I have been starving.  "Thank you, God."  The beauty I had been seeking once again in Bangalore wasn't what I needed.  This was it.  As it grew dark, I sat by myself on the verandah listening to nothing but the sounds of the evening birds and the breeze through the trees, watching the stars come out in the heavens above and the twinkling lights in the city beneath me.  Not only did I need beauty, but I needed peace.  And I am very thankful that I found it in the most unexpected of places.