i try. i tried. i am trying again.

I try hard to be present in the moment but I can’t. Despite my body being present in the here and now my mind is too busy studying myself. I am too self aware. I am talking. Words are coming out of my mouth. Coherent sentences are being formed about topics I am interested in, issues that I am passionate about, books that I have read, opinions that I hold but I am too concerned with how I will be heard. When I’m listening I am too concerned with how I appear when I am listening. When I write my thoughts I am too concerned when how I will be read. When I read my words I immediately cringe because I feel that my feelings are unjustified, my thoughts are scattered, lacking flow, depth and sincerity. When I post my work online I have to fight the urge to take it down because I doubt that I am in the position to write for I think my life is dull and I am gauche. Despite experiencing love, being educated, having a family, travelling to a few places I feel that I still lack the authority to write about it, express it, be someone that others can turn to on the topic. My 30 years of experience I feel isn’t enough. It cannot begin to count yet therefore I should not write because I do not know the topic well enough I hear myself saying. Any compliment about work that I have produced meets me with unease and discomfort, these kind words of praise on twitter are not meant for me. I am just waiting until someone discovers the truth about me and exposes me as a fraud. So I beat them to it. I don’t give them a chance to criticize me, I leave writing up to those who I think do it best. And I read their work. Support them and let them succeed in the realm that I want a take up space in. In a realm that I know in my heart that I can own, I do not make myself known. When I am eating, I am aware that I am eating. I can feel the food in my mouth but I can’t taste it on my tongue because I am concentrated on not spilling it in my lap. When I’m laughing I know that I am laughing and am concerned with how I look when I am laughing. In the midst of all this self doubt I am limiting myself. Letting myself simmer in mild neurosis and I am self aware of that too. I just want to be like how everyone else appears to me and I am aware that I want to be like how everyone appears to me.

Others appear to own themselves, the environment they are in and the space they take up. They’re the captain who not only looks perfect in the uniform they wear but can also fly the plane. All of this is ironic because as I speak about appearance I know that I am an appearance to all those that appear to me, those that I want to be like. But I can’t. I am deeply flawed and can’t entertain the thought that others that appear to me are also deeply flawed beneath their beautiful polished surface. I may look like a captain to them but if they put me in the pilots seat I would not know how to fly the plane whereas they look like the captain and they know how to fly that plane! So I assume. And I am going to leave flying the plane to others because I cannot see myself anything like those sort of people that appear around me.

I need to break out. I have to break out. I have began to realize that everyone is only as they seem to be and they only appear to to me as such because I have created them to be such in my head at my expense. Each time I give up and let others succeed I am preserving the difference between me and them, the insecure self portrait that I have painted of myself and the secure portraits that others have sold to me. Having been too caught up in myself I took a step back and realized that those who I admire are just as deeply puzzled at life, take massive shits that stink up the bathroom, have doubts, insecurities, regrets and sometimes take the shirt they threw into the hamper out, iron it and wear it. I let myself turn my insecurities into internalized proofs thereby validating the pictures that others have created of me. It is now up to me to take this self-awareness that I gave the power to control me, limit me, make me dizzy with doubt to do the polar opposite.

i try. i tried. i am trying again.


I covered her eyes with my right hand. “Don’t look! Don’t look!” I said to my sister who was sitting to my left on a bicycle rickshaw as we were passing the gate of the Golden Temple on a gloomy grey humid summer afternoon. I had already seen hints of the giant golden structure that illuminated through one of the tall gates that enveloped the temple, all three of us promised each other not to peak. The gold pierced through the gates like rays of the sun. Each gate facing the cardinal directions East, West, North and South so that a person can enter the temple from any direction her religion dictated, each direction welcoming people from all walks of life regardless of religion, caste, creed, ethnicity, sexual orientation and race. There was a sense of comfort being so close to the Gurdwara, it felt like a home away from home.

