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Numair Qureshi

Mosaic Humanities 2

Dr. Susan Lucas

Final Paper

I, Identity

Somewhere off in the distance, someone is searching for his identity under a pebble, under a grain of salt, under a sand dune, inside of a wet marsh where light gets trapped but never escapes. Somewhere off in the distance there is a boy who has yet to figure out his mission in life, to finally understand why he is the way he is. In his dreams, he is a dying Icarus who constantly falls from the sky under a pair of melted feathers. It is a constant visual, a mathematical equation that has yet to be flawed, it is time, it is eternal. Sometimes in her waking moments, a girl scratches the horizon with her fingernail in hopes of discovering something so beautiful beyond what the eye can see that it may perhaps lift her from all the confusion life has to offer her and give her the clarity she has desired all of her life. There is a question on everybody’s mind, the question which books are written of and movies are scripted on. It is a question that has come in many forms throughout the history of mankind. Eve took the apple in hopes of finding more, and the answer was not delivered. Alice went through her Wonderland, and she herself did not get a tangible answer. Time and time again, in the wildest of dreams we have ventured into the far unknown to ask, and it was at the moments we received no clear response that we learned that black holes do exist. So we asked, and we asked, and we asked, and we begged and we begged, and we pleaded, and we screamed for an answer, but we got none. Rather, we learned that God is cruel, wicked, and a gambler, because the question all along was, “Who am I?”. So we searched in locked corridors, we looked under grains of salt, we ran our fingers across the horizon hoping that the scratches would tear a hole in the sky allowing rain to fall back into our world- a rain that would bring I back home to us. Holding the Bhagavad Gita near and dear to our hearts, we heard the words of Krishna when he proclaimed that we fulfil our duty, our destiny, our mission. And we screamed back to Krishna, “How can we fulfil our duty if we know not who we are, what our mission is, or why we exist?”. No response. We learned that God is a gambler who plays dice. He creates at will, and he has no reason other than to play around. He gave us sadness, and then he made sure the emotion worked properly by assigning us tears to fall from our eyes to signify the life of the feeling. All around we looked, high and low, near and far, on top of balconies, under our covers, and we still could not God. We still could not find who we are. So, we looked toward humanity for an answer. We looked for peace within our friends, our lovers, our drugs, our addictions, and we found an answer that could suffice: power, the greatest corruption of all. Eventually, to our great surprise, the answer came to us in the strangest of ways, in the strangest of places- we found ourselves….inside of ourselves.

Larvae

They say there is a huge collision of gasses before a star is a born. In one catastrophic smattering of different colours, lights, wavelengths, and elements, a bright firefly begins the first day of its life in the giant black canopy above. Such a collision makes us wonder if the star has its own song…a star song. Does it hum, does it hymn, does it whistle, does it sing? There is a certainty that strikes us, a certain kind of calmness, when we look up into the universe and point our fingers into the directly of a star that will never leave its place. It is almost as if this piece of the universe will always be there to serve as the part of a constellation that forms the very structure of our lives.

On the corner of every street, we see a sign indicating the name of that street. And this name will be enough of an identity for the street for as long as it exists. 50 states represent the land we belong to, and each shape has its own name. Every single direction we look, there is a name that belongs to something. As humans, we give things titles. Wood on water is a ship. Black is black. White is white. A box with light is called a light bulb. And then, there is us. We have been assigned the title human, and we have been assigned a name at birth. But, aren’t we greater than just a name, just a title? Aren’t we unique, aren’t we different? At birth, we are larvae, barely distinguishable form other babies. We grow, and we see our reflections, and we learn that we are beautiful, we are different, we are unique, and that we could never be a part of a constellation because of our irregular shape which makes us something unlike any other human to have ever existed. We barely know language, yet we hear strange words from beings we shall soon call our parents.  “You are going to be a doctor one day! A lawyer perhaps, a  teacher, a pharmacist, a scientist, an athlete, maybe even president!” We smile at the happiness they feel when they proclaim who we are to be in life. Still lost, still confused, our heads bobble as we are helplessly fed because of our dependency for survival.

