I Am 7.5 Billion Human

By Sajith Buvi

Look not at my eyes, for they are black, blue, green, or brown.
Look not at my face, for it may attract or repel.
Look not at my body, for it is just an agglomeration of molecules.
Look not at my skin, for it can be white, black, brown, or any number of minute pigments.
Look not at my clothes, for they are only dyes and designs.
Look not at my home, for it can be high or low.
Look not at my job, for it is a sign of my helplessness or my greed.
Look not at my age, for it is beyond me.
Look not at my personality, for it is part my father, part my mother, and the rest no one knows.
Look not at me as God’s child, for my God and yours may never see eye to eye.
Look not at me as an animal, for we cherry pick our pets: A brutalized dog turns our hearts into pain factories while the little calves, piglets, and chicks that end up on our dinner plates easily make us salivate.
Look not at me as a product of nature, for we all have our own definitions of nature.
Look not at me as your friend, for a friend

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sajith Buvi
• Release date: Nov 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781944244002

Book preview

I Am 7.5 Billion Human

I AM 7.5 BILLION HUMAN

Sajith Buvi

COPYRIGHT

© 2015 Sajith Buvi All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-1-943275-83-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book in any manner may be reproduced, translated, copied, stored or transmitted in any form—electronic or otherwise—or any means without prior permission from the author.

First Edition 2015

AUTHOR's ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am grateful to Laura P of Editor World for editing the manuscript of this book. She has put her heartfelt effort to make this book better.

PREFACE

Humans have the luxury of not feeling the hearts of other humans. Even in close relationships like husband and wife or father and son or mother and daughter the deep feelings of a heart never enter the heart of another. Despite living together for years couples rarely know each other’s heart. Many mothers or fathers have no grasp of the deeper feelings of their own son or daughter. Because of this inability we take life of other people for granted. We rarely experience the actual pain and suffering fellow humans go through in the deeper existence of their being.

There is so much suffering out there. Human hearts are aching. There is so much mental pain on this planet. Millions suffer from depression; millions commit suicide; millions regularly visit psychologists. Some of them take the extreme step of wreaking havoc in the society. Many of us read these facts as just another headline and get back to our routine. In our own lives we face similar situations. When our heart aches and looks for solace we wonder why no one understands us.

Almost all humans who suffer deep mental pain usually utter the same complaint. When close family members try to console them they will say something like, you don’t love me or you don’t understand me. They are not lying. They are simply articulating the facts that they feel in their very bones.

If humans could feel each and every human heart, then our lives on this planet would be a heaven. We would all live for each other. Our love for each other would transcend skin color, religion, gender, nationality, and all identities that we created for ourselves. Every human would turn into a caring, compassionate being. We would share all our belongings. The sense of universal belonging would take over us. No one would be made to feel alone or rejected.

Imagine one day you wake up and find out that you can feel the hearts of all 7.5 billion human beings. Each of those 7.5 billion human hearts is felt in your heart. You become 7.5 billion times the human you were. You will be a 7.5 billion human. This book gives you an opening to the hearts of 7.5 billion human.

CHAPTER 1:  THE PRESENT

1.1  Swap Your Heart for Mine

Yes, those nice words help. Yes, those hugs do help. But how can those nice words and hugs keep me from feeling what I feel? When the burden of pain lurks in my heart and weighs me down within the depths of me, where should I turn to get rid of that burden?

I do not seek pacification. I do not seek comforting words intersected with your vocal cord-manufactured sounds of compassion. I seek total detachment from my pain. I seek unplugging the experience of pain from my heart. I cry to disentangle that pain from my depths. Do you hear my cry? You don’t get it. How can you? The pain is in me. The pain lives inside me. Right here, inside me. Do you get it? Literally, I can feel the weight of pain in my heart. It sits as heavy as a boulder, unmoving, unrelenting.

My suffering is an experience locked within my body. It is not some kind of a visitor. It stays there right in between my belly and throat. No amount of your contrived kindness or polished language helps in ebbing that persistent experience. No sunshine or bright new day can take that pain from my existence.

I am not looking to share my pain with you, at least not according to your idea of sharing. To share is not to smile and pat my arm. To share is not to preach your religion at me. To share is not to throw the contrived and clichéd, I am so sorry to hear that at me. No, you are not sorry. You never are. You never were. To share is to scoop the pain from my pain-filled heart and to fill it into your own heart. Do you even have the guts to at least offer me that comfort? I know that when the time comes to scoop, you will not turn up; your empathy exists only in the word. The feeling is the key. The experience is the key. Can you take my experience and make it your experience? Can we swap our hearts? Let me declare: To share pain is to swap hearts. You know you can’t do that. You know no surgeon can accomplish that. All I am asking is for you to have the compassion to even offer me that swap!

You always stay on that high pedestal of detachment from my pain and condescend to offer me your surface-level condolences. Your senses are numb. Your head is trapped in your own existence. Your life is all about you. I am an outsider, in every circumstance and in every interaction. I always am. You see me as a foreigner. You isolate yourself inside the showcase of your own body and look at me as the Other. I do not belong to you. I do not belong with you. That is the problem. I seek belonging. Belonging is not in what you say. Belonging is not