Two Spirits...

Two young spirits, wandering in a forest of tall trees and honey mist chance upon each other by fate. Having newly parted the physical world, they sit together for a chat, seeking encouragement and advice. They no longer speak of life’s possessions of love, money, politics and happiness, but of the Ultimate subject: Life itself.

The younger one asked, “Which concept do you believe in, Destiny or Free Will?”

After pondering for a while, the older one answered, “I think Free Will is an illusion.”

“I’m so relieved you think so, because I think so too” said the first, oblivious of the realization that every dying and every dead will think so in the end. “If everything is preplanned, then no matter how much you willed to do something, and no matter what you chose to do, it already was written that you will do it.”

“I agree. But what if it’s both of these concepts together? Perhaps it was already decided how you will die, or when, but up until that point, you were free to do what you want, and one way or another you were eventually going to die the same way or time,” said the second.

“Still, if we consider this example where I will to hit you, and I hit you,” refuted the young one, “isn’t that Free Will?”

“Yes, that would be your Free Will, but also my Destiny, because I didn’t choose to be hit!” answered the other.

“Alright, what about suicide?” said the first soul. “If it was fated that you commit suicide, and you commit suicide out of your own choice, how can you still think it was your own free will? It’s either Destiny or Free Will.”

“Let’s consider chess,” replied the older spirit. “Let’s suppose Destiny to be the chessboard, and the chess pieces to be our lives. You’re moving the pieces out of free will, but you are still in the domain of the board, the destiny.”

“Yes, but if I’m the King and fall on purpose because I’m sick of the game, isn’t that Free Will?”

“Yes, but you still belong to the chessboard…”

Copyright © 2007 Daisy Tchiftjian

Enigmas To Resolve

Part I

Tribute to a little one I saw on TV and all those suffering from the same condition

See that boy about four years of age,
Wholeheartedly laughing with his parents,
Running around in the living room,
So happy and careless,
I wonder if he knows his fate;
Born with a terminal illness,
He’s his parents only joy – and ache.

It’s a story we hear everyday,
It stings like a mosquito bite
Then in a minute, fades away;
But it’s not like that when one sees it for real,
The way father and mother hold him steady
While his whole body heaves,
Coughing and breathing his heart out
As tears stream down his little face
To bare the pain of suffering in his eyes…
Oh the sight of that pain that haunts me to this day
Dear Lord, how can I feel happy again?!