Caterpillar

We are able now. We have grown, and we know what is expected of us out of life.  We have grown reasoning faculties. We see caterpillars everywhere. There are old caterpillars, young caterpillars, middle aged caterpillars, and dying caterpillars. We all look similar, yet our hearts distinguish us from one another. Maybe we shall remain this way forever. But, that would be a curse because we want so much more. So we ask our parents the forbidden question: “Who am I?”. And they respond by telling us what they desire us to be instead of who we are. Years pass, and we forget that the question exists. We rush off to our schools, and the days are just like all the rest. An instructor teaches a lesson that nobody cares about. Textbooks are used as pillows, and windows are observed as dreamscapes, portals to an outside world where everybody is happy and clarity is felt far and wide. Yet, when it rains, I cling to my umbrella tightly because I realize that even the outside world has its harsh moments. Then in the most unexpected moments, we do a favour for someone and they return to us a smile. A smile that pierces through our heart and gives us a sense of happiness and peace. We have a realization that power, happiness, and bliss can only come from making others smile. Somewhere far away, unbeknownst to us, Ayn Rand clutches her fist in disapproval, and Lord Krishna frowns.  We dance in the streets, racing home into the arms of our parents, into the arms of society, into the arms of the world. We embrace a new philosophy: Selflessness. And, thus, we make it a mission to lose ourselves, to live unselfishly, so that we may live for the world. We live to make others smile, we live for the peoples’ contentment, and we care not to forever be butterflies.

We drown ourselves in Emerson’s words when he preaches that we must lose the self. Suddenly, we become transparent eyeballs reflecting the currents of the universe. There is no more you, there is no more I, there is only Us. There is only mankind. There is only one name, one nation indivisible under God. There is only One. The most wretched place, we are taught, for the heart to exist is inside of our chest. So, we place our heart in the hands of humanity, and we give it to them so that we may live up to the ideals expected of us. Mother and father will be proud of us, because they gave birth to us to live the life they could never live, the life they always dreamed of. Who are we to wrong their wishes? Sometimes, in the quietest of moments, we feel a thumping in our chest but we quickly ignore it because there are other duties to be fulfilled. We have a world to please. “One day, I will become a doctor, and the world will finally accept me”, said the boy. ”One day, I will become head of the clinic, and the world will finally accept me”, said the doctor.  So, we race onward! Yet, our souls cry on the inside as they die. It is a sin to have soul, we are taught, because a soul is what makes us different. And differences causes chaos amongst society. We must live for the people, by the people, from the people.
The Pursuit of Power

We burn to answer the question, “Who am I?”, but as a response we only learn what it is to burn. No longer, no more. We are nothing. We are reflections of the universal, like Thoreau. We are part and parcel of the whole like Emerson. Days pass by, stars lose their glimmer, and food becomes bland, for who are we without our people? We are nothing. The anger builds up, and we return to religion. We are taught that to live for God is holy, yet to die for God is akin to the divinity of Christ. So, Johnny clutched a bible in one hand and a gun in the other. It is off to war to fight for God, to fight for religion. And we were taught to congregate, so that our God may be pleased with us. And we were taught that our God could be the only god worthy of worship, and all other worshippers of other Gods were sinners against humanity. It was at that moment that we realized all of Humanity was not to be pleased. Only some of humanity was to be pleased- the part that shared our views and values of God- , and the rest should be slain.  So we went to war alongside Johnny, and we killed thousands. We killed in the name of the Lord, and we laughed at our childhood memories of scratching horizons with our nails because it was at this moment that we realized that even a bullet could not travel that far. We learned that bullets were made only to kill. And, to kill in the name of our Lord was holy. Laughable were the times of our childhood when we felt different, when we felt unique. The reality is that there are those who are with us, and there are those who are not. And those are not with us, even if they are not against us either, should be defeated. With each death, we grow more powerful. Watch as the world smiles back at us for the good we have done! We feel as though we have accomplished much, but why is it that we cannot sleep at night?

