Years ago I read a remarkable piece about how we relate to our parents. I can’t remember the exact words or who wrote it and I can’t seem to find it online but I am forever grateful to whoever penned it.
It went something like this:
As a three year old, you think your parents know everything.
As a ten-year old, you begin to wonder, do your parents really know everything?
Then as a teenager you think your parents know nothing. Zero.
In your late twenties, you being to wonder again, maybe my parents know something.
As a thirty something year old, you think, my parents seem to know these things, maybe I should call mum and ask her.
As a forty year old, my parents definitely do know these things, let me call Dad, he will know what to do.
As a fifty year old all you can say is: I wish my parents were here.
Love your parents.
It’s strange that as we grow older we realize how much we really don’t know about life. When we are young we think things will always go according to plan. Then we start to struggle with our dreams, hopes and ambitions, as things become difficult. We realize rules do not always work as we expect. We discover life has so many ups and downs and there are no guarantees. We realize it’s not always the best person that gets the reward. It’s not always the smartest and most hardworking person that gets to be C.E.O. Those who marry early are not always the first to get a child. A good job can come to a sudden end due to things outside our control. We fall sick and loose loved ones. Disaster strikes and the house is burnt down. We realize how mortal we are and we could die anytime in a car accident.
Above all, happiness becomes so elusive.
We are forced to change and to adapt to situations. We learn how to navigate the storms and to ride the unexpected winds, as some things turn out far better than we expect while others come to naught.
Multiple philosophers have said reality exists out of our common constructionism. Whatever we commonly agree on becomes our reality; that things are dependent arising; that our common conception is what defines our reality because reality does not really exist.
You are human, simple. But you have been defined as African or Asian, Kenyan or Ugandan, intelligent or foolish, leader or follower. These definitions are not real. They don’t truly exist.
Language is nothing more than inhalation & exhalation of air in diverse ways to which a group of people attach meaning. The letters contained in this writing do not really exist. If they really existed then why is the same sound written differently in Chinese & Arabic?
English is of no more importance than Arabic or Kiswahili. The colour of skin is of no importance at all. It adds zero value to this world.
It is our beliefs that bring most things into existence. This is why our beliefs are important because they define our lives and who we are.
Your ‘reality’ & your ‘self’ depend on what you believe. You are capable of anything that any other human is capable of, regardless of how society has formed a definition of you.
So, do you believe in yourself or do you conform to what the world would want you to believe about yourself?
Open your mind. You are no lesser than any other.