Birthday

In 2005 I was in Brisbane, bunking over at a friend’s house. Selva and I were both transitorily ‘homeless’ on foreign soil and camped out in the living room for two weeks. Was doing a little housekeeping and discovered this draft. I am not sure why I had not posted this ... well its nearing my birthday once again. Better now then ever :)

1.34am, Feb 22, 2005.

It is my birthday today. Another year passed. I wake up not feeling any older, nor wiser. Two days ago, I had a short conversation with a fellow 'refugee', Selva. "No one has the right to die", he finally said after a long pause.

It was 1am, we were both unable to sleep because of the summer heat. I was up reading an article by William Charlton, who philosophised the meaning of dying and argues that the phrase "the right to die" should really be "the right to be killed or be killed". "... in fact, we do not even have a right to be born", Selva says with much conviction. "We did not ask to be born, and in the same way, we cannot ask to die."

Selva practises Hinduism. He believes that God's power is only manifested if man allows it or wills it. "He lives in here...", he points to his heart. "When we are born, God is born, and Satan is born too"

I try not to think that my sacred passage into the world is accompanied by such an unwelcome entity. But its too late - my imagination gets the better of me. I take a moment to purge the visions out of my head.

I try to think what it must have been like to be Born; but I carry no memory of the moment I was born into this world. However, I can imagine...
Sensorial bombardment,
Contractions and pulsations
Turmoil.
Anxious blinding distress
Amniotic turbulence.
Violent transitions
Wild uncertainty.
Strength.
Fatigue.
Muffled cries
of both child and mother –
The unstoppable sheer instinctive will
To live
and to let live.
this world;
Blood
Air
Light
Sound
Touch
Love

Hmmm… Birth, is actually a dangerous and traumatic experience, for both mother and child. Prior to this, I had not given the matter much thought and merely subscribed to a rosy, Hollywood glamorous, picture of birth.

I can understand why the Selva believes that the devil accompanies us at birth. The temptation for mother and child to give up the struggle of the transition must have been great. Yet, yet our mothers did not, despite experiencing indescribable acute pain. And even as tiny fledgings, we too have somehow persevered and survived birth. We trusted our mothers and followed the beat of our hearts to be Born.

I can’t see anything. I can only hear my heart beating, in the silence of the night, as I lay nestled cosily in my sleeping bag. I smile and snuggle into a foetal ball...

I am comforted too that friends will somehow pull through the doldrums; afterall, they already survived the worst - they were Born.

Thank you God, thank you for everything. This birthday, I am content; knowing that if God delivered me through my own birth, He will deliver me through and through.