We became a doctor, we became what our parents desired us to be. We established a name, we established respect, and society should happily accept us now. We have all the riches in the world, we have killed in the name of God, we have become more powerful than the mightiest kings of Rome, we have servants, and we have associates. We would like to call these associates friends, but there is a sycophantic air around them that instils distrust within our bones. But, such a feeling is effervescent, and we can barely notice s because we have not had a friend in so many years that we have forgotten what friendship truly is. What we have here are titles. We are doctors, we are lawyers, we are pharmacists, we are teachers, we are engineers. Without these titles, we are nothing. Mankind has given us these titles, and we happily embrace mankind. We have given our hearts away so that the spirit of humanity may eternally smile upon us.  Just like Julius Caesar who pledged his heart to Rome, are we not great for doing the same to the world? Yet, why is it that in the quietest of moments we feel regret, remorse, and pain? They have told us that to feel such things is a sign of God, for pain is a sign of healing. And we are sinners, so we must be punished for our crimes. But what were our crimes? We killed in the name of our lord, we became what our parents wanted us to be, we have amassed many riches, and our status is high and mighty. Yet, we still feel like criminals. Perhaps we have not slain enough. Shall, then, be the title of Crusader be dawned? Shall a march be incited upon the rest of the world who has caused evil by believing in another God? Is God angry at us for not fulfilling the great promise we made to our religion that all those against it shall be obliterated? We ask this to society, and it smiles back at us. It is the same loving smile we received when we became doctors, it is the same smile we received when we marched with Johnny and slew in the name of God, it is the same smile we received when we killed our souls and placed our hearts into the hands of mankind. And we turn our backs for a second to feel if there is a dark corner to creep into anymore, because for the first time in our lives we feel as though the darkness could possibly be more trustable than humanity’s smirks. A vision flashes before our eyes, and suddenly we remember what it means to Dream. We fall to our knees, and we cry a thousand tears as remorse fills our beings. And then like the birth of a star, something explodes inside our chest and we finally feel our hearts beating once again. It feels like we are back home, and there is finally a sense of peace in the dark chasm. We raise our heads to the sky, and we finally ask the estranged question: “Who am I?”

Ascension

Somewhere from the depths of the darkness, we have a dream as our bodies fall asleep. It is a strange feeling to dream once again after not having dreamt for so many years. It is evident that sleep was made so that humans could learn to listen to the beatings of their hearts and the messages that the great beyond has to deliver us, because we are far too ignorant in our waking hours to notice all of the beauty around us. In our dreams, Rainer Maria Rilke preaches:

