If You’re Not Confused You’re Not Paying Attention

Monday morning smoothie: Half a banana, two Tablespoons Greek yoghurt, half a cup of almond milk, and 5 strawberries. Put it all in a blender. Top off with coconut flakes and raspberries.

This week’s read: Elizabeth Winder’s curiously satisfying Pain, Parties, Work: Sylvia Plath in New York, Summer 1953. This book gives juicy details of the summer that ended in Plath’s breakdown, which was the basis of her best-selling novel The Bell Jar. Winder receives extra points for the prettiest cover of any of the books I’m currently reading.

For the longest time I believed in the stuff I was brought up on. Perhaps we all do. Authoritative people in our lives tell us things, and as children we can’t do much but to buy it. We don’t know how to question the information we receive. We have no experience with which to counterbalance it. I’m not talking about what they teach us in school (though that sometimes is bad enough) but stuff like family and relationships.

When I thought about the people in my life, I thought of them as though they were characters in a play: They all had parts that were clearly defined. I hadn’t given them these parts, others had, and I had just followed suit. I saw my mother in one way and my father in another, for instance, and they were frozen as such. The same with my grandparents and other relatives.

Then a few years ago, I met someone who challenged me to look at things a little differently. I began by reiterating the old story, the play and all the well-established characters in it, all of which had gotten cemented into my belief system, but this person – a woman – asked questions in such a way, that I began looking at things a little differently.

The result of this created a sort of a terror in me, when I realized just how much I had depended on certain “facts” or “truths” about people in my life, that indeed were neither. They were just views and opinions that I had inherited without question. I began to lie sleepless at night remembering events from my childhood and looking at them through this new kind of lens. I began seeing people in my life in a new light. In the end, it was all good: I gained appreciation for people who I had previously felt were at fault, and I forgave people who I realized might not always have had my best intentions as a child at heart.

We rarely think of confusion as something positive, but now I believe confusion can be an eye-opener, an awakening of sorts. An invitation to take a second look and reassess things and events.

Remember Ardeshir, the poet, and Ramona, the Count’s daughter? Here’s what happened next.

“I’m confused,” said Ramona.

“Good,” answered Ardeshir.

“Good?”
“If you’re not confused, you’re not paying attention.”

“What’s the lesson today?”
“Today there is no lesson. I thought we’d take a break.”
“A break?”

“I thought we’d take a walk instead.”

Ramona no longer had her entourage of slaves and guards with her. Nobody could see anymore that she was a duchess. She looked just like the rest of them. She walked next to Ardeshir, as if there were no longer any social restrictions between them, no barriers of any kind. As they walked through the bazaar, they stopped to look at the cages with birds, the sacks with beans and spices, the containers filled with dried fruit and tea leaves, the baskets of fish, and the remedies for this and that. They strolled passed the blacksmith, the rug dealers, the wool merchants and the potters; they stopped to smell the essences and perfumes. They enjoyed each other’s company.

“Doesn’t it get lonely at times?” Ramona asked.

“What does?”
“Living in that barrel?”

“I suppose it’s a question of preference,” Ardeshir said and nothing more was said until they came to a stand with copper items, where she accidentally brushed his thigh with the back of her hand. Although of course Ardeshir knew it was no ‘accident’ at all. There are no ‘accidents’ in life, Master Zitouna had once taught him.

“Ramona.”
“Ardeshir.”

They smiled at each other for the first time. It felt good being out and about together. Ardeshir paid for a pigeon in a cage to be set free, it was a lucky thing to do. He gave the pigeon to Ramona, and she held it high in her cupped hands and let it go. They watched in silence as it took flight.