Mister God, This Is Anna


Anna was only four years old when Fynn found her on London’s fog-shrouded docks.
He took her back to his mother’s home, and from that first moment, their times together were filled with delight and discovery. Anna had an astonishing ability to ask– and to answer–life’s largest questions. Her total openness and honesty amazed all who knew her. She seemed to understand with uncanny certainty the purpose of being, the essence of feeling, the beauty of love. Anna had a very special friendship with Mister God…


“Tich,” I said, “what were you asking God about real questions for?”
“Oh, it’s just sad, that’s all.”
“What’s sad?”
“People is.”
“I see. What’s sad about people?”
“People ought to get more wise when they grow older. Bossy and Patch do, but people don’t.”
“Don’t you think so?” I asked.
“No. People’s boxes get littler and littler.”
“Boxes? I don’t understand that.”
“Questions are in boxes,” she explained, “and the answers they get only fit the size of the box.”
“That’s difficult; go on a bit.”
“It’s hard to say. It’s like–It’s like the answers are the same size as the box. It’s like them dimensions.”
“If you ask a question in two dimensions, then the answer is in two dimensions too. It’s like a box. You can’t get out.”
“I think I see what you mean.”
“The questions get to the edge and then stop. It’s like a prison.”
“I expect we’re all in some sort of prison.”
She shook her head. “No, Mister God wouldn’t do that.”
“I suppose not. What’s the answer then?”
“Let Mister God be. He lets us be.”
“Don’t we?”
“No, We put Mister God into little boxes.”
“Surely we don’t do that?”
“Yes, all the time. Because we don’t really love him. We got to let Mister God be free. That’s what love is.”
– Fynn
The story begins on the streets of the East End of London in the mid-1930s.Sydney Hopkins; the author (under the pseudonym “Fynn”) as a teenager and young adult, lived in the East End of London in the early 1930s. Some says it’s not truely autobiographical; some says Anna may be a fictional character and so on. Many places mentioned in the book have undergone redevelopment and they no longer exist.
In any case, the main reason for sharing excerpts of this 1974 publication, is it’s approach towards life’s biggest questions and unique way of finding their answers. It makes journey to find the truth as light, simple and fun filled as can be in our day to day life. This particular dialogue shows our limitation as a human race. We always see our fellow human beings on the basis of their class, colour, religion, language, ethnic origin and what not! Yes, we like to put them into boxes and our perception, understanding doesn’t go beyond it! That may be biggest reason for conflicts we see everywhere, if only we can see others as just like ourselves, a human being; without boxes!?!

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

My companion whenever I need some push, need the wind beneath my wings….

From http://www.aopa.org

Jonathan Livingston Seagull   a story

“…………one day Jonathan Livingston Seagull, you shall learn that irresponsibility does not pay. Life is the unknown and the unknowable, except that we are put into this world to eat, to stay alive as long as we possibly can.”
A seagull never speaks back to the Council Flock, but it was Jonathan’s voice raised. “Irresponsibility? My brothers!” he cried. “Who is more responsible than a gull who finds and follows a meaning, a higher purpose for life? For thousand years we have scrabbled after fish heads, but now we have a reason to live-to learn, to discover, to be free! Give me one chance, let me show you what I’ve found………”
The Flock might as well have been stone.
“The Brotherhood is broken,” the gulls intoned together, and with one accord they solemnly closed their ears and turned their backs upon him.

Jonathan Seagull spent the rest of his days alone, but he flew way out beyond the far Cliffs. His one sorrow was not solitude, it was that other gulls refused to believe the glory of flight that awaited them; they refused to open their eyes and see.

He learned more each day. He learned that a streamlined high-speed dive could bring him to find the rare and tasty fish that schooled ten feet below the surface of the ocean: he no longer needed fishing boats and stale bread for survival. He learned to sleep in the air, setting a course at night across the offshore wind, covering a hundred miles from sunset to sunrise. With the same inner control, he flew through heavy sea-fogs and climbed above them into dazzling clear skies. . . .in the very times when every other gull stood on the ground, knowing nothing but mist and rain. He learned to ride the high winds far inland, to dine there on delicate insects.

What he had once hoped for the Flock, he now gained for himself alone; he learned to fly, and was not sorry for the price that he had paid. Jonathan Seagull discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that a gull’s life is so short, and with these gone from his thought, he lived a long fine life indeed.
–Richard Bach
[ from Jonathan Livingston Seagull a Story]

Pic from quotesgram.com



Revisiting Hemingway…The Old Man and the Sea..

pain on glass by Michaela Muller

‘Fight  them , he said. I’ll fight them until  I  die.

But in the dark  now and no glow showing and no lights and only the wind and the steady pull of the sail  he felt that perhaps he was already dead. He put his two hands together and felt the  palms . They were not dead and he could bring the pain of  life  by simply opening and closing them. He leaned his back against the stern and knew he was not dead. His shoulders told him.

 I have all those prayers I promised if  I caught the fish, he thought . But I am too tired to say them now. I better get the sack and put it over my shoulders.

He lay in the stern and steered and watched for the glow to come in the sky. I have half of him, he thought. Maybe I’ll have the luck to bring the forward half in. I should have some luck. No, he said. You violated your luck when you  went too far outside. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said aloud. ‘keep awake and steer. You may have much luck yet.

‘I ‘d  like to buy some if there’s any place they sell it,’ he said. What could I buy it with? he asked himself. Could I buy it with a lost harpoon and a broken knife and two bad hands ? ‘You might,’ he said. ‘You tried eighty four  days at sea. They nearly sold it to you too.’

I must not think nonsense, he thought. Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her ? I would  take  some though in any form and pay what they asked. I wish  I could see the glow from the lights, he thought. I wish too many things. But that is the thing I wish for now. He tried to settle more comfortably to steer and from his pain he knew  he was not dead………

………Now it is over, he thought. They will probably hit me again. But what can a man do against them in the dark without a weapon? ……………………..I hope I do not have to fight again, he thought. I hope so much I do not have to fight again. But by midnight he fought and this time he knew the fight was useless………………

……………That  was the last shark of  the pack that came.  There was nothing more for them to eat.

The old man could hardly breathe now and he felt a strange taste in his mouth. It was coppery and sweet and he was afraid of it for a moment. But there was not much of it.

He spat into the ocean and said, ‘Eat that, galanos.  And make a dream you’ve killed a man.’