I’m a morning person. I’m at my brightest and sharpest between the hours of 5 AM and 11 AM. I’m also the happiest. But this morning, I woke up feeling so happy that it was unnerving. There were a bunch of birds singing outside the window, but that happens a lot these days. The sky was a gorgeous blue, and that also has become fairly usual.
Why am I feeling so pleased with everything, I wrote in my morning pages. In response, a voice in my head said some very unkind things, the gist of which was that I should be ashamed of feeling happy at a time like this. I have close friends who are working with patients with less than adequate PPE. In the last four and a half months, over 300,000 people have died of covid-19. It’s a frightening ticker tape, one of many frightening ticker tapes running through my head (in the same four and a half months, over 400,000 people have died of TB, and 150,000 women have died of pregnancy related complications). In India, the corona virus somehow also morphed into an anti-muslim virus.
These are depressing realities. Anyone who feels happy at this time is a callous asshole, said the mean voice in my head.
I hear you, MV. And I have a response. My response is a giant-sized metaphor, so bear with me.
Start of metaphor.
Let’s say I am one cell inside a body that has diabetes. This body’s glucose metabolism has been broken for a while. Many of my fellow cells died, many lie close to dying. Since I live inside this ecosystem of elevated glucose, I’m getting damaged too. But to a lesser extent than others. I could be a bone cell, better protected from the glucose damage, and my chances of dying are therefore lower than the cells that live in the eyes, kidneys, or toes of this body. The reason why the body got diabetes is partly because of bad genes, and partly because of bad decision making by the mind that runs this body. Some neuronal cells in the mind of this body are stupid to the point of being evil. They take short-sighted, harmful decisions. Every once in a while, they go get jalebis and worsen the glucose metabolism further. There are kind and sensible neurons too, working hard to drive our body towards healthy food, medication and exercise. It’s an ongoing battle.
I am one cell among a trillion other cells, and I have options on what I can do. I can be angry with the stupid neuronal cells which made all those wrong choices (choosing jalebis over broccoli and exercise) and landed us all into trouble. Did they not know it would hurt the entire body, and one day, it would hurt them too?
Or, I could see the pointlessness of my anger. I could shrug and see that they did what they were wired to do. I can send messages and urge them to do the right thing. It may help. I can work to protect the cells in this body’s eyes, toes and other places — cells which are at a higher risk of dying because of their position of exposure to sugar. I cannot protect them all, but I can protect some.
I don’t even have to choose a permanent path: some days I can choose angry ranting, other days I can walk towards acceptance and action.
All the while, I live with the knowledge that this body is going to die one day. No matter what we do, no matter how many right decisions we take, no matter how many jalebis we walk away from, one day this body will die. We can delay it, of course, so that it happens 100 years from now, rather than tomorrow. As an individual cell in this body, I could die today. There is a zero-to-hundred probability of my dying today — and my genetic material getting repurposed into something else. Why is that a tragedy? It is all part of the metabolic drama of being a body. I might scream and rant when I die, but that’s part of the drama too.
Once I understand the inevitability of death — both of this body, and of me the cell inside this body — my purpose becomes a little clearer. I can enjoy this opportunity to be alive and experience metabolism. I don’t feel any guilt about being happy in the middle of all the madness around me. Free of shame and anger, it is easier to offer love and protection to the other cells around me. Even to the ones that seem okay on the surface.
End of metaphor.
I did say it was a giant-sized metaphor. So this is the reason why I’m feeling happy: for some reason today, I’m able to see myself as a part of a larger, connected whole. This particular bit of mind is choosing to dwell on evidences of human kindness. For now.
I’m feeling joyful today, and I’m not sorry for it. I might get overwhelmed and sad tomorrow, and that would be okay too. One of these days, when I die, it will be with gratitude that this mind and this body experienced both joy and sadness in nearly equal measure.
