Perception is Reality

“What is this life, if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?” So begins a poem by William Henry Davies, extolling us to take time out from our busy lives, slow down, stay in the moment, immerse ourselves in all the beauty this world has to offer. I’ve always loved those lines, used them frequently in defense of my laziness, both to myself and to the disapproving parental unit. Life was busy but happy and carefree.

I find myself sitting here now on a lonely Sunday afternoon repeating those lines with a small, yet monumental difference. “What is this life, if full of care, I have nothing but time to stand and stare?”

Time hangs heavy nowadays, the silence is deafening. There are certainly many tasks clamouring for attention, plenty of activities to cram into the unforgiving minute, distractions galore in this age of continuous streaming content. I fill the space with an almost constant something nowadays – music, inane shows, serious documentaries, audiobooks. Something, anything. Yet through it all, the silence is deafening. The beauty of this world continues. I still spend time sitting on the patio watching birds take an actual bath in the bird bath outside, with all the fascination I’ve always had, but with none of the joy that sight used to bring.

It’s a strange emotion, joy. It holds excitement and happiness, certainly, but also some indescribable quality of inner, deeper fulfilment. Kedar’s death has created an unfillable void, a deep hollow where once there was wholeness. Or perhaps, where once there was Kedar, without my ever realizing it.

Nature abhors a vacuum. By that principle this void will be filled, but with what is the question.  

I’ve found that activities don’t fill that void, nor does spending time with people. It just continues to exist and makes its presence felt, rather like a wet dog in a small car with the windows up and the air conditioning broken. You may go about your busy day as happy as can be – acing it at work, running errands, laughing over a funny show, even yakking away with friends at dinner – but that aroma of wet dog lingers, pervades your every pore, an undercurrent of odor quietly whispering “there isn’t enough sandalwood in the world to make me go away”.  

In a bid to seek answers, I joined an online group of young widows/widowers. Yes, in this world of widowhood I am considered young, a mere fledgling in fact. I didn’t find answers, perhaps because none exist, but did find something far more valuable – solidarity. A group of people from all over the world, different religions, different cultures, different classes of society, varied life experiences, different grief journeys too; yet with very similar emotions, similar reactions, similar voids. At an emotional level, human experience transcends differences. Artificially created human constructs such as race, gender, nationality, socio-economic class, education – all fall away in the commonality of grief.

While the emotions might be seemingly identical and identifiable, the responses are certainly not. They are as varied as there are people. Some people are drowning in their sorrow, some carrying on with gritted teeth. A small minority of people have found ways to build lives of joy, peace, and purpose again.  

How did they do it? Did the void disappear over time? Perhaps the void is still a powerful presence, but they have found a way to build happy lives around it.

The faint glimmers of an answer came to me from the person whose absence caused this void. I read the many messages and outpouring of love from his friends and colleagues. Kedar came to life again, the person he was at his core, the spirit with which he lived his life, his resilience and good humor, and his spirited playing of the game of life.

Words like “eternal optimist”, “gentle calmness”, “empathy”, “curiosity and zest for life”, “infectious laughter and humour”, “thoughtfulness”, “humility” “human-centric leader” were expressed by the many people who wrote about him.

Maybe Nature won’t rush to fill this void, nature works at the physical level. Maybe there is in fact no void. Kedar’s presence, his energy, his memories, his life are all still here, occupying the void. If ever I feel myself falling into the abyss, maybe reading what people wrote about him will resurrect him, if only in my mind.

Perception is reality. A concept agonized over by philosophers over the centuries.  The same picture shows an old woman or a young woman depending on how one perceives it. The same void can be either empty or full depending on how one understands it.

Perception is reality. “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven” says Milton in Paradise Lost. I know what Kedar would do and what I must now strive for.