Lessons From The Little Prince

Well, it's time to counter some of the negativity in this blog. We need to have a happy-mushy post for the sake of balance.

The Little Prince is one of my all-time favorite books. The lessons to be learned from that short but profound book are priceless and enduring. I think our society won't do bad if we include this title as one of the required readings for all levels of education. We can all grow up too easily, forgetting the children that we once were. Hopefully, that book can prevent kids from growing up into jaded, crooked, and useless adults like yours truly.

And so, I would like to outline some of the lessons that can be learned from The Little Prince. His simplicity and naiveté reveals the wisdom to be found in an innocent outlook in life.

What is essential is invisible to the eye

Of course, this is not referring to women's undergarments or bikini shots (though I would like to interpret it as such). It just points to looking for the essences of things and to not be preoccupied with appearances. Seems like a Buddhist teaching of trying to look beyond the tip your nose. For those who read the book, the previous line goes: It is with the heart that one can see rightly. Like looking for a well in the middle of the desert, or cherishing the house because of a secret treasure, it's not what we immediately see that gives importance. It's the essence and significance of an act, person, or event that's truly important. 

You're forever responsible for those that you tamed. 

This is not an S&M (the master is responsible for those which he/she trained) reference, though it can be. This is a reference to the importance of bonds that we make in our life. Friends, family, and loved ones--we are all responsible for those we have "tamed", and those who have "tamed" us. It's such a wonderful notion of looking out for each other and treasuring the connections that we made. As time goes by, it's easy to forget the friends that we made, the past loves, and even our relationship with our family. The simple reminder is that: we should not forget the bonds that we made. 

watch out for the baobabs!

In simple terms, just do not become an addict. Things start out simply, then they would spiral out of control if one is not watchful. Like with addiction, it starts with a simple try, then it would escalate to a habit, then full addiction. But in serious terms, there is the need for diligence and discipline. If you remember, the baobab was just teeny weed and the owner of the planet was a lazy bum. That laziness paved the way for the growth and the eventual invasion of the baobab. So, if you're not careful, you'll end up with something more than you can handle. Big problems always start out small. So stamp out that baobab! (Or weed)

Words are the source of misunderstandings.

Don't we all know it. It's just like saying someone is a good guy then stabbing him in the back. Gestures are stronger than words. Next time, don't say anything and just smack the guy right in the face. But going back to The Little Prince, this is what the Fox said to the Little Prince when establishing rites and taming someone (or something). It's essential to just be silent and let your feelings show through your actions. It just means there should be a feeling out process and let the relationship grow naturally. 

One must observe the proper rites...

You must be wearing a white robe, wash your neck and rinse your short sword with sake or alcohol. Then before slitting your stomach open, you also need to enlist the help of a trusted servant or friend to chop your head when things get too painful. You need to follow the rite, or a certain order of things. This what the wise Fox teaches us: there's a certain way in doing things, and you need to do things with regularity and patience. The Fox also tells us that these things take time, and so you have to wait it out. 

It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.

It's the direct invitation and license for us to waste our time. The more we waste time on something, the more important it becomes. The more we expend our efforts pursuing useless things, the greater the value there is. It's like giving us permission to keep on living fruitless lives. So, we can pick our noses, scratch our bums, and sit in front of the TV or game console for all eternity and it will be alright. 

But in the case of the Little Prince, it's about the investment of time. It is the time that you spent on someone or something that makes it significant and special. It indicates two things: it takes time to build a meaningful connection, and all that time spent is by no means for naught. 

There are several more lessons to be learned from The Little Prince. I know fans of this book would be wanting to kill me now, but that just shows my point: it's one great book. When someone makes fun of it, you feel obligated to protect it. Just like how you would like to protect the Little Prince like that pilot did (yes, you, you Pedo! Shotacon!). It's a must-read. It deserves saying again: it's a must read.

Silenced Through Silence

It was just a normal conversation but I had to mention something about the Absurd. I asked, "Don't you get the feeling that waking and getting up each morning is something unsettling?" I understood that it was a question loaded with a lot of philosophical junk, so I tried to explain the ideas of consciousness, being, the Absurd, and the desire for meaning. But the reply that I got was, "You're weird. Why do you even think about such things?"

