Today I will begin a long weekly discussion that’s as labyrinthine as our intestine, maybe more, and that could stretch for a month, even more. This is one knowledge that’s long been robbed from us, for fear of its power, should we be able to fully grasp the power that this knowledge contains. And I do not mean to press that I am an expert on this; I’m not. The only reason I’m doing this is because I am attempting to be good at this – you don’t become a good swimmer just by merely watching others, or by reading a book entitled ‘Swimming 101’; you practice and struggle with what little you know, and in time, you’ll be an expert before you even know it.
Who am I? Most of us will immediately blurt out our full name, address, and age. Those are correct, but only on a superficial level.
But what really is the correct and precise answer to that very basic question that deserves our utmost attention? I admit I don’t know the answer to it myself. But what I’m going to do is to look at very important areas and linger at those spots that most of us have overlooked over the years of familiarity and haste.
First, permit me to use an automobile analogy.
My father has been an automotive mechanic for decades now, and over the years I have seen at least a speck of how hard that job is. Sometimes it takes my father weeks before he finds out what’s wrong with the car he’s fixing. He would have to revisit old manuals, as well as research on the newest manuals, depending on the car model. He would test-drive the car himself and listen and observe for anything queer in the car’s behavior. I became his apprentice for roughly a year, yet this blog entry testifies how poorly I apprenticed. But one of the few things I’ve learned from that is the knowledge of a creator, or in my father’s case, a repairer. And he has to be above the machine to be able to fix it.
Nonbelieving Scientists (because not all Scientists are Atheists) argue the absence of a divine being, as well as the purpose and the design of life. They have proofs and sound arguments, but there’s one thing that’s been getting on their nerves since its discovery: the DNA. I’m not in the mood to explain what it is, but in a nutshell, it defines who you are, at least physically. Now here’s the thing about us: if we separate our body into parts, we cannot bring them back again, without the DNA. Just like in a car, a thousand screws, gears, and tons of alloys cannot make a car without the manufacturer. The same holds true to us. Our body parts, skills, dreams, ideologies, experiences and emotions are not the summation of us; we are still much more than that. You cannot get a hand from a certain man, then just simply join it to another – ask those who have had successful heart transplants of what their greatest source of worry is. You cannot even steal another’s idea and then get away with it immaculately – ask Thomas Edison.
Now, through the years, we have taken the Creator out of the equation and then pretended that He’s not important. But one grave mistake we have committed is that by taking the Creator away, we have put someone else in His stead – we have learned to play God.
Advancements in Science has allowed us to tamper with the human DNA, thereby altering the given identity and future destiny of that person. Sometimes it’s for the good, but who knows for now if it’s still going to be the verdict after many years of breathing in a body that’s been “edited?”
Another, which is more subtle, is what Pop Culture says. Who among us knows the real definition of beauty? Who can tell us what is acceptable, and is not? What defines us? Clothing? Language? Our loved one’s opinion of us? Our failures?
Just a moment ago a friend of mine told me the story of an autistic child who isn’t able to speak at all. She has a family that loves and supports her even now, not to mention that due to their love and support, she has become a writer already. During her childhood, her parents gave their all to hire the most competent teachers just to give her the right education that her special case requires. They worked so hard, and they thought it was all for naught.
Now when the child reached her teenage years, the teachers gave her a computer, and told her how to use it. What happened afterwards shocked them. She wrote in complete sentences, and with perfect grammar which, for sure, is way better than mine! She told them through the screen of how hard her life has been; oftentimes she would bang her head against the wall because her headache is just too much.
Now why were the teachers, as well as the parents, shocked at all? The answer is quite simple: they had not expected her to be able to learn to construct grammatically-correct sentences, or learn how to spell H-E-L-L-O or whatnot. And her father cried so much because he remembered that when she was younger, they would talk about her condition openly, and express their doubts on her capacity to learn, not to mention her sanity.
She was intelligent, despite of what others thought. She was talented, regardless of what others said. She is intelligent, because she just simply is.