Nothing Out of Ordinary

“Well…that’s the last thing you need know about Puritanism. Do any of you have a question?” The classroom fell into silence. Some of us looked at each other, and they didn’t find any sort of way to make a nonsense question. “No one? Really? Fine then, I will see you next week. Have a good day”, he packed his bags with his collection of books about history and stuff that he taught in his classes. The familiar silence was finally broken, by the squeaks and rustles of shifted chairs, moved books and closed utensils. The classroom was empty as it should be. All the merriness transferred to the hallway, filled with the sound of galloping legs and chattering of people’s mouths. It was a hard thing to find a way through it all, yet it was worth the effort. Clouded sky complemented my footsteps, as I was walking down the street with the smoke and sound of ongoing traffic. Something was stuck inside my soul, yet it was not a grudge or anger, it was a slight hint of curiosity—A question that I should’ve asked. I opened the door of my house with my numbed hand, with hurried steps dragging my feet to the bedroom. After throwing my bag over the bed, I sat on my frozen chair while my mind was focused on one thing, imagining a world controlled under the so-called ‘law’ of Puritanism, using my professor’s description as a component to the hallucination of mine. “It was an idea that forces its people to life by an absolute control from the bible. Anything that was considered as a sinful act, or that despised the rule of the Bible, would be diminished. Tradition, liturgy, and even any form of entertainment like literature, drama, those were considered as source of sins, and of course banned and forbidden in the community,” he said. Like hunger that controls us to look for a food, has such idea become a part of the people at that certain period of our time? Like fear that could be manipulated for an advantage towards certain party, did such ‘absolute’ idea—under the shelter of the Bible—possess one-sided objectives as well? 

As an individual, it would be a common courtesy to have such idea, isn’t it? Ignoring the fact that there are people around us, with their own needs, emotions, perspectives, ideas…the list goes on. Putting one objective to our priorities, that is to do thing that has the most benefits for our own. Or is it? Nonetheless, the sense of urgency and force being done in actualizing such controversial idea, are those gesture really necessary? By doing careless and thoughtless act of forbidding and preventing people to do an activity that they like, isn’t that a violation on the rights of their own people? Those questions linger in my head, screaming for answers, that I did not dare to promise them for their own sake. I lack skills in giving answers, especially for questions like them, and yet creating such inquiries has become a second nature for me. Like hundreds pounds of force being pushed from inside my own head, they were trying to force me to find a way out from seems to be an endless road of repeating conflicts. It was not only an act of being a pessimist, but my words were based on a realistic approach towards the condition that exists in today’s society. Doing things for the sake of the others? Call me a judgmental idiot but I believe that most of them are well-hidden lies. Even though, I am not putting aside my attention towards those genuinely charitable and sensitive people, we need more of those kinds of people. Like mating rabbits, those kinds of people keep emerging day after day after day. Perhaps to a point where prisons and death sentences are not a viable option any longer. Spreading its network like a spider-web, catching helpless prey—innocent people, the poor, and many others—to their own benefits. Under the name of God, of holy books, that doesn’t really matter for me, in a sense that people have rights in terms of choosing their religion and beliefs, putting efforts in actuating what their religion have told them to do. Yet, what concerns me is the way or the methods that they have chosen in terms of spreading and implementing their religious beliefs. The word ‘Puritan’ echoed back inside my head. They were bluntly locating themselves as the center of all the religion, in a sense that the others were obliged to follow the domination of one religion only. A violation--that’s how I will call it—towards a simple logical statement, we are not the same. The realm of humanity is too diverse to be controlled under the veil of one rigid ‘regulations’, one that does not have any sensitivity or even logical mindset towards the reality. The differences in needs, level of emotional values, intelligence, perspectives and so on, are too complex. This condition is undeniable, because If we are all the same, what is the point of living anyway? Aches within my skull were getting stronger, yet I was not sure that any medicine would do any help. I drew a pen, I ripped a sheet of paper, and I started to paint some words, saying;

Under the cover of veil, woven by fabrics from phrases in a holy book

Making people to be its puppets, with strings of absolute yet compulsory rules

Though its intent far more than a blurry picture, with hidden signatures drawn within

Putting its painter to grasp the advantage, while others struggled with an endless agony  

A disappointment, such painting subsist until the present, managed through the test of time

Violating rights that we all possess, yet not a single soul concede it as an act of crime

As a single sweat fell down through my cheek, I took a deep breath. I have drawn my white flag as a result of my own weakness, at least for today. Retreating to the bed, I was hoping that my dream will be left unharmed.  My mind finally had the time to rest.