The skies began to darken and it appeared that the light rain could be replaced with a heavy shower in any moment now. Our large suitcases fastened securely behind us, stuffed with our lives kept bumping up and down as the wheels of the rickshaw went over rubble increasing my anxiety that the rickshaw could tip over into a puddle of water marking us with cuts, scrapes and bruises and a trip to the local hospital. The sound of car and bicycle horns in the chaos of traffic outside of the sacred complex filled our ears, the intense heat mixed with the dizzying smell of pollution and roadside dhabba cooking oil used to fry samosas filled our noses and despite the two hour car ride in the rain to get into the city my tiredness was slowly being replaced with excitement. We had just arrived in Amritsar from Una, two weeks into our one month trip to India in July of 2012.

The first time I had ever visited the Golden Temple was when I was eleven years old and I have been visiting the Golden Temple almost every day with my grandmother as she watched a live telecast of the morning and evening prayers on T.V. Although not present physically, my vivid memories of echoing ardas blaring from the speakers and a starry cold night transported me there. After years of dreaming about Amritsar, imagining how it would feel to be sitting by the pool of water I was finally there. After checking into our accommodations, freshening up and having a light snack (which consisted of Uncle Chips (which are amazing! I love them but can’t find them in Canada, along with some Aquafina water because everything we drank was filtered to prevent our weak little touristy tummies from getting sick) we ventured to the premises of the temple.

I walked through the giant white marble gates and removed my shoes to wash my feet. The marble floor was sun kissed and felt warm beneath my toes, different from how it felt 15 years ago in the middle of the winter when the white marble was a frozen slab making it completely unbearable to walk on even while wearing the thickest of socks. I walked into the tiny basin of water to wash my feet and walked out, with my feet still wet I continued on adoring the white marble encrusted with precious stones arranged in a decorative Islamic-style floral print into the complex still in awe of where I was. The volume of the shabad increased as I approached the middle of the complex, before my eyes was the sarovar, a giant pool of water that surrounded the Golden Temple. The refection of the Golden Temple in sarovar was spectacular, I was unable to decipher whether I looking at a expressionist painting or was in a dream or if this was my reality. I was in complete bliss.

The place was even more beautiful than I had imagined it to be and the Golden Temple was breathtakingly stunning. The free standing 22 karat gold plated structure was radiant and there was a sublime peacefulness that blanketed the complex. It was surreal, a retreat for a wandering curious and philosophical mind that was seemingly sure of the nature of reality and rejected the existence of God but accepted the possibility of there being one. A perfect place for contemplation and reflection, a place in which it is so easy to lose track of time. The aura around the shrine was indescribable, it was alive with religious fervour and sacredness that one did not have to be the least bit religious to feel. There was a felt warmth, intensity, and sincerity that could not be replicated nor matched as I made my way to the Harmandir Sahib waiting my turn in line amongst the devoted pilgrims that crowded in to bow my head before the Guru Granth Sahib, the sacred holy book.

I don’t believe in a God. It’s a conscious and educated decision that I made when I turned eighteen. In my last year of high school I began to question concepts and ideas that were presented to me as absolute knowledge as a kid growing up. Is lying absolutely wrong? Is there such thing as doing “good”? Why should I give to charity? Why should I vote? Why should I shower every morning? And Since God played such a huge role in my life (as it was the cause of early morning Gurdwara trips that interrupted not only my precious sleep but Sunday morning cartoons) it was going to go under the most scrutiny.

After some careful thought with the aid of some highly intelligent professors and lots of deep reflective reading (along with regular coffee) so good (the combination of course, because coffee on it’s own isn’t that great unless it’s sipped slowly in front of a very cute guy which hasn’t happened in a while and now I want to stop blogging and cry) that it kept me distracted from reality TV (at it’s prime. I decided. I couldn’t believe in God any longer, my reason would not let me and my new found concept of autonomy (thanks to Sartre) gave me the freedom to reject it.

An entity that I grew up being forced to believe in (because there was no alternative to not believing in God because it was a fact, God existed. And also freedom of thought wasn’t a thing growing up in our house) was omniscient, benevolent and omnipresent and after some thought God turned out to be quite the opposite. There seemed to be some contradictions in God’s characteristics that I could not iron out.