I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

To awaken with such clarity is very strange because we are not accustomed to such a feeling. Yet, realize that there is an answer to the question. We know not what that answer is, but there is hope. Our journey takes us toward men who gave their souls to humanity, and we learn of Hitler who killed Jews to receive the favour of Germany, we learn of Hussein who killed in the name of god, we learn of the snakes of Enron who desired so much to be loved and accepted that they stole from the very home they belonged to. And then we learn of men like Gandhi, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King, men who also pursued power. Yet, understandably, what differentiated them from the rest is that they gave the power back to the people- the power not over others, but the power to live a life free from others’ expectations. The pursuit of power over others had turned us evil. The pursuit of acceptance and approval caused us to do wicked things, and we always placed the blame on God. No, we are to blame. When King and Gandhi preached civil disobedience, they did not do it to have control or power over others, neither did they do it for acceptance. They marched to the beat of their own drummer, as Thoreau would say. They led mankind to the very heart it rejected. They united the people for only a few moments so that they would realize that each and every single person mattered in each and every way. We read a letter written by Martin Luther King from a Birmingham prison, and we compare it to Mein Kampf. We realize that Hitler pursued power because he felt rejected by the world, by the art institutions, by the doctors, and by his own sexuality. King pursued power so that it may be given back to the people. Long live the King. We read the Iliad, and we saw Achilles fight for a woman taken from him. In his pursuit, he killed many people in the name of justice. So much blood had fallen, and Achilles was blinded by his own pursuit of power. We glance at the words of Sir Thomas Moore in Utopia, and we see a perfect world, and even this does not resonate with us. It seems as to the fire of mankind to grow, to learn, to accept challenge, has died because everybody has been assigned a role. In such a society, the people live for the people, by the people, from the people.  We lived in such a manner once, and it did not give us a sense of fulfilment. And, of the most divine documents, we read over and over again the following words: Know Thyself. Alas, how can we know ourselves if the answer is never revealed to us whenever we ask it? Perhaps one day we shall find the answer, perhaps when we are ready. Somewhere off in the distance, the rain drops slowly across the black asphalt, and there is serenity. A calm peace fills our bones as we come closer to the answer, and the rain falls heavier. All of our lives, we have only seen caterpillars, but tonight is different because the streets are dark and empty. And, somewhere far off in the distance, there is a butterfly.

An answer exists, then! We travel quickly toward the Butterfly, and it notices us. It notices our struggle, yet it does not move. We travel far and long until our legs begin to ache. Hours pass until we are able to speak to the butterfly face to face. We ask it, “Oh Butterfly, how did you come to be? How did you break away and become so different than all of the rest? Do you know the answer to who I am?!!!!!!!!” To this, the butterfly replied, “To the first question, I came to be after I burst from my cocoon. To the second question, I had to be different because I dared not to live like any other. Only those who dare to live according to their own heart beat can become butterflies. The final question is forbidden territory for me, and I must never reveal to you who you are because who you are would only be my perception of who you could become. And what you could become is limitless. Goodbye.” We try to speak to this butterfly, but it flies away so fast that there is nothing we can do. We are reminded of the Bible:

Ask, and it shall be given you; seek; and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. [Matthew 7:7-8].

We have sought for so long, and even yet, there is no answer. We do not wish to pursue a power which absolutely corrupts us. We would rather pursue the power of knowing ourselves so that we may live a life filled with peace and clarity.

Hibernation

We finally give up our pursuit and sit down so that we may begin to think. Our skins begin to crust over, and a cocoon forms around us. In this cocoon, our thoughts magnify, and we receive revelations. We feel our skin, and we realize how beautiful we are. We realize how good it feels to be different, to unique, to have our own ideas, thoughts, and desires. Like Neo, we begin to lose our faith in fate, destiny, or chance because we do not like a God that plays dice, and we do not like the idea that we are not in control of our lives. Society taught us that it was a sin to be different. We feel that it is a sin to be the same. Now, we leave the rest of the world behind. We are no longer caterpillar. There was a time when a dream would take over our very souls, and we would imagine that we were Icarus falling from the sky. We would scratch the sky so that answers may rain upon us. Inside of this cocoon, we are separate from the rest of the world, and the answer feels nearer than ever. And then, similar to the flash of an explosion, revelations rain inside of our hearts. A voice screams out that the Oracle at Delphi was wrong when it preached us to “know thyself.” A voice screams out that the greatest sin in the universe is to ask the world the question we have asked all along: WHO AM I? It is a greater sin than to ask that question than it is to kill a million people. To ask such a question is a sin against humanity, a sin against the self, a sin against god. The voice screams out, “To ask “Who am I” is to give up all power of one could possibly be. The second we ask this question, give the world the power to decide who we are. We give our parents, we our teachers, our friends all the power to decide who we are. There are certain inalienable rights every single person has. These are rights that not even God himself can trespass on. The greatest of these rights is the right to be exactly who we are to be. The Oracle at Delphi is wrong. Power is not in “knowing thyself”. The truth is that the sacred words shall be, “Declare Thyself.”