The alarm started to chime, and my eyes were slowly opened. It has been a week, yet I did not remember what have happened in those following days, all six of them. I had my breakfast, something was similar—it was not the food, it was something else. I put on my shoes, carelessly walked through the front door, “another day at the campus, I guess…” I found my way to the same classroom, with a matching silence. Yet, it was broken when a simple sentence was spoken, “Hey, have you studied for today’s lesson?” Her name was Veronica, a friend of mine. “Are we supposed to study for today’s lesson? Will there be a quiz or something?” I asked. She shook her head as she put her bag in a chair next to mine, “Just in case. Our professor is well known for his pop quiz, you do know that, don’t you?” It was not his pop quiz that terrified me the most, but the idea that he taught us about. I guess it was just me who felt that way. I never dared to ask such thing to my friends, without any explainable reasons. One by one, the seats were seated. The silence within the room was gone, substituted by random chatters of my friends. Yet, the silence that I possessed did not change at all. I could hear my own thoughts about the Puritans wandering inside my head. It has been a week.  “Good morning everyone, do any of you have a question for the materials that I’ve taught you last week?” The stillness was restored. There was an urge to raise my hand and finally ask the question that I have been holding in, yet that was only an idea. I kept the question to myself. “Let’s move on to the realm of the romantic. If you think that it has something to do with romance as in love story and such, you are wrong. One of its manifestations is the idea that emotion and feeling are more important than logic itself.  The things that we can see, hear, smell, feel are the main concern of this concept.” An hour has passed, yet those sentences were the only thing that I could remember. I dragged my feet heavily along the sidewalk, even though the burden was wandering inside my head. Familiar atmosphere was shrouding my room, as I found myself sitting on the same chair. I have never thought that logic was not the only thing that we can use as the source of our ideas. Or have I? Even though, we could say that if we do use our emotions and feelings on something, its validity would be questionable. Yet, if we did not use our senses to truly experience a certain condition to ourselves, the opinions and arguments which we would present will become nonsense in a sense that there was no evidence for our judgment. As an example, I would not be telling you all of these if I did not experience it on my own. I am not a person that tries to move on from the past. I am a person who uses the past—the history and all the things that I have experienced –as references for living in the present, or the ‘future’. People call me ‘nostalgic’, or ‘melancholic’, and perhaps ‘pathetic’ as well. It does not matter, I could not, I cannot and I will not change. Nonetheless, we cannot ignore logic that easily. It is one of the ways for us in acquiring or even developing our ideas. What matters now is which one will you choose? You could try to combine those two, and if so, welcome to the club. One way of thinking is never enough for a person like me. My lungs were breathing heavily, yet this was nothing compared to the thing that happened a week ago, nothing. Or is it? Again, I pulled out a pen from the drawer and took a sheet a paper from a notebook. My hands danced in union with the pen, carving black ink into the innocent white paper. Those carvings said;

Being a romantic, does not have anything to do with values in romance

A mindset that enhances our practice in utilizing both of our emotion and sense

When the others put an emphasize on logic, trying their best to be rational

It highlights personal experience, memories, whether was it ordinary or exceptional

Never had the chance to discover, such idea that I possess since the beginning

Some could accept, some could not; It is my own way of living

I looked at etching sincerely, like it was an art-piece of an artist. I searched through the pile of paper and books, to find another piece of the stroke of an idiot. I put them side by side. Despite they were made by one person, they did not look the same at all. One filled with loathing and desolation, and the other was stuffed with grief and solitude. Should I keep them or should I just rip them apart?—the hardest decision that I have to make. All the suspense has faded away from my mind, at least for a while.  I put those pieces of arts lying solemnly on the table. I hope someone will read them one day, when I am ready with all of its consequences—the critics, the shame, the pride, and so on. Resting my head on a pillow, something was holding me back from my slumber.  Was this the end? Would it come back to me? An endless mystery that I have to face, that I had faced since the time I was able to use my mind properly. I closed my eyes with agony, forcing it to end, for now.