God is benevolent. God loves every one of her/his creation and like a good parent she/he plays no favourites. However the state of the world seems to suggest quite the opposite. On Earth more than 3 billion people live on less than $2.50 a day, millions of people don’t have access to clean drinking water and basic sanitary washrooms. Many are subject to cruel and unusual punishment, have incurable diseases or diseases in which there is a cure except only they do not have enough to money to afford to buy the medication, so many people die from natural disasters, fetuses are aborted because they are the “wrong gender” (typically the baby girl sex), children have to choose between an education or are forced to work in order provide for their family thereby being robbed of a childhood, womyn are married off to men they hardly know and people live in cities that are constantly under a smog advisory (only to name a few evils). Conversely on the same Earth the Kardashian’s are rich and famous for being stupid and have the opportunity and means to purchase a handbag that costs enough to feed a family of 3 for an entire year (assuming the family resides in North America), purchase a car that costs enough to sustain a household of 5 and perhaps live comfortably 10 life times over on their total asset. Point made. Now how can there be so much evil in a world where God is all loving? How could many people on Earth live in such dire conditions while the same people on Earth live in comfort, excess and quality? This lead me to question God’s benevolence.

God is omnipotent, she/he has the power to do anything which includes the humanly impossible which means preventing evil which includes all of the above mentioned ones and many more (including and not limited to people taking selfies, the word selfie even being a word in the dictionary, people who cannot spell and people who smell). However her/his omnipotence seems to be at odds with God’s omniscience and more importantly, it is at odds with the existence of evil.

God is omniscient, God is the most intelligent being in the world. But how can God be all knowing in a world where so much evil that I have mentioned exists? Wouldn’t her/his foreknowledge prevent all the massive amounts of evil and also prevent the Kardashians from having their show renewed for yet another season? And also prevent me from the sheer misery of serving the stupid, smelly, uneducated, rude and disgusting (only to name a few) general public at the bank which causes me so much anger and frustration? So it seems to me that either three of the possibilities are true: 1) either God is not omniscient because if she/he was God’s intelligence would allow her/him the foreknowledge to prevent disasters from occurring, God could create a different outcome 2) God is intelligent but not benevolent because although she/he has the intelligence to prevent evil from happening God does not love human beings enough to provide them all with a high level of quality of life or 3) God is not omnipotent because if God were then God would have the power to prevent evil from occurring especially since God has the foreknowledge. 4) God has the knowledge but does not have the power to prevent evil.

One natural disaster occurs after another, war, famine and death of so many innocent children seems to be a natural recurrence. Furthermore, how can God’s omniscience exist alongside human free will? If God is omniscient then do humans have free will? The concept of free will becomes the centre of controversy as if God is omniscient and human beings do not have free will then they are fated. Which essentially means that we can do whatever we want and our actions cannot be subject to moral judgement. If this is the case then tomorrow I will just sleep in a bit, skip work entirely and watch youtube videos all day because this is my fate, God wanted it that way.

Of course if I did this I’d get fired (and lose my means to travel) but how can I be morally judged for this? Also, if I began to lie to my boss, and presented her with excuses as to why I repeatedly don’t show up from work then my lying cannot be subject to moral judgement because I was fated to lie.

I was unsettled at the thought of human beings being in possession of free will if God supposedly “knew all”, and was not willing to entertain the thought of mild determinism and completely rejected determinism and fatalism. I could not take seriously arguments for God’s benevolent nature as God was then playing favourites, turning her back on half of the world’s hungry, allowing them to starve and die while those in the “first world” lived in luxury (that includes those on welfare because this is welfare in a country with a relatively better standard of living than other countries).

So now the question I have been asking myself for years. Given that I do not believe in God, reject God’s existence but believe (since it is human to err) that there could be the slightest possibility that I am wrong and that God does exist (but unlike Pascale I am unwilling to make a wager in God’s favour) why do I go to the Gurdwara?

