Posted on by MukhtaarWaja · 1 Comment

How to Fight for Freedom and World Peace for All: A Student’s Guide to Solving the World

On the 14th of July 1798, heads rolled in the streets of Paris as the Bastille was stormed; and on the 14th of July 1999, I was born – two equally significant events! The spirit of rebellion and a drive for freedom percolates through every fibre of my being, inspiring me to push back against any threats to freedom I see! And, as a good-looking, straight, cis man, my freedom is, of course, threatened constantly. Granted, I have way more freedom than anyone who is anything other than a good-looking, straight, cis man… but I still have something to say about the fight for freedom! So, if you’ll permit me, dear reader, let’s talk about freedom! And rebellion…

There’s a famous quote by French philosopher Albert Camus about how “the only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” I’ve not read the book the quote is from – and I believe anyone who says they have is lying, and probably just watched a YouTube video about it – but it is a great quote. Camus has this incredible ability to find triumph in bleak circumstances – to present you with an unfree, volatile world, and show you how just existing can be something awesome. Our world can be incredibly bleak, and it’s easy to get swept away in the seemingly endless slurry of bad news and dizzying discourse that saturates our social media feeds. Camus teaches us that we can’t ignore the state of the world, or downplay society’s issues – instead, we need to acknowledge reality for what it is, and choose rebellion.

So, how do you actually choose rebellion or become as absolutely free as Camus wants you to be? Well, I think you do so by embracing empathy, and love. I know, it’s very clichéd, but maybe it’s a cliché because it’s right! Not everyone shares the same level of freedom, and a lack of freedom often stems from societal apathy, bigotry, and greed – all of which are the antithesis of empathy. By choosing to be an empathetic, caring person in a world that profits off bigotry and sustained apathy, your very existence becomes an act of rebellion. Our world has never been this liberated and accepting of diverse identities before! The struggles of the LGBTQIA+ community, people of colour, and differently abled people have never before been acknowledged at the levels they are today. It feels like people are starting to take notice and speak up against these inequities – and that should be celebrated! But we can’t ignore the fact that the freedom these communities have earned – the freedom they are currently fighting for – is still under threat.

At this point in the blog, you’re probably wondering how I’m so young yet so wise. The truth is, I got really lucky in the parent department. Both of my parents embody the values of love, empathy and freedom perfectly. My father’s charity, Waja Ka Meno, provides free oral and optometric care to differently abled children and adults in South Africa, and my mother… where do I even start? There does not exist a more caring lady than my mother! I know you probably think your mother is better or more caring, but you’re wrong, and that’s okay. Growing up, my parents stressed the importance of actively practicing empathy, encouraging me to get involved in food drives and volunteer work – and I will always be grateful for that. Because of them, I’m not just a good-looking, straight, cis man… because of them, I’m a good-looking, charitable, straight, cis man!

It’s scary how persistent hate is. It’s scary how easily our culture can regress. We can’t ignore the reality of the situation, but we can fight to change it. It’s our responsibility to fight to change it – a responsibility born out of our shared humanity. It’s what Camus would have wanted… at least I think it is; I don’t know, I’ve not read his books. I just watched a YouTube video about him.

Posted on by johanne_marais

Allow yourself the freedom to grieve

“… In the end, maybe absence is just an invitation for something greater: a chance to leave the dead alone, to put new flowers in a vase. All this lack just leaves an opportunity to atone, to adore.” – @hammuraber

Life is a series of moments between birth and death. Across all cultures, the beauty of how life begins and ends is acknowledged differently. Death could be celebrated as a rebirth, or a divine returning. The constant is that life – at least as we experience it – begins and ends.

Life is also an amalgamation of cycles: cellular division from one cell to two to four and eight; infancy, adolescence, adulthood, and senescence. The great golden glow of sunlight, the 28-day moon dance, and the celebration of a year every 365.25 days all reiterates the cyclical nature of what it means to be alive.

To be in symbiosis is to be in association with another. In this breath, symbiosis is a constant reconstitution of matter: organisms borrowing molecules from each other; fungi doing the ever-important work of decomposing organic materials; new life sprouting from the substrate of what once was…  What an honour it is to be in association with the world around us – to be born and know that our fate is to return to the ground that facilitates our liveliness. I welcome the reality that this may be the ultimate freedom: not that death is a part of life, but rather life is a part of death.

Please do not think that I reduce the heartache and weight of loss to be light, or bearable, or even tolerable. Loss can feel cruel. You spend your time building a sandcastle made of memories, laying the most meaningful ones as bricks in towers where they are surely safe. Without warning or consideration, grief – with the impact of a tumultuous tide – disintegrates every instant of joy you have ever known. I imagine grief is where life and loss are in symbiosis.

Grief is embedded within the death of a loved one, but also in the change of seasons or feeling the end of a long-term friendship. I have lost stored data and grieved nostalgia’s absence in flipping through photographs. You may need to grieve the job you dreamed of but weren’t offered. Even as we adopt new behaviours, we may grieve for ourselves no longer being the last to leave a party. Mourning is akin to a mirror of celebration.

The neuroscience of grieving supports that grievance may be considered a type of learning. As you acknowledge how much adaptation is required in accepting one’s new reality, it makes sense that this is learning how to find peace in mourning. The attachment pattern needs to be reworked as the brain reconstitutes a new symbiosis with the subject and context of bereavement.  This adaption engages networks of the brain involved in self-soothing, emotional processing, remembering, and imagining the future.

Psychology derives that there are seven stages of grief. Though these criteria have value, I maintain that to stage grief implies that the experiences are not personalized, cyclic and profoundly overwhelming. Grieving is non-linear. It unravels without time, without a clear beginning or end. It washes over the griever in waves.

It is common practice to relish milestones like birthdays or victories. We may even celebrate freedom of movement, expression, choice… On paper, the South African constitution outlines these freedoms as human rights. Why then, do we often shy away from grieving transparently; rather, convinced that we must be our own lifejacket as we struggle to stay afloat?

I offer myself this: “Allow yourself the freedom to grieve.”

Create freedom for yourself around the why and how and when. Let the pragmatic thinker be soothed as you exercise your birth right to feel. Engage on the ritual of remembrance that comes with grieving, for active participation in honouring what you have lost yields the immortalization of love and memory. It births a capacity to recreate.

In grief’s ebb and flow, we are not free from temporary suffering. We are not free of emptiness. Rather, the freedom comes from feeling our grief completely – without time, without a clear beginning or end.