While waiting outside my sister’s high school… I remembered something that had taken place about ten years ago, when I attended the same school…
It was a beautiful summer day. Classes had ended an hour ago but I hung around for group meeting. It was about four in the afternoon when I stepped outside the school and was met with a man. When I first saw him he was standing very still…staring at the school with with a look of incredulity… as if he was reminiscing.
When I got closer to where he was standing, he turned and asked me where the office was. I pointed towards the direction to which he responded… “it’s still in the same place.” I assumed he was a parent or an older sibling of someone who attended the school. Ofcourse at that time I was not very observant of his age. He just looked older and that is all I noticed.
Right when I was about to walk away he says ” you know, I used to go to this school ten years ago” and I said ” wow! that was a long time ago”. That is all I remember of that moment.
I did not remember that moment until I was sitting in the car waiting for my sister… reminiscing about the great and not so great times I had, had in that school… ten years ago… I was now standing in that man shoes… and what seemed like a long time back then… ten years… does not seem that long ago after all. I now feel what that man felt then. He must have seen the ten years fly by… As I have experienced since high school.
That is when I came to the realization that things had come back in full circle…
I would love to hear others’ experiences/thoughts related to the topic.
All cried out and yesterday’s tears dried up, I wake up to the news that one of my cousin’s twelve year old is in critical condition, probably in a hospital ward where hundreds other lay hoping for a chance at life. Most of my extended family still resides in a third world country where those who were not fortunate enough to be born into the elite rich class struggle to find safe and helpful healthcare.
Makes me see how menial the problems we face here in a first world country are compared to those at another end of the world. Reminds me never to take for granted the blessings which were and are bestowed upon my family and I for having left that place behind. To have security and peace of mind, to have proper healthcare. I do not rest my head at night thinking about whether I’ll have food in the morning or not. I walk the streets free, I drive as I please to where I please without the supervision of a man. All things that could not be had I still been living in a different part of the world.
Today I only have a prayer in my heart for my twelve year old, second cousin and gratitude towards God and his blessings. Thank you.
Having dealt with an emotionally charged day… I got to thinking when do you stop putting others before yourself? Obviously its impossible to stop caring for the ones you love but when do you throw in the proverbial towel and say I can no longer take care of someone because it is causing me to lose my self in the process? It is very difficult for someone like me who had always been a care taker, almost a father figure to my siblings, even though I am their older sister, to not care about someone I love. After my mother split up with my abusive father and I being the eldest out of five, my Eastern culture and custom put me in a position where I had to make sure everyone in the family was alright before I checked my self, just as my mother did.
But I, at the age of seventeen, was not ready to be a parent to four younger siblings. I do not regret a minute of the time I spent worrying and disciplining because thank God all of them are healthy and happy and successful. Recently the youngest turned eighteen. I am tired. I am exhausted, both emotionally and physically drained. I put on a happy face to try to trick my self into believing that I am happy. But deep down I know I am sad and lonely. No matter how many people around me reassure me every moment that they love me and support me and even though I feel that love and support, sometimes I want to collapse and give into my depression and let my self loath in the misery that I feel. But I can’t do that. I can’t do that because my fragile mother would take one look at my face and herself, would fall. Even though she can see right through my happy facade at least it gives her hope and reassurance that I am alright, at least for the moment.
There are two types of people when it comes to karma: those who believe in it and those who do not. I am not sure where I stand… maybe somewhere in the middle? I do believe that you should treat others as you would want to be treated and that doing good means good will happen to you. But then you see people who are going about their lives with not a care in the world regarding how their action impact others… They seem to be doing fine… When does Karma come into play?
The origins of karma come from Hinduism where it is believed that when you are reborn into another life, you will reap what you had sown in the previous life, be it good or bad (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/karma). I am not sure about reincarnation but according to the law of karma then, why is it then that good people must suffer? For instance, why must good, innocent children suffer? What did they do to deserve starvation and abuse and poverty across the globe? Why are the leaders and politicians of third world countries thriving on the money that should be pouring down to the poor? Why is karma not kicking them in the butt? Is it because they simply do not believe in such superstition? Which then makes me wonder… is there karma without its acknowledgement? Is it simply superstition? Does Karma exist at the cosmic level?
I Would love to hear thoughts on this topic 🙂 so please feel free to express yours.
My grade twelve ISU novel, “A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens, started off with the quote portrayed above. Although I cannot recall ever finishing that book, this particular line from the book has stood true in my mind, especially in recent self-reflection. How can it be the best of times but still be the worst of times? Well, wiser now in my late twenties and having to have struggled throughout my life one way or another, I can see how it can be the best of times whilst being the worst of times.
I spent the earlier years of my life in a third world country. A country filled with chaos, violence and anarchy. However, I can only recall a childhood filled with love and innocence. Albeit that innocence always hung on by a string as predators, sexual predators liked to prey on the innocent and dangers of violence, death and worse kidnapping lie in wait all around. Before turning eight I had attended the funerals of faultless, adolescent neighborhood boys pushed, by poverty, into gang wars and violence of prominent landlords of the area. With violence and grief and predation surrounding me I was still a very happy child, discovering my surroundings through my unassuming and unblemished heart and mind, protected by my innocent age.
Molested a few times by different people before the age of nine, I did not tell a soul. Because even though I was young, I knew that my protective mother would try to hide me from all the evils that lurked around. I stood to lose my freedom. The freedom to run the relatively safe and innocent streets of a village where I would gallop away my childhood, free of mindful thinking, free from burdens of adulthood, free of feelings of fear and loss. The freedom to jump over puddles, to pretend fly with the gusts of wind that came with the semi annual torrential pours, that cleansed the streets and quenched the thirsty villagers and farmers alike. Although I had maintained my freedom then, my naive mind did not foresee the repercussions of concealing such secrets (which in it self is a new post).
I lived, then, a life where it was both the best of times and the worst of times.