Last week was a hectic one. I was invited to a trip, which I could not deny. Though, I was going to the mountaineous reigns; however, my body and mood was looking for something else. And yes, it was mostly free for me.
So, today I have decided to write without thinking a lot. Usually, before writing, I do lots of pre-writing acitvities: researching, writing hints, trying coherence, etc. Congratulations! I am already stuck, lol. I have been facing this problem for few days. I cannot think well. Although I know the reason behind it; but I am still escaping those thoughts. Maybe I should try writing about it.
(Taken by me)
Story goes back to six years. Out of nowhere, I decided to opt for Bachelors in Literature and Linguistics. This is where I came to know about Karl Marx and his theory of Communism/Marxism. No, I am not going to argue about it. No matter how much I hate capitalist system, but it is the most realistic and close to human nature. The real point is this quote by Marx: "Religious suffering is at one and the same time the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people." My interpretation says Marx is not criticizing religion; he is criticizing the capitalist system. Rest is on to you, how you interpret it.
Now imagine a person who was blindly following what his parents had taught him, and suddenly there is something he never thought about - questioning. This quote made me fell for literature. Next ahead majority of my courses were related to literature.
So what does literature teach you?
Absolutely nothing! You look at the surface, there is some meaning attached. Read a quote, take meanings literally and you are good. But, as soon as you dive deeper into it, you are done for. Welcome to the world of lonelies. In order to stay relevant, you will have to look for relevant people, perhaps a study-circle. Or some folks on Reddit. It is the best place to discuss philosophy and literature. However, those people are beyond my level, so most of the time I just read and read. Luckily, I found few friends with whom I can discuss such things - philosophy, society, history, and everything related to literature.
If you ask me, what is literature for me? I will say, "turning of blood into ink." Quite simple, isn't it?
Someone is writing to share their experiences, their thoughts, their not-so-normal ideas, and publishing with a pseudo name. Because there is high possibility that the society will start judging you. I agree that the modern time has changed a lot in this manner. People are actually becoming flexible with ideas. Maybe they came across Nietzsche (congrats to me I wrote the correct name): "The most dangerous form of blindness is believing that your perspective is the only reality."
Where are we getting?
Back to the most important lesson I learnt: questioning. From Marx to Nietzsche and every great writer, I started questioning everything.
Read Kafka, learnt that life can feel like a trial without a crime. Can? I doubt it, it is a punishment. Just kidding, hoping for the best.
Read Dostoevsky, learned that the deepest prisons are self-made. Got really scared of questioning part.
Read Flowers for Algernon, and fell deeper for literature, because it felt so strange and realistic.
Read Waiting for Godot, well that was the final nail in the coffin. I hope I used the right words.
The list goes on and on...
Absurdism
I started waiting for my own Godot. But the thing is, I have no idea who and what is Godot? There is God; yet there is suffering. Amen!
So what is the purpose of life?
Since then I have been searching for the meaning of life. Read some good literature regarding this, learnt a lot but felt nothing. Asked other human beings, got different answers. But still, stuck in a void. There is light, and there is hope. Still there is nothing at all. Should I go after religion? Mind you, I am a religious person. As mentioned earlier, "Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature." Am I really oppressed? "You have to let yourself free," said my psychatrist. Great! But what actually is freedom?
Perhaps I was not even born with my own choice.
So what actually is freedom? Is it the ability to choose, or merely thinking that I am choosing? Born into a religion, a language, a family (whic I love), a culture and society long before I could utter a single sigh. Even my own desires are not my own. They are shaped by the people around me, no matter how much I deny it. There are things I am consuming, the fears I inherited and the expectations I deny to carry. So, when someone says, "You have to let yourself free," I wonder - free from what? If every choice is influenced by something outside us, then where does freedom begin? The best and ugliest part is: this questioning is leading towards more questions.
Answer
By far, I have no answer for majority of questions. Or perhaps, I do not want to search for answers. I just want to stay curious my whole life. Maybe this "I" is the freedom for me. But what if I had not choosen Literature and went for something else? My freedom will surely be something else. Do I regret it? Not at all. It gave me more questions than answers. It made ordinary things feel complex and complex things impossible to ignore. I am going to question till I die. I will be searching for the purpose behind this worldy creation.
But for now, I am still waiting for Godot.
"The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for." - Dostoevsky.
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Peace 🕊️
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Anything to add? Feel free to add your valuable thoughts.
