Part II: My Amoeba and Me, or Buck Up Because I Still Have All My Limbs

Part II: Buck Up Because I Still Have All My Limbs

A few days ago, on Sunday I think, I was wandering though the back streets of McLeod Ganj, exploring a nice terraced hillside and looking for a short cut from one of the main roads to another hillside just slightly outside McLeod Ganj where I like to hang prayer flags. The terraced hill boasts a sign for something called Yogi Cottages. Yogi Cottages, whatever it is, and the presence of a few small Hindu shrines (stupas/chaityas?), have thus far protected this lovely green space from being smothered by yet more monstrosities of concrete; a bulwark against the further transformation of McLeod Ganj into a suffocating warren of soot-coated postmodern-Indian architecture, little more than a backpackers' ghetto of guesthouses and shops. After confusedly navigating the periphery of McLeod's development and basically walking through a few peoples' houses, I finally caught sight of the other hillside. As I made my way towards it something caught my eye. I suppose what I saw isn't all that exceptional, but in the context, as I wallowed in self-pity at my (relative) misfortune, it was so perfect it might as well have been the work of providence (or the Buddha!): a three-legged doggy hobbling after his master.

[Be warned, I digress a bit here] The disfigured, the maimed, lepers...all are common sights in India and Nepal, I feel a bit callous saying so but they have only succeeded in guilting me in the moment, never moving me on a metaphysical level in a positive way. So often, these beggars shove their disfigurement in your face, play it up, showcase it in a way that deliberately disturbs. Their methods are cold, calculated, and they work; you see their suffering, you feel like shit, and you give them some rupees. You feel guilty and then you give to assuage your guilt, but in the end it is (often, but not in all cases) the beggar who is using you, shoving a mangled limb in front of you and expecting an almost robotic response to it. What has happened to these beggars is truly unfortunate, and they deserve compassion, but being compassionate does not necessarily equate to perpetuating this game of giving in which nobody gets to have any dignity. [Digression over]

Though this doggy had only three legs, it was not a pitiful sight, there was a beautiful dignity to him. He was beaming, making the best of a unfortunate situation and smiling as he struggled to hobble after his owner. In his eyes, there was no self-doubt, no fear, no notion of inferiority, no sense that life had dealt him a shitty hand and that he deserved pity because of it. This put my own struggle well into perspective. This doggy had totally gone beyond the unbelievable hardship he had been dealt, refusing to let his disability define him and experiencing great happiness in spite of it. So much strength, so much confidence. Like being slapped in the face and told to "wake up!" it dawned on me that my suffering was so much more a mental construction than anything else. What little physical suffering I did have was laughable compared to what the three-legged doggy had to deal with everyday, to what millions upon millions of beings have to deal with everyday. I had an amoeba, so what! It was diagnosed early, I had medicine for it, it would be gone in a number of days, why was I still letting it reign over me. It was so transient, so empty, the real cause of my suffering was my obsession with the notion 'I am sick' and the weight I gave to that silly notion. Only on the first two days did my amoeba ever actually stop me from doing things (thank you amoebic dysentery); the cause of my paralysis after that came from my brain, not my bowels. The most important means to overcome anything is not physical ability, it is will. The will to act, to persevere, to overcome. Our brains are so complex that we constantly second guess ourselves, doubt ourselves, resign to fatalism, give up before even trying. Thanks to our big complex brains, some of us can do calculus, create mathematical theories that explain the very origins of the universe, discover new species, prove Einstein wrong, and write symphonies. And thanks to our big complex brains some of us cannot bear living another day, sharing success with those less fortunate, coexisting with those who are different, or even loving their own children. Because of our big complex brains, it is a lot harder for us to have the same purity of will as the three-legged doggy, but it is not impossible. Ultimately, it does not matter whether we run, walk, or hobble through this precious human life of ours, just that we keep going.

The Frequency is Courage,
-Doug B.