Literatură | Proză

Ana Molv – Pneuma

Echinox25 august 2024

I grew up hearing that we are always watched by God. I remember reading this one story that left me thinking. It was about a boy and his farmer father, doing a service for their neighbor, gathering corn. After they finished the task, the father started to hide some corn at the bottom of the horse-drawn-cart, stealing it. The boy, shocked by the actions of his father, asked:

“Did you make sure that nobody sees you?”

“Of course,” the father replied, quickly looking around again.

“Every direction?” the son asked.

“Yes. Left, right, front and back.”

“But did you look up?”

The father looked up and understood, God was watching. He thanked his son and put the corn back in the mesh bags.

In that moment I understood that I was fucked; I was being watched and later judged, with the possibility of winning a one-way ticket to hell. I started asking myself different questions, but the one that stuck with me was: “Should I not do ‘bad things’ only because I’m afraid of punishment?” Then, the religion’s rules do not always match the ones of the state, which ones are more important? What should I fear more? The immediate physical punishment? Or the spiritual, eternal one?

And then, I became an agnostic, and all those evaporated, in a way. You know how Christians always say that those who don’t believe in God are more obsessed with him than those who believe? Well, I truly am obsessed with God. I’m obsessed with the concept of it, with the impact it had on my life and on the life of others. I am shocked by the fact that I believed he existed. I’m scared by the fact that so many people believe he exists, is omnipotent and omnipresent, and still does absolutely nothing. I’m haunted and afraid by the mass delusion.

Back to my child days, I also heard that the dead, who are in the sky, can see us; so, add a few other watchers. Apparently, in heaven, there are TVs with channels for every person you left on Earth. How can anyone be happy when they hear about this? That’s the worst thing ever. You never know when your grandfather would decide to watch your channel.

And then, I become an agnostic, and I stopped believing in afterlife. Believing there’s something after we die is just another lie we tell ourselves. The fear of the unknown, the fear of dying, and dying being the end, the fear of never-ending darkness. Your flesh, your brain, your ideas and your words, rotting in a wooden coffin, at the bottom of a hole, surrounded by damp ground and roots. Imagine worms digging deep into your flesh, as ants nibble your fingertips; and rats scratch the outside of the coffin, trying to get in, making so much noise. And then think the same about the ones you love. It is, somehow, unsettling, I admit. But lying to yourself is even more frightening for me.

And then, I realized, even if God no longer exists for me, I’m still being watched. My future self, always watching me. She understands this moment better than present me. She’s now somewhere, who knows where? Maybe she’s in the car, in the shower, or just reading, when the memory of this moment hits her. She remembers it vaguely, and she asks herself, “Why did I remember it now?”. And then, slowly, she remembers the dreams and ideas I have, and laughs. She remembers me writing this piece, searches it through her laptop and smiles as she reads it, she hates it.

Who is judging harder, God, or my future self? Was it actually good that I lost a watcher, just to realize I had another? I believed in a false watcher, who was going to punish me in the fiery pits, when I had a watcher that’s been glued to myself since I’ve been born. Self-awareness can sometimes feel like a trap. One that you set for yourself, waiting to finally step in it. You hide it in plain sight, right next to your bed, or in front of the sink, and you unconsciously watch yourself, daily, walking right past it, always avoiding it in the last second. But it’s there, and you know it. It’s just a matter of time.

I’m never actually alone; but I will die alone. The thing that fills the loneliness in my mind now is my future self. I know she’s there, watching me, having opinions on everything I do; and her opinions mean more to me than mine. But, on my death bed, she will not be there anymore. She will be dead, for who knows how long? I will be the only one living in my mind, for maybe a few years, months, or days; because I’m not yet sure about the time gap between selves. After enough time passes, and I catch up with her, we will become one. But that will happen only after I die.

*

The cool air around us, and the warmth inside, uniting to create our imagined soul. I don’t believe in the existence of souls either; or at least not in the traditional concept. For me, you can’t sell it, it’s not good or bad, and it’s definitely not going to hell or heaven. I’ve heard that the soul is the real you, the ‘power’ to love yourself and others, the heart and the mind together. Which doesn’t make any sense to me, because all of those are done by the mind. Different parts of the brain, for different mental and physical activities. The heart and soul have nothing to do with feelings, and we should stop blaming them for our bad decisions.

The whole heart and soul problem is because we want to detach from our bodies. The body is just flesh, bone and blood, nothing eternal, nothing spiritual about it, and we apparently hate that. It’s scary to think that you could go to sleep tonight and never wake up again; to think that a car could hit you the next time you pass the street, killing you; to think that you could fall down the stairs one morning, as you’re going to the kitchen to make some coffee. The body is so fragile, like a pink peony, so full of petals, and such a vivid color, and all it takes for it to die is to squeeze it in your fist. You cut it, detaching it from its roots, you forget to put it in water, you sniff it aggressively and throw it back on the nightstand. Or, you get a white peony and put it in colored water, hoping that its petals would suck the dye, making them the color you want. You kill it by tricking it; you put it somewhere secluded, where it depends on you and the water you’re putting in the vase. You put it somewhere it has sun, and you’re so proud of you for doing the necessary thing. You brought it in that situation and then praise yourself for doing what you’re supposed to. If the vases in your house are full of natural flowers, you do love flowers, you love your house. If you love them, you have a garden for them, or at least some pots. But they are so fragile, and need protection, right? Just as our bodies. But, maybe unfortunately, I think that the fragility of the body, and the uncertainty of life makes so that any moment is fitted for what you want to do.

*

Ignorance is bliss, blind, and bitter. It’s knowing that some things are wrong, but you still close your eyes. It’s those cognitive biases you feed daily, not even trying to look for other options. It’s when someone explains something to you, and you say “I don’t care”. Ignorance is when you hide from anything that doesn’t directly concern you. But, it’s also when you don’t pay attention to yourself. You put your feelings and beliefs in the hands of others, and wait for them to tell you what to do. You don’t want to go out, talk, or do anything that takes you out of your comfort zone. You’re scared to stop making a cross with your hand on the pillow before you go to sleep, or think of sex in any other way than a duty. That one thing that bothers you, hollowing your brain like a drill at full power, only getting deeper. And you want to disappear, if only for a second, to be invisible.

Invisibility is something that most of us wanted at some point, for many different reasons. But I think that says more about us that we would like to admit. We hide behind this without admitting to the facts. Invisibility has something evil about it. You can get away with anything, and you can even blame it on others. You can, as Gyges did, be the most unjust person, and be seen as the most just one, collecting the fruits from both these trees. You can easily run away from the help you so desperately need, but are afraid to ask for. Hide, and never seek. Is it the presence, or the absence of a soul the thing that makes us be like this?

Oh God, how I would like to just fall on my knees, say a prayer, and watch it work. But that won’t happen, and I’ve known it for a while now. We’ve been told this ‘noble’ lie since before we were born; then, we stayed silent, in our cradles, waiting to be picked up. We ate what we were fed, just like the white peony, and we got so used to it that it felt useless to change anything. But, one day, you see, or read something, that makes you realize that you have to rethink everything you were so, stupidly, certain about. And there’s bliss no more. Then, you start to seek it, and you might find it, but until then, ‘Do not believe, doubt’.