Into My Arms
On perfect and imperfect worlds
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Dear Bolu,
In our palpable attempt at small talk, Fiyin had asked me what I thought would make a perfect world. “In a perfect world”, she said as another heavy gulp of iced tea travelled down her throat, “what would you like or dislike to see?” "Ehhh", was the only thing I muttered as I began thinking deeply about the question. When I realised that my travelling thoughts would take too long to land on an answer, I pulled out my tried and trusted "World Hunger" card. It's such a good card to have, especially if you are in the company of respectable people and there’s little time to respond to a question. Find a way to squeeze in “world hunger”, and you’d be immediately considered respectable if you weren’t before. “If you had a million dollars now, what would you do?” “Contribute my quota to ending world hunger.” It works like a charm, I promise. But you must be careful to use it when the situation is dire because it can only be played once. And so my answer to Fiyin’s question was along those lines; “In a perfect world, there’d be no world hunger.” It’s a flat, empty response. It’s devoid of any meaningful thought, but I suppose deep thought doesn’t matter much in small talk. She seemed satisfied, and that is always a good sign. Although now that I force the recollection of that moment, it may have been that she was satisfied instead with the tea and not my banal answer. I’ll never know for sure. I do find the concept of iced tea strange, though. It’s supposed to be a refreshing drink, but I don’t understand it. Why would you refrigerate tea? Why would you put ice in it? How does cold Lipton refresh you? Even the thought isn’t refreshing at all. Haha, what do I know?
Later that Friday evening, I couldn’t stop pondering Fiyin’s question as I headed home in the back of an Uber. I say “evening”, but it was rather late—later than I’m used to, but this was an exceptional day. We had an end-of-the-year party at work, and I needed to be physically present. I ordinarily wouldn’t be at such gatherings—not because I am a social pariah, no; I have my own little public vanities that are best kept secret. You won’t find me at such parties because I don’t want to bond with my colleagues. Who does, anyway? I don’t want to know about your lego collection, ballet lessons, cooking recipes or the drone you personally built. They may be great, but I frankly don’t care. I do, however, care about Fiyin, and that’s the singular reason I honoured Friday’s party invitation. Since we work remotely, I hardly ever meet my colleagues physically. This is great, yes, unless, of course, there’s someone you’d really like to see and hear without the interference of webcams and microphones. It’s great unless there’s a Fiyin at your workplace like there is in mine. Oh dear, it’s no accident that her name frequently appears in this letter. It’s simply that I fancy her. I fancy her in no small measure. I’d speak of her in increasingly glowing terms, but I fear that I may bore you. All I’ll say is that she would be the one if I ever had to have an office spouse. At present, she’s the only fountain I want to drink from. And if I had any lucky coins left, I’d throw every single one on her. So yes, I was at that party to attend to a matter of the heart and seeing my manager show off his awful lego collection was just a bonus.
I thought—and I still think—Fiyin’s question was interesting. It’s easy to come up with things we’d like to see or not see in a perfect world. You may have done that in the past. You may also have heard someone express such sentiments. “In a perfect world, equality of opportunities wouldn’t be a debate.” “If this world were perfect, this niche artiste would be the thing and receive the recognition he’s owed.” Great. I think such statements are said wishfully and that there’s nothing wrong with them. I also think they insinuate that the world as we know it is imperfect. Oh, you think so too? Well, I don’t know. How might you create a perfect world? If you built one which satisfies all of our wishes for a perfect world, then it would be perfect, yes? No world hunger. Equality of opportunities is assured. That niche artiste is renowned, etc. But would it really be perfect? I think not. We’d have the same problem we do now, which is that not everyone will be satisfied with the perfectness of that world. There’d be a new niche artist that doesn’t get the plaudits they deserve. In fact, there’d be people in that perfect world who would say, “in a perfect world, equality of opportunities would not exist.” That perfect world would be no different from this one as they both share the same sufferings. In a sense, therefore, this world is already perfect. And no other world can exist that is different from this one.
It also seems that praying for certain things to come to pass is akin to wishing that one’s world would become more perfect if those things came to be. “If this world were perfect, I’d own a car”, and so you pray for a car. “In a perfect world, rain wouldn’t fall on my wedding day”, and so you pray that rain doesn’t fall on that day. I think that if we all had the ears of the convener of this world—of God—whether He’s a spirit, a collection of spirits, an idea, or anything else, He’d presumably grant all these wishes. He’d answer all our prayers, and we’d all think the world perfect. However, as I explained earlier, such a perfect world doesn’t exist. It cannot exist. We all have competing ideas of what a perfect world should be, so it is impossible that all our prayers get answered. That’s why we have and will always have unanswered prayers. It’s also why one can make a case against prayers and even the existence of an interventionist God.
Oh well. I may be wrong. I may be very wide off the mark. After all, what do I know? What is a perfect world to you, though? What do you pray for? Who do you pray for? For me, there is only Fiyin on my mind. If I could, I’d take back the answer I gave her on Friday and undo the “world hunger” card I played. I’d say instead that in a perfect world, there’d be no work policy against getting involved with her; I’d understand the concept of iced tea well enough to share that refreshing drink with her, and she would grace my arms just as she graces my thoughts.
Fin.
P.S.
The title of this letter is a nod to Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ Into My Arms.
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Write you soon, merci!
- Wolemercy