The Gurdwara for me has been a part of my upbringing. Sikhism taught me (despite being rooted in the foundation of God) about humanity, compassion for others especially those that might be your “enemy”, forgiveness, giving back to the community, how to be selfless and how to live a truthful and honest existence (truthfully and honestly as possible, of course it is impossible to be truthful and honest at all times). Of course one can look at me and say “ah ha! So you’re saying that God is required in order for morality to exist!”. No, I am not saying that because morality would exist in a world where God does not exist, morality would exist in communities in which there is no concept of God and it does. Morality could exist in both a God existing and Godless world because people would be bound by telling the truth, living honestly, being compassionate and caring by virtue of existing amongst each other. Doing the opposite would null and void the meaning of all those words, honesty would be an empty concept if no one was honest and everyone broke promises. It is just that the family I was born into are  I was born into was where I learned those concepts and when I bow my head before the Guru Granth Sahib I bow my head before the wisdom contained in the lines written by the Gurus who did not claim to have God like powers but taught Sikhs, Muslims and Hindus alike how to be better humans in order to live a fulfilling and meaningful life during our short time here on Earth.


this morning at 6am

When do you get the time to blog so much? he asked. I usually write as I drink my green tea and get ready for bed. It’s when I feel the most relaxed and comfortable to come face-to-face with my thoughts and myself. People are judging you by your blogs. He said. People judge me regardless I replied. Everyday. They judge me on my looks, the clothes I choose to wear and what I say. I’m not concerned. I don’t care. I am comfortable with who I am. You need to reinvent yourself he said. I am not Madonna I replied. This is a stage, I am an actor but I’m playing myself. I’m a multifaceted creatures living in a dualism. Trying to make sense of my physical and non physical elements that make up my being. A being that feels alienated and lonely and trapped in her body by her body and facticity. Coming to terms that I am finite and am heading towards an inevitable death and ageing is a process that I cannot stop, I cannot pause, I can only cover up with makeup and creams and slow it down with fruits enriched with antioxidents (like blueberries!). I observe. I think too much, I feel to much, I want so much! I analyze everything and I am overwhelmed by my freedom so much so that I crawl into queitism. I let time to take me places that I don’t want to be. I am in and out of my body every minute. A subject and object, my biggest cheerleader and my worst critic. I transcend and fall back to immanence. I fly and only have myself to fall back on. I am responsible for myself and you.  I’ve had my heart broken. I have been used. I have felt personal success. I’ve felt incredible highs and the harshest of lows. I know failure. I feel disappointment. I feel big. I feel small. I know happiness. I am aware that it is fleeting. I feel like I am wandering. I’m a walking contradiction. There are many elements to me (like there is to every one of us) but when I’m faced with my computer screen and my mind reflects on my body’s engagement to the world today, my fingers begin to type my thoughts and it becomes my blog post that you read. The themes are reoccurring. I miss India, I am heartbroken and I feel that I am beyond repair. Unrequited love seems to be my favorite. I am broken incapable of being fixed. I fantasize Karan Johar reading my blogs and turning them into a movie. I want to be adored. I need attention. I want attention. I also want to be left alone! But this is not all of me. This is the me that I am exploring on a stage that is wordpress. The me that I want to work on through writing. These are boring re-occurring themes that I apologize for continuing to explore when I could dive into other aspects of my life but perhaps I don’t want to share them with you. Does that mean that when you write about me it is boring? Absolutely not I replied. You make me want to write I thought, you’re inspiring but I didn’t tell him. (He is, he does what he wants). People don’t see what you see when you look in the mirror he said. OK, no more, you’re making me feel bad I replied. It was 6 am in the morning. We are more than what we appear to be. When I look at myself in the mirror I see a stranger. I sometimes think shes pretty and most of the time don’t want to look at her because I hate her. I want to look like HER. When I step out of my room the world seems to want to look at me and smile. To them I meet the physical criteria of beauty. They look, they wonder, they ask, they imagine, they touch, they lick, they’re aroused, they leave. For me Aesthetics is only a subject in which I got a B+ But I like the way you express he went on to say. You don’t have to like my blog, I replied.

He is a dear friend.

this morning at 6am