Time consumes the soul, and sheds the unwanted light of the inevitable. Death is on its way, knocking at the cavity that is the body, trespassing, as the body refuses to answer. Time and Death are entities that control, even though we try to fight back with every last drop of blood for at least one bit of control; yet nothing… we cannot win. Time and Death outweigh our bodies as they lay against the threshold of the universe.
Certain things cannot change and will not change, regardless of how much one does. I have grown into my self, learned to abstain from certain things and learned to want to embrace certain things. I have become my own person, different from even a person with a seemingly similar countenance. However, as I have grown and changed and matured, it is always a welcoming sigh of relief when I literally visit the past, to places that will always remain the same.
I recently had to have a dentist appointment (even though I have been avoiding them for the last three years, and I now know never to avoid them again for then imminent doom looms in the near future of my teeth). As soon as I rang the doorbell, the ring rang through my being, memories surging, of pain and comfort and trust and hate all at once. I trembled. The buzz granted me access to the little room, where a different assistant at the desk helped me sign in. Although I immediately saw a face other than the old lady I expected, the younger assistant was still welcoming and warm and I felt a semi-relief.
I sat down in the same old brown chair, and flipped through the same old magazines, and realized that although I have grown in the three years that I have not been to the dentist, the dentist’s office remained entirely the same. The very same mirror that was shaped like a smile, and the identical outdated television set and the wooden walls and green and gray carpet, all were there. This was my little refuge from the outside, and even though the thought of going through an excruciatingly painful dental procedure was in the midst, I felt safe, knowing that nothing would be different.
Sometimes, alone in my dorm room, I feel a pang against my chest, an arrow of sadness that strikes me at the most unsuspecting moment solely because of the fact that I cannot leave this present and melt entirely into the past. And I mean the good past, not the past that I regret everyday as I wake up and every night as I lay to rest. No, I mean the good past, to the past that will forever remain the same; my childhood, my innocence, my blissful ignorance, my old blankets and socks and teddy bears. I am getting old.
You are getting old.
The Earth is getting old.
What can we all do but wait and see what happens? Or to just act accordingly with our age? There are those rebellious souls that try to outshine their age by jumping from airplanes or riding fast motorcycles, and I am sure those are all exciting experiences and that the adrenaline shoots a high of youth into one’s soul, but to what extent can we go on lying to ourselves? I am still fairly young, but my soul feels as though it has walked this earth ten times too many. I have seen things, and done things, that only the old can tell tales of, and yet it is all nothing in comparison to the beautiful end all believers are destined to meet.
The best thing we can do is take the example of all those truly brave souls, those helpers with heart. I have a friend who is so young and so full of love that all she ever thinks about and talks about is how to help people and to be the change you wish to see in the world. It is a beautiful experience every time we converse, but I must admit, that in seeing her spirit on fire for the good of humankind, I am envious and saddened at the fact that I am not at all like that. She is an honest angel cast down from heaven to light up the lives of any and all people that accept her as a friend. Sure, I try every now and then to spare some change to the man on the train, to give a little warm meal to the woman on the corner, to smile as much as I can to the strange yet innocent hello from the stranger. I try… But to what extent can my attempts grant me access into the beautiful end that all believers are destined to meet? I am able but am I capable? To what extent can I outshine her?
“Don’t compare yourself to others,” is the echo of my mom’s words in my head as I type this essay at the moment. And it is a veritable statement. There is no comfort knowing that I cannot be her, but I can be like her, and better yet, I can be me; I can keep sparing change, I can keep sharing meals, I can keep praying for hope and peace, I can keep wishing and dreaming that things will change, that things can change if we all just try. If I do my part, will you do yours? Time is running out, but things don’t have to keep being the same. We are all capable.
No comments:
Post a Comment