To know thyself is to place your identity in the hands of the universe. We are all born a tabula rasa, and society imprints its values and views on us. If we do not proclaim the power to declare who we are, society will do it for us. The question, then, is not “Who am I?”, but rather, “Who do I declare myself to be?” This is the greatest question of all, and not even God can decide for us.” The voice turns out to be our very own. We screamed out the greatest epiphany of all, and in this cocoon we shall create ourselves. We shall declare who we are, we shall declare who we are to be. We shall declare a reason to exist, we shall declare a purpose, we shall declare a mission. We shall declare the colour of our wings, the paths we shall walk, our roles in life, our occupations, our romances, and everything else that can be declared. We have learned that titles and names can be taken away, but what we declare ourselves to be is forever our right. And what we declare ourselves to be can never be taken away by the people, for the people, or from the people. When we burst from our cocoons, allow us to be reborn a new name, a new person, a God of our own fabric of reality.

Metamorphasis

We have wings now, and we fly amongst a world of caterpillars. Yet, there is still hope, there is still love. We have enemies now, and we have few friends. But, that does not matter to us, because Einstein comforts us. He tells us that, “Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds. The mediocre mind is incapable of understanding the man who refuses to bow blindly to conventional prejudices and chooses instead to express his opinions courageously and honestly.” It is good to be different, it is good to be unique, it is good to have an identity, to have a purpose. We are butterflies now, and the answers to all the questions  we ever desired to know the answers to are all within us. Now we pray that you go declare yourself, because if you do not do it, humanity will do it for you. And, you will live a life filled with pleasing others. You will live a life filled with a heart that exists in the hands of people. And, your happiness will be dependent on the acceptance of others. One day, this may cause you to burn others for not following your religion, it may cause you to hurt others like Hitler did, it may cause you to do the cruellest things all because the insecurity within your being is unbearable. Declare yourself, and set yourself free. And never, ever, ask the world “Who am I?”, because nobody has the right to answer that but you. The greatest corruption in the universe comes from not knowing thyself, and then trying to find yourself in the smiles of humanity as a result. Somewhere off in the distance, someone is declaring his identity under a pebble, under a grain of salt, under a sand dune, inside of a wet marsh where light gets trapped but never escapes. Somewhere off in the distance there is a boy who has declared his mission in life, and he will see through to it that it gets fulfilled. A girl no longer scratches the horizon with her fingernail, because she now hopes to break through it inside of a spaceship designed by her own two hands. We are no longer falling Icaruses.

Sources

. “Alabama Clergymen to Martin Luther King, Jr., Prompting his Letter from the Birmingham Jail.” Abortion – Pro Life – Priests for Life. 17 Mar. 2009 <http://www.priestsforlife.org/articles/kingltroriginal.htm>.

Greene, Robert. 48 laws of power. New York: Penguin Books, 2000.

Homer. The Iliad of Homer. New York: University Of Chicago P, 1961.

“Letter from a Birmingham Jail [King, Jr.].” African Studies Center, University of Pennsylvania. 17 Mar. 2009 <http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html>.

Cousens, Gabriel. Spiritual Nutrition Six Foundations for Spiritual Life and the Awakening of Kundalini. New York: North Atlantic Books, 2005.

Emerson, Ralph W. Walden, Essays on Nature.

“Memorable Albert Einstein Quotes.” ASL & Associates’ Home Page. 06 May 2009 <http://www.asl-associates.com/einsteinquotes.htm>.

More, Thomas. Utopia (Penguin Classics). New York: Penguin Classics, 2003.

Rand, Ayn. Anthem. New York: Boomer Books, 2007.

Rand, Ayn. The Fountainhead (Centennial Edition Hardcover). New York: Plume, 2005.

Final Note: The writing style of this essay was inspired by Ayn Rand’s book Anthem, not in the sense of how it is written, but in the reference to the word “we” constantly being used. I hope you enjoyed this paper.

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