While We Are Here

Hello! I hope this finds you well. I have been scrolling and reading past blog posts for the last fifteen minutes and it is pretty evident that I rarely follow my own advice. It seems that I can only conjure up and write words of wisdom when I am in a place of contentment, a dwelling of assurance. Reflecting on writings from last year, I was writing about some pretty heavy stuff. If you're curious and have the time, feel free to scroll back and read them for yourselves.

Nonetheless, I find it surprising how much I wrote (and still write) about disappointment, heartbreak, and inadequacy during a time that I consider one of the best periods of my life. Like, why? You would think that happiness would breed happiness but I am not so sure of that, speaking from personal experience. Now in my nineteenth year, I accept that earthly happiness is limited, it begins, it ends. Just like everything else from this world. The bedroom you have right now? In a fewyears, another person will occupy the same space, and after them, another. That degree that you are working towards? If it's meant to be, you will obtain it and right after, will be carelessly flung into the real world; a place that promises employment instability and decades of work. My point is that nothing you find in this world will endure, rather, they will pass away. Moments of happiness fade out into the background of reality. Months of euphoria with another could very well turn into years of dissatisfaction and a lack of direction, simply because one places their life in hands that tremble.

But my intention here is not to rant or to vent, it is to remind myself of the importance of my experiences. The significance of my words which outline my beliefs and values as a person. Just because something does not last, its impact on one's life remains the same. 

A boy on his red bike takes a sharp turn, the driver is distracted and hits him, breaking several bones yet sparing his life. The curly-haired soul finds himself in the hospital for several days, frequently visited by his family and his friends, who bring him his favourite donut from Tim Horton's every day. The pain from the bruises and cuts are forgotten in the company of the people that he loves. Men and women, boys and girls who despite not understanding his hurt, comfort him with their kind words and silent joy. He leaves the hospital with a newfound appreciation for the figures in his life, realizing their significance and his responsibility to love them in the same manner. The accident took a matter of seconds to occur, the recovery, multiple weeks in the same room. This boy knew when the car hit him, his life would never be same. Amidst the flashes of white, a frozen realization. His pain turns into joy, his mistake into a lesson. The important moments and experiences in our life are only precious because they end. Their fragility is their beauty, the thing that makes it valuable. 

I understand now the necessity for suffering for it breeds pure love. I recognize what it means to give freely for I know how it feels to have nothing, to be filled with only the intent to care for myself, further distancing me from the most fundamental human desire; to connect. Living is impossible without connection. Because if no one knows that you are alive, then you are not. Reach out, even if it is just for a simple word or action. Talk to your siblings, confide in your parents, message your friends. Do what you must. 

We bear the same burden which in due time, we will overcome. Someone once said or sung (not really quite sure), "keep on keeping on," and that is exactly what we are going to do. Unload the heaviness that weighs on your life, replace it with optimism and a belief that whatever happens from now on is meant to help you walk this path.

Concept art from Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (風の谷のナウシカ, 1984, Topcraft, Toei Company, Art director Nakamura Mitsuki)