I tried my best to explain myself once more. But she just gazed down at her plate of pasta in silence, looking annoyed and zoning me out. She would look up at me from time to time to show apparent interest, but she couldn't resist looking to the side with a slight frown on her eyebrows. She would then look down again at her plate and twirl the pasta on her fork. I think she was desperately wishing for me to stop yakking. She said nothing, but she expressed a lot. And so I stopped. I was silenced through silence. It was awkward since it lasted for a while, but she got the talk going again about an old friend and common acquaintance. We both looked relieved for before that I knew we were both wishing we were somewhere else but with each other. 

What interests me in that situation is the feeling of devastation. I felt my life drifting away as if she was slowly sinking a knife into my heart. Just like that soldier in Saving Private Ryan. There was the feeling of powerlessness, despair, and the sureness of the impending end. I felt like I was murdered magnificently. She managed to erase and deny my existence with ease and nonchalance. 

That was one of the occasions when you can see the opaqueness of the usually invisible wall between persons. It was like trying to talk through a clear soundproof glass. You know of each other's presence, but the words and thoughts just won't pass through. I felt like I was at the confined side of the glass inside an insane asylum. She never said a word, but the words "crazy" and "insane" sounded in my head with her own voice. I made no sense to her, and she didn't seem too fond of speaking with a lunatic. 

But what seems to be lacerating was how she stayed silent. It was a polite silence yet filled with restrained annoyance. I was pestering her, but she wouldn't want to be inconsiderate. But this quietude was not passive; it was the same as telling me to shut up and that she does not want to hear anymore. It seemed like it pained her to hear me talk like a madman, and I should stop humiliating myself for it's embarrassing for her to keep listening. It was pity mixed with contempt. I was just insulted out of politeness. 

I can still remember the anger and frustration. When words and thoughts don't connect, it's alienating. When it happens to you and people that you know, it's unsettling. You become strangers in an instant. The bridge that connects became a bridge that divides. You try to cross it, but it seems to spread out infinitely. The crack that would shatter the bond finally appeared, and it was just a matter of time before the shattering. 

She was not at fault. I would like to say it was all mine, but I don't think that would be true. I guess I should have chosen my audience. I'm not looking for anything or anyone to blame; I just needed an explanation. The difference between persons? It may be the possible cause, but I am far from consoled. What I know is even silence can cut deep into the heart and soul. Even politeness can carry the deepest insult. I'd prefer being silenced through violence than through silence. Humans have the latent talent to hurt each other. Even without knowing and willing, we give each other the gift of pain. All it takes is to silence someone with silence. 

Summer Street Sweeper

This was last summer. 

Seeing someone sweep the street in the middle of the burning sun is depressing. It seems a cruel fate to sweep the streets under the scorching summer heat. Then when you think about the repetitive nature of his job, it makes you think of Sisyphus and his rock. When you also consider the fact that he's cleaning up other people's mess, it makes it all the more depressing. You would get an idea that what he's doing is an endless task; add to that that it's a thankless one as well. It makes one really blue. 

As if that's not enough, consider also the pay that he's receiving for such a job. It would be great of he's even receiving minimum wage for his efforts. Somehow, the amount of work that he's doing isn't enough for the amount of effort that he's putting in. That's the depressing thing about it. You think there should be social justice. But that won't happen in a third world country. You just have to sigh at that fact. But sighing won't get us anywhere. 

You also need to consider that the man might not be even unhappy with his situation. What I'm doing is just making assumptions from what I'm seeing from the outside. There are several things to look at. Perhaps the man is simple enough to be happy and that he has a job. Perhaps he's happy just being able to bring money home food to the table. Perhaps he doesn't wish for much; he can be at peace with the idea that he has something for a living. 

Perhaps he has a loving family at home. Perhaps he has children who are proud of their father for being hardworking. Perhaps they don't mind their simple lot. Perhaps they too are thankful that their father has a job. Perhaps they can feel the pride of their father and feel proud about themselves, too. They might be poor, but they live an honest life. Perhaps the children would learn about hard work, sacrifice, and caring for the ones they love. Perhaps they would be inspired and actualize their father's dream of a better future for them. Perhaps they would give a bit of meaning to the endless sweeping of their father. Perhaps it would make the sweeping an act of significance. A means to a good end. 

But there could also be a negative image to this. Perhaps the sweeper isn't as hard working as he's supposed to be. Perhaps he was lazy during his youth: did not persevere in studying, did not maximize his skills and opportunities, did not live his life to the fullest. It would be romantic to say that he was forced to such a humble position by cruel fate, but that would make a mockery of the human will and spirit. You have to consider that most of the things in our life did not end up like that without our will. It's not like we are totally powerless to change our fate. 

