We see the world in continents, countries, states, currencies, languages, cultures, and rituals. We call it Mother Earth, our only home when there's an outrageous environmental crisis threatening our survival. We see people in castes, and colors, on a scale of 1-10, good or bad, rich or poor, successful or a waste of space, sane or mad. We argue in wrong and right. We think in binaries of black and white. But, funny enough, there are 50 shades of grey.
We are cognitively rigid and distorted. When you walk into a bookstore, there are thousands of books classified into various genres and I suppose, sub-genres. You are certain you want a self-help, motivational, growth-oriented, 1% better everyday type of book. It is natural for you to march towards the self-help aisle, pick up the books you want, pay, get back home, and start being productive.
Why would we pause? Allow ourselves to get distracted, perhaps by the fiction aisle, considered the polar opposite. "How am I supposed to learn something from a dramatically exaggerated version of something that happened in someone's life? Or worse, someone wrote 300 pages of something they made up in their head. No way!" You probably start wondering if you can even fit this into your 3-hour morning routine or the 4-hour nighttime routine, no offense.
I say, pick a book from the fiction aisle as well. Yes, the drama might be a bit unnecessary for your taste or you simply don't buy that the serial killer was never caught until one day he was, because the story had to end. But, in lanes of this aisle are millions of voices. Unheard cries. Unspoken words. Dreams are kept to oneself. Manipulative lies. Promises unfulfilled. Unbearable pain. Different faces of the rock bottom. Having to start all over again. And amidst all that turmoil, is hope. Healing that seemed unreachable but you watch the protagonist blossom into strength. Into the "better" you were hoping for, as you give that one fictional story a chance to take you on an unplanned journey.
We talk about making the world a better place only during times when the system starts falling apart. We speak of togetherness in today's crisis of loneliness as we divide the world into borders, currencies, castes, colors, into the binaries of good and bad. We enter bookstores searching for the “right” genre. Motivation, growth, discipline, and rules for success; are all neatly packaged in glossy covers. But sometimes, growth finds you in stories unexpected.
Can we walk into a bookstore with no aisles? No pain is labeled as a different genre. No title is more glorified than the other. Growth doesn’t necessarily come from narrowing your focus and fixating on a certain trend or how we ought to achieve it. We dismiss fiction as irrelevant, forgetting that not all stories need to fix us. Not all meaning comes from what you can relate to. Growth might as well come to you by surprise when you allow randomness.
You may find yourself not being able to relate if the story is set in an environment unfamiliar to yours. Unheard customs, unknown cities, and people who speak and live differently. Much like the situations we face in life do not always mirror our anticipation but do we refuse to survive those? Or, do we even have a choice to refuse when you know, you have to keep going? It is precisely in those unfamiliar pages that empathy finds you, imagination stretches and the continuum of your worldview bends a little wider.
So, pause, let yourself wander and when you are in the bookstore next time looking for a particular genre, you might as well allow yourself to get distracted just for a little while.