Graduality

From space, the view of the planet earth is spectacular. A mesmerizingly beautiful glob of blue light glowing ethereally in the middle of space’s vast darkness. A luminescent blue jewel mysteriously floating on a frightening dark sea. But the best view perhaps is that from directly above the North Pole. From there the earth seems to be divided distinctly between two hemispheres—the illuminated half and the dark half, the one seeing the light of day and the one hidden in the dark of night. And if I were out there, floating somewhere way above the earth, looking down at those two distinct hemispheres, I’d wonder how it would be like to stand along the line that clearly divides the earth’s dark and bright sides. If from space, the earth seems to be clearly divided between the bright and the dark halves, shouldn’t it follow that from down there on earth, someone would see the sky clearly divided between black and blue?

The pictures taken from space can not lie. There must be a line that clearly separates the dark and bright sides of the earth. And once each day, we pass through that line. Because once each day, as the earth rotates, the day turns into night. But has anyone ever seen the sky clearly divided between black and blue? Even if we don’t wait for the earth’s rotation to take us to that line, even if we can run across the world from east to west just to be able to cross that line, would we ever find ourselves staring at a sky clearly divided between black and blue? Never. The day never suddenly shifts into night. The day can only fade into night. And if we run across the world in less than a day, even if the earth were not rotating, we would not see our surroundings suddenly turning from bright to dark. We would only observe our environment gradually losing its brightness, the land basking in sunlight before slowly crawling beneath the pall of twilight and then finally hiding in the dark cloak of nighttime. And when we find ourselves in the dark, we’ll know that we have crossed that line, the one which, from space, seems to clearly divide the earth between black and blue. But if we ask ourselves how far we are from that line, can we give ourselves an answer? If we try to recall the exact moment that everything around us was already dark, can we succeed?

Can you believe it? 365 times each year, the day turns into night. But how many times have we actually stood out there in the open at sunset, staring at the darkening sky, saying to ourselves with absolute certainty, “At this very moment, the day has completely turned into night.”? Apparently, nature has a playful side. It lets the most amazing natural phenomena unfold before our very eyes but at the same time conceals them from us.

It’s like what nature does to love. One day we just realize that we are in love. But by the time that realization comes, we have already been in love for quite some time. And when we ask ourselves how long we had actually been in love, we can not come up with the accurate answer. Love happens. We cross the line between friendship and love, that between admiration and love, that between lust and love, or that between infatuation and true love. But how many times have we found ourselves honestly and correctly saying, “At this exact moment, I have crossed the line between love and something else.”?

It’s like what nature does to memories. Life gives us a beautiful experience, we remember it, relish its memory for countless days, and then eventually, there’ll be nothing for us to reminisce. Because that beautiful memory has already faded into oblivion. But how many times in our lives do we find ourselves honestly saying,”Today, this beautiful memory has been erased from my mind.”?

Which is the same thing that happens to emotional pain. We feel it, suffer because of it, and then one day, we realize that the pain is gone. But by the time that realization comes, the pain has already been gone for quite some time. And though we repeatedly bear pain in our lives, how many times do we find ourselves honestly and accurately saying, “At this exact moment, the emotional pain has suddenly vanished.”?

It’s like what happens to happiness. For years, we struggle in our pursuit of happiness. And then one day, we realize that we are already happy. But by the time that realization comes, we have already been happy for quite some time. And though happiness has come to countless people, how many of us have accurately and honestly said to ourselves, “At this exact moment, I have attained happiness.”?

Now, I know what’s so damn wrong with my life. All this time, I’ve been expecting happiness to suddenly come into my life, like a thunderbolt fleetingly illuminating the dark night, when in fact, it can only come gradually, like the sunrise slowly brightening up the morning landscape. One day, perhaps, I’ll just realize that I’m happy, even though when that realization comes, I will have already been blissful for quite some time.

The same thing applies to progress. Growing up in a third world country, I have often heard my countrymen say that there is no hope for this impoverished land of ours. Because there hasn’t been any drastic change in the country for the past fifty years. But then, why do we expect progress to come through sudden, drastic changes? When the progress of human civilizations are discussed, we often focus on major political milestones—revolutions, conquests, legislation, treaties. Meanwhile, often overlooked are the long and silent miracles accomplished by the humble merchants who made commerce possible, the lowly peddlers who made it possible for humans to succeed without unleashing terror and violence, the same people who have quietly and gradually made it possible for millions of people to triumph in peace. Come to think of it, if those lowly merchants had not been so patient and persistent I selling their wares, there would be no such thing as an economy, and success would only come to those heartless enough to become ruthless kings and conquerors.

Someday, I’ll find happiness and success. But for now, I have to be patient. Because I know that such things can only come gradually. Someday, a country as impoverished as mine can attain prosperity. But for now, its people have to be patient because progress can only come with graduality. One day, I’ll just find myself happy, successful and living in a prosperous country. But when that realization comes, I will already have been happy, successful and living in a prosperous country for quite some time.

I wonder what other silent miracles are unfolding gradually before my eyes. I wonder how many lines I’m crossing each day. I wonder when the next startling realization of having crossed an invisible line would hit me.