The sky threatened throughout the journey home as I dragged my body along the newly-opened Circle Line of the MRT. I groaned at the thought of not having an umbrella. The dark clouds looked somehow majestic as they rolled with the pregnant wind; the trees obeyed as they swayed in fear with lightning cracking the horizon. It even looked poetic. Then as I stepped onto the feeder bus home, it started to pour.
I felt helpless. Lugging my sports gear and fatigued calves, I dreaded getting off the bus. Should I wait at the busstop till the rain subsided? Should I make a dash? Drama-mama as it may be, I actually felt helpless to the weather I had no control over. I had an overwhelming feeling that there was something greater than I.
The previous evening I attended the funeral wake of a close buddy's father. Uncle had passed away due to post-surgery complications. It was a simple procedure that was meant to come and go. And his son in Glasgow never expected him to go forever. I knOw the family, and it pained deep inside as I hugged his mother to convey my condolences. Again, I was engulfed in that same helplessness, that alot was beyond my control, out of our hands. There was something greater than I.
A farmer once said he keeps faithful to a Greater Being because each time he ploghs his fields, he shudders with fear the lack of rain, something that is way beyond his control.
Perhaps it is because my urban life is so antithetical to the farmer's that I forget sometimes that I am not the centre of the universe.
Some might disagree, but I have found others that agree; that our urban lives so enveloped by Western-individualism, avatar-creating virtual space and individual-centric technology, that it is sometimes hard not to think of oneself as the centre of the universe. Take for instance Facebook. It encourages an individualistic outlook on things; posting personal updates, sharing links, profile pictures thinking the rest of the world will be interested in our lives. Not that it is at all a bad thing, it is just very easy to step across the line of being slightly narcissistic. Perhaps this is not true for many, but I am at least certain for some this happens. Virtual reality helps us create worlds that puts us and only us at their centres.
But I am not saying farmer-life is better. I am not saying stop playing Farmville on Facebook either. Rather, at least for me, I must (and want) to resist the urge of modernity's push towards self-centeredness. Perhaps it might take a lifetime to justify this resistance, but I am certain this resistance to self-centeredness appeals to us intuitively to some extent if we think about it hard enough.
So I decided to enjoy the rain. Instead of bitching about the uncontrollable, I slung my bags snugly and stepped out into the rain. Those taking shelter at the busstop looked at me. I choose to think that it was looks of admiration, not insanity, to walk in the thunderstorm. It felt liberating to embrace the kind of storm that drenches you 'within 2 seconds' as Val puts it.
I enjoyed the stroll in the rain as umbrellas shuffled past me. My slippers attacked puddles on the ground, my bag collected water as I looked to the heavens and smiled. Mummy looked shocked to find a drenched me as she hurried me into the house.
I guess I can continue living in my self-centred world, but at the same time to appreciate the possibility that there is something, Someone, greater than I.
