I was given the ‘Sisterhood of the world blogger award’ by Mon (click). Thank you, Mon, for this award. I am an introvert even on social media (yes, some introverts become extroverts on social media :D. Just kidding!) so, I don’t do anything like this. But there’s no harm in doing something different, right? So, the person who gave me this award wants me to answer some questions.
Q. What if your most liked post from my blog 😛 ?
A: It is hard to choose one. I actually loved all her posts on vulnerability (click). It takes guts to be vulnerable when everybody is busy protecting their fragile egos. Besides those, I loved her feminist posts (example: this). I am against Burqa/Hijab ban because I honestly think that you cannot ‘impose’ your version of freedom on others. So, I would suggest those who support Burqa/Hijab ban to check out this post (click). There are places I don’t exactly agree but it is a great post, nonetheless.
Q. What is your most liked book?
A: THIS WAS TOUGH. I wanted to break the rule again but I will choose ‘Siddhartha’ by Hermann Hesse.
Q. Most liked song:
A: This is a cover of Josh Groban’s song:
Q. Most liked video
A: This is one of the most beautiful and inspiring TED talks:
Q. Funny Video
A: Because Superwoman rocks.
Q. Most liked quote:
A: Okay, this is not a quote. This is an excerpt from a letter by Ted Hughes (Sylvia Plath’s husband) to his son. This is a beautiful letter and I want everybody to read it so I will just use the opportunity to share this with you. There is a reason why I chose this: it talks about ‘childishness’ and some people might find this ‘tagging’ thing childish.
When I came to Lake Victoria, it was quite obvious to me that in some of the most important ways you are much more mature than I am. . . . But in many other ways obviously you are still childish — how could you not be, you alone among mankind? It’s something people don’t discuss, because it’s something most people are aware of only as a general crisis of sense of inadequacy, or helpless dependence, or pointless loneliness, or a sense of not having a strong enough ego to meet and master inner storms that come from an unexpected angle. But not many people realise that it is, in fact, the suffering of the child inside them. Everybody tries to protect this vulnerable two three four five six seven eight year old inside, and to acquire skills and aptitudes for dealing with the situations that threaten to overwhelm it. So everybody develops a whole armour of secondary self, the artificially constructed being that deals with the outer world, and the crush of circumstances. And when we meet people this is what we usually meet. And if this is the only part of them we meet we’re likely to get a rough time, and to end up making ‘no contact’. But when you develop a strong divining sense for the child behind that armour, and you make your dealings and negotiations only with that child, you find that everybody becomes, in a way, like your own child. It’s an intangible thing. But they too sense when that is what you are appealing to, and they respond with an impulse of real life, you get a little flash of the essential person, which is the child. Usually, that child is a wretchedly isolated undeveloped little being. It’s been protected by the efficient armour, it’s never participated in life, it’s never been exposed to living and to managing the person’s affairs, it’s never been given responsibility for taking the brunt. And it’s never properly lived. That’s how it is in almost everybody. And that little creature is sitting there, behind the armour, peering through the slits. And in its own self, it is still unprotected, incapable, inexperienced. Every single person is vulnerable to unexpected defeat in this inmost emotional self. At every moment, behind the most efficient seeming adult exterior, the whole world of the person’s childhood is being carefully held like a glass of water bulging above the brim. And in fact, that child is the only real thing in them. It’s their humanity, their real individuality, the one that can’t understand why it was born and that knows it will have to die, in no matter how crowded a place, quite on its own. That’s the carrier of all the living qualities. It’s the centre of all the possible magic and revelation. What doesn’t come out of that creature isn’t worth having, or it’s worth having only as a tool — for that creature to use and turn to account and make meaningful. So there it is. And the sense of itself, in that little being, at its core, is what it always was. But since that artificial secondary self took over the control of life around the age of eight, and relegated the real, vulnerable, supersensitive, suffering self back into its nursery, it has lacked training, this inner prisoner. And so, wherever life takes it by surprise, and suddenly the artificial self of adaptations proves inadequate, and fails to ward off the invasion of raw experience, that inner self is thrown into the front line — unprepared, with all its childhood terrors round its ears. And yet that’s the moment it wants. That’s where it comes alive — even if only to be overwhelmed and bewildered and hurt. And that’s where it calls up its own resources — not artificial aids, picked up outside, but real inner resources, real biological ability to cope, and to turn to account, and to enjoy. That’s the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they’re suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. That’s why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember. But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shells—he becomes one of the walking dead, a monster. So when you realise you’ve gone a few weeks and haven’t felt that awful struggle of your childish self — struggling to lift itself out of its inadequacy and incompetence — you’ll know you’ve gone some weeks without meeting new challenge, and without growing, and that you’ve gone some weeks towards losing touch with yourself. The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.
Q. Most liked tag/topic:
I don’t really follow a lot of people here and I’m not sure if they will like somebody tagging them, so I will just ask a few questions and whoever is interested can answer them! My questions are a little weird (people usually don’t ask such questions in these type of posts).
1. If the voice in the head is you, who is the one listening to it? (read this somewhere)
2. If somebody gave you a chance to completely eliminate pain from your life and be happy always, would you take it? (heard this somewhere)
3. Imagine that you witness a runaway trolley that is on a collision course with a brick wall. You happen to be in the exact right place at the right time and can throw a switch to divert the trolley to another set of rails. The only problem is that there’s a man standing on those rails, and there’s no time to warn him.Do you throw the switch and allow him to die, or stand by and watch the many passengers on the trolley die? What if there was no switch, but instead a man sufficiently fat enough to stop the trolley if you pushed him in front of it? Do the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many?(heard this in Michael Sandel’s brilliant JUSTICE course and here’s the text source)
I don’t think I should I ask more questions :D.