NOVEMBER 17, 2011
There are places we walk to, not because we want to be there,
but because our inner humanity draws us there. And there are
worlds we come to belong, not because we belong, but because
these worlds welcome us with heavenly grace. We come to
dwell in these worlds, and we come to find in them a sanctuary
of our troubled lives.
our despair, troubles, and in our fear of losing our inner
humanity, these worlds come to be a home in which we find love
and understanding. But above all, it is in these worlds that we
find inspiration and the meaning of our existence.
And that meaning,
I have come to learn is simply a living cenotaph of what our
inner humanity should be. Love of our fellow human beings. A
love graced by God.
love beyond words of tongue and pen.
a love that hangs timelessly in the starlit dark night during
the nightmares of our despair, troubles and fears.
Through a calling that for years now, there are some that have
tried in vain to understand and reason why they walked into such
worlds. Looking back, they have no regrets that they did, even
though sometimes it has hurt their social and professional
relationships. Infatuation, obsession, are words many have come
to use in their infantile attempt to understand why there are
some that walk into such worlds and end up belonging.
What many of them do not understand is that we do not live our
lives for ourselves. Our lives belong to God and all that he
created in his image. And when we walk into worlds apart from
ours, and in which we find inspiration, love and understanding,
we should understand that our lives become a greater meaning
beyond our fascination with ourselves.
We can not be, without being in another. Our world has no
meaning if we do not listen to our inner humanity, for our inner
humanity always dwells in worlds apart from us.
Yesterday, November 16, 2011, I attended a seraphic and
melancholic burial service for Susan. It was unlike any other
burial service, I have ever attended. There were no dressed up
men and women in black. No loudly mourning women. No fancy long
luxury car procession. And no expensive hearse carrying an
expensive coffin. No open grave with marquees and chairs. No
preacher men howling heavenly damnation on us.
And, yes. No somebodies, nobodies and jackanapes wanting to be
remembered that they attended the burial service. In all the
multitudes of somebodies, nobodies and jackanapes that attend
many a funeral I have been to, only a smattering attends because
their inner humanity drew them to the departed. For most it is
merely a routine social ritual of ďpaying their respectĒ.
ďPaying ones respectĒ, is an adage I am yet to find meaning for.
Susanís burial service was different. It was orphic, for Susan
dwelled in a world apart from most of us. A world in which to
most, our ability to dwell in our inner humanity is simply a
delusion of our times of assumed understanding of the love of
As I watched the mother-provincial say the last prayers, and the
children lay flowers on Susanís small grave, I looked into the
yonder blue skies with melancholic deference. I never knew I was
so privileged to have happened to be in this world again.
In reminiscent moments of Susanís world, I recalled the times
Susan would smile at me in recognition. I recalled how in other
lonely times and wishful longings, I would tell myself that
tomorrow I will tell Susan to talk to me, stand up and walk with us. There
were times, I thought of myself as having powers beyond
humanity. And there was always the dream, that with Godís grace
and the love in Susanís world, tomorrow she will surely walk
All her life, Susan did not talk, walk with us, nor did Susan ran and
play with us. But Susan dwelled in a world that loved,
cherished, and nurtured her. The inner humanity that dwells in
her world, shone down on her like candlelight in a stormy dark
rainy night. Sometimes, I think Susan beamed with an
understanding and love that should surely draw us to realise
that she was not asking for more.
Susan was happy.
In hindsight, it is me that is not happy, not Susan. Susan
dwelled in a serene world, a celestial palimpsest of an inner
humanity which many can not touch. My dreams of having Susan
talk, walk and run with us, were merely a futile aspiration of
thinking my world is the world Susan also desired. How it be, I
could be so wrong.
Indeed, how it be, I could no decipher the eternal meaning of
children laying flowers on an unmarked small grave? How it be, I
did not read in Susanís smile that her world is as the world
Yes, a world where our despair, troubles and fears dwell not in
the sanctity of our inner humanity. That unknowingly we parade
our despair, troubles and fears like clowns in a carnival,
merely serves to enhance our inability to walk with the angels.
Indeed, the parade merely serves to reflect our unreasoned fear
of walking into better worlds.
Susanís world is a world we can not live apart. It is our world.
For Susan did not come from a God apart from us. Susan, like us,
is a child of God, and her world is how our world should be.
Tomorrow, as we walk and run with those we so proclaim to love,
let us know that if yesterday we did not dwell in Susanís world,
then we dwell not in the sanctity of God. We are merely a
delusion of the inner humanity that God so bestowed on us.
To all those that came before me, and those that shall come
after me, I call unto your inner humanity to realise that there
can never be a world without Susan.
Susan is us, and may her soul rest in everlasting peace.