It does make for a sight of pathos, that street sweeper. But then you have to temper that emotion with some facts and reason. One cannot feel entirely sorry for the guy, nor can you say that he absolutely deserves his position. 

What I can say for certain is that seeing him sweep the streets under the scalding summer sun makes me depressed. I thought that there must be a better life than that. 

On Abortion

Just to limit the discussion, I am writing here from an Ivory Tower. I am dealing with ideals here--the world of our visions and dreams. I do have my head in the clouds.

Let me start by saying that abortion is murder. It's the premeditated termination of another life. The real question about abortion is whether this is one murder we'll allow: just like capital punishment or euthanasia.

If you don't think that abortion is murder, I suggest that we call it as we see it. There is this argument that says before 14 weeks a fetus is not yet human. It does have a point, if we don't believe in causality and medical science. If you believe your gynecologist in matters of pre-natal care, then that blob of cells from the union of a sperm and ovum will become a human. If not, why do people even care about pregnancy? One can argue that this blob of cell is not human--well not yet anyway. The hilarious discrepancy here is that one can create a lot of fuss for an expected pregnancy but be cold-hearted towards an unwanted one.

If you want to be indirect yet factual, what you're killing is potential. You're not killing an infant, just the possibility of those cells becoming one. I like this argument since it is apologetic. It's just like leaving someone atop of Mt. Everest with limited oxygen. You're not killing the person outright; you're just limiting that person's potential for survival. Like telling someone to face a firing squad and evade all the bullets. It may not be murder, but it practically is. Do we really need to point a gun at the fetal skull and pull the trigger to call it murder? 

Well, should we allow abortion? There are medical and economic reasons saying why we should. As what the news said, unregulated abortion has been killing women left and right. In terms of economics, if parents can't give a decent quality of life, it might be better for all parties to chuck the kid out. In a larger sense, abortion can reduce overpopulation. These are strong practical reasons for supporting the legalization of abortion. 

But are these enough to end a life? This might be an unfair question, but it's a question that needs to be answered. It would be hard to give life a specified value since it would be demeaning-life is supposed to be invaluable. But for abortion to be allowed, you have to play god and decide who should live and who should die. 

I mentioned to someone before, the only way that abortion can be banned is if we all have a strong sense of social justice and responsibility. Abortion being an option implies that we all have become meaner and apathetic as a people. I'd say we've lost the Bayanihan spirit or the communal feeling. I believe that we were a kinder people before, but somehow we have lost that charity and feeling of community as the changes (or hardships) of time went on. I may be speaking in nostalgia, but I do think that people were more genteel, generous, and noble back then. This may be just a delusion of mine, but I would like to believe that this is true. This makes me think that the problem of abortion is one of cultural values rather than that of practical and health matters. 

How does this relate to abortion? Abortion exists as an option because we like to give people stigma, because we don't take responsibility for our actions, because we've become less forgiving, because we are uncharitable, because we don't think before we act, because we are weak and petty, because we forgot how to be nice in general, because we don't stick to what is right, and because we've forgotten how we were when we were children. It's a cultural thing, I tell you. 

Now, here's also this question: Is it really fair to let the child/fetus/blob of cells pay for it all? Is it alright to get away with murder so that we could just get on with our lives? Is it alright for us to just wash the blood off our hands in exchange of practicality? It is a sentimental argument, but how should we answer it? Killing a potential may be just an abstract action, but aren't we just kidding ourselves? If we didn't believe in the almost sure reality of that potential, then we shouldn't be as expectant with any pregnancy at all. 

What I would like to say is do you remember when as a kid you hated it when the adults did things which we thought was weird and was just plain wrong? I'm not referring to not letting you stay up late or not having more allowance. I'm pointing to the disgust and bewilderment that we felt whenever we saw our parents doing something they shouldn't be doing or saw the world acting contrary to what was taught to us. Haven't we somehow, at one point or another, vowed not to be like that when we grew up? Didn't we all make some form of resolution that we'll be better when we grew up? Weren't we all like the Little Prince before--innocent and good-hearted? 

In this here abortion, have we done that? Have we become adults ourselves? Have we forgotten our ideals? Have we forgotten how to be kind? One can say that kindness cannot feed the world or stop overpopulation. This might be true, but kindness hasn't killed anyone either (I'm not referring to euthanasia, mind you).