I never mention people by name on my blog, but I think this time I’ll make an exception. I was just listening to some voice notes my friend Vishnu sent me about his acting and shadow work. He was talking about how his dive into theatre has been deeply entwined with his spiritual journey and has involved some incredibly deep realisations about himself. He talked about putting on masks, resurfaced childhood memories of feeling unloved, and being his most authentic self. Vishnu and I have been close. There’s a part of me that only he has ever understood, just as there is a part of him I have understood. We share some similar history and share a deep respect for our psyches and what mindfulness can reveal to us. So it’s no surprise that I had the following realisation while listening to his voice notes:
Recently, I’ve become increasingly aware of the defining moments in my life. These are moments wherein I overcome my often unlabelled and unidentifiable, but still very present, inhibitions and do something my ideal self would have done. I had one a couple of months ago when I told a friend that some things she says to me/about me bother me. I had one a few weeks ago when I accepted that being slightly distant, but still warm, was a healthy shift in my relationship with someone I consider close. And I had one a couple of days ago when I handed a beggar sitting at a church entrance two apples.
I was in Ghent this past weekend. It’s a city I’ve visited a few times now. There’s a sweet familiarity to its streets, churches, and buildings. I like Ghent. I have visited the St.-Baafskathedraal every time I have been there. I’ve felt the presence of what I believe to be God in the churches and cathedrals of Ghent. There’s a beautiful hum of energy especially in St.-Baafs, maybe that is why I experienced this defining moment at the threshold of this cathedral. I was there with my aunt this weekend, she was visiting from India, and we had a hotel booked for our night in Ghent. That morning, we had a full breakfast and we even picked up some extra fruits (two green apples, one peach, and one orange) in addition to a croissant and a pain au chocolat. We also had some leftover dinner from our meal at a restaurant the previous night. Basically, we had a lot of food in our backpack.
St.-Baafs was a the first cathedral we were visiting for the day. We were still stuffed from our hearty breakfast. I was feeling good. I was feeling happy to be back on Dutch-speaking land after spending two nights in Paris. My mood was high as we approached St.-Baafs. Like I said, I was happy. Until I saw a middle-aged woman hunched over by the stairs at the entrance of St.-Baafs, her palms spread out, begging for food, money, maybe something else. I can’t really picture the scene exactly anymore, but I can still access the feeling. I still feel it, deep in my chest. I felt something move within me when I saw her. It wasn’t a jolt. More like a stir in my psyche. Something shifted. As I approached those stairs, I saw both tourists and Christians entering to pray brush past her as if she didn’t exist. She might as well not have, as far as they were concerned, I think. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I approached the stairs, but once it was my turn to climb the three stairs that led to the entrance, I found myself averting my gaze and brushing past her too. And that did not sit well with me.
We must have been in that cathedral for twenty minutes, at least. My aunt was taking pictures and roaming the large hall, admiring architecture she had never seen before. She was enjoying herself. Blissful. Yes, that’s what she was. But all I could think of was the woman outside. I wanted to give her the apples we had. I wanted to storm out of the church, turn a blind eye to the beautiful stained glass and religious motifs spread across the room, and hand her those apples. But something within me resisted. During those twenty minutes, I faced a deep internal struggle that I don’t fully understand. I knew I wanted to give her those apples. I knew that that’s what the ideal version of me would do. The ideal me would not hesitate for a single moment. She would simply walk out and hand that woman those apples. She might hold the woman’s hands in hers for a moment or possibly even give her a hug. The ideal Aditi would make this woman feel loved, important, cared for. That’s who I want to be. But something deep inside me held me back. I went back and forth many times, oscillating between either handing her the apples or not. In those moments, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that was holding me back. I still don’t fully get it, but I think part of it was definitely that no one else around me was doing it. Giving her those apples meant stepping over some invisible line, into a world wherein I was not like the others around me. And that was scary to me. Still is, I think. Instinctually, I leaned towards giving her those apples, but realising that no one else would do what I was considering doing stopped me from going through with it.
The back and forth was a subtle torture for me. I was especially worried about whether my aunt would respond negatively if I suggested we should give the woman the apples we had. As time ticked by, I found myself more torn about what to do. All of this probably sounds dramatic to anybody reading this. But this is really what I felt. Anyways, my aunt eventually suggested we leave and my time was up. I had to make a decision. We were making our way to the exit, we were out the door, walking down the stairs, and ten feet away from the entrance of the cathedral and I still didn’t know what to do. For a moment, I settled on not giving her the apples. I was this close to walking away. I was this close to being like everyone else who walked past her that morning. But ten feet away from the church, I stopped walking and decided that was not the person I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be the person who walked away. I didn’t want forcefully desensitise myself to those whose struggles I want to lessen.
So I took a small risk. I asked my aunt if I could go hand her the apples. As I asked the question, I was afraid that she would ridicule me and tell me we shouldn’t waste those apples and we could eat them later. I was surprised when she pleasantly agreed, as if it was so obviously okay for me to suggest such a thing. I don’t know why I was surprised. My aunt is a kind person. I suppose I was simply projecting my internal struggle onto her.
My aunt’s approval was the final push I needed to actually go through with it. So I went up to the woman and handed her the apples. In Dutch, I told her, “Good morning, ma’am. I have these two apples for you.” She looked up at me and something soft but infinitely powerful shone in her eyes. It wasn’t gratitude, exactly. It wasn’t joy, wasn’t innocence, wasn’t wisdom. I can’t exactly pinpoint it, but recalling now, it felt like an amalgamation of the feeling of being seen and an appreciation of sorts. Her “thank you” in English was quick and soft, but genuine. And I was so glad I did it. I am still so glad I did it.
This was a defining moment in my life. I am not someone who turns a blind eye to those whose pain I can clearly feel. I am someone who reaches out to them despite the neglect of those around me. As I grow older, I think I’m going to make it a point to help at least one person during each vacation I take. Rather than money, I’d like to give them food, blankets, or clothing.
While narrating this incident to Vishnu, I used an interesting metaphor to describe the personal significance of this incident. I see my current self and authentic self as two plains separated by a deep canyon. My awareness of the flaws and areas for improvement within myself are equivalent to measuring the width and depth of this canyon. My defining moments, specifically those in which I overcome my internal inhibitions and act in the way my ideal self would, are the building blocks for a bridge between my current self and authentic self. Every time I fail to overcome my inhibitions, my bridge stays the same or slightly weakens. I don’t want that for myself. My goal is to successfully experience defining moments that allow me to build a strong bridge. That’s my priority for the next few years.
Memoirs of a Muse 