One Last Rose

“

Dreams may fade and wilt but  Hope springs eternal.                        ~ Alexander Pope

”

                                                                                               

One Last Rose

White petals,

like softly falling snow:

shroud summer's blossoming dreams.

A Stroke of Lightning

Wow. Every now and then you really need to marvel at the awe-inspiring phenomena that abound in this world. And sometimes it’s the incredible minutest of details, bringing them about, that cause me to wonder. Take lightning for example. I am sure many would agree that their power and intensity are something to be appreciated… or even feared. We find ourselves many-a-time amazed at their spectacle when, in fact, the true miracle is that they even strike at all. For, despite their high voltages, “a bolt of lightning is not nearly strong enough to overcome the insulating properties of air.”¹ Another factor needs to come into play- something that is not based on the lightning’s power alone; and for all the high-speed cameras that are continuously being improved, its cause remains elusive.  

This one missing piece: the spark that starts it all. It is an unknown beyond one’s comprehension- something we cannot see nor fully grasp. And that’s where the light shines greatest in lightning. For if these tiny, unseen details are already taken care of in this world, I wonder what changes are possible in me.

¹Johnson, George. "Chasing Lightning." National Geographic. August 2012: 106. 

The Normal Conundrum

I hate the word “normal”.  It can’t be defined and I think we just waste our time trying to reach its elusive and treacherous ideal. The desire to be ordinary is perhaps one of humanity’s greatest puzzles. And maybe “fitting” the pieces together isn’t the way to solve it.

Normal is what we think everyone else thinks is normal; there is no static definition of the word and, for that reason, it is an unattainable standard to wish to achieve. But we all strive for a sense of normalcy and, unfortunately, use it as a driving force in our lives. In our race to be like “everybody else”, we leave our true selves trampled behind us. It seems impossible to break free of this mindset because society impresses upon everyone at an early age a desire to please others at all cost. It’s as if we have been set up for failure.

In the end, we either have to assimilate and be like what we believe everyone else to be or find contentment in breaking apart and staying true to ourselves. The latter is not easy because we feel pressured by the world to merge with everyone else. However, theoretically speaking, if we truly accept ourselves for who we are, than the acceptance of everyone else shouldn’t matter at all. I don’t know of this is any more possible than reaching “normal’, but at least it’s a constructive concept for which to strive.

Building Walls

Too many people waste their time trying to be someone else. I wonder how many times we have walked into a room of pasted smiles and false laughter; where we find ourselves as mere spectres going about life, each ignorant in our own isolation. Somehow, we feel better when we are busy constructing barriers; thinking we are protecting ourselves by keeping others from catching a glimpse of the real person within. But problems arise from this self-deception.  Not expressing one’s true feelings only results in anger and resentment. Moreover, hiding our true selves is an exhausting undertaking and never really gives a sense of security.

As proven throughout history, walls are seldom able to maintain their purpose indefinitely. The Berlin Wall fell, the Great Wall of China, a symbol of power, still gave way to the Mongols and other invaders. In the same way, we build walls of false images and spend all our energy trying to sustain them. It is a fruitless effort for, in doing so, we miss out on much and forget what’s important; like loving others or having loyal friends and supportive families.

This begs the question of who are we really afraid of? For the walls will eventually fall and then with whom are we left? Surely not those we have blocked out.

These mental strongholds: We try to hide behind them but all we succeed in achieving is hiding from ourselves. For the real threat comes from within and no matter how many outer defenses we mount, they won’t shield us from the true person inside. And peace will only come through acceptance.

Saving Superman

-A short story-

My best memories of childhood always began with a hunt through the linen closet. I would be looking each time for the indispensable superhero necessities: a rag to fashion a cape- an old towel would do perfectly- and a strip of cloth for a mask. A few tucks here, a little adjusting there, a poor attempt at forming a knot and, voila, I became a caped hero, defending the world from the masked marauders of the night.

There was always that anticipation of dressing up, that delicious feeling of being someone else for a short period of time, where my reality would slip away and I could escape from the confines of my small, childhood world. In those fantasy-filled moments, I fully believed I had become one of them and that by defeating my imaginary villains, I was somehow protecting the world from the horrors that plagued it. As if by simply wearing a cape, I could take the burdens of the world upon my childish frame.

But I was young and my sheltered eyes had seen little of those horrors; my imagination unable to truly construct what held the world in bondage. My war was of a fun sort, where the good guys always won and vengeance always dealt without fail. When I look back upon that period of my existence, it is easy to laugh at the ignorance of my childhood innocence. Because to me then, the world was of a monochrome nature; where right and wrong were divided as clearly as day and night. Not at all like the hazy twilight where I find myself pondering such beliefs, now so many years in the future.

And what is it that I believe now? For the difference between adults and children is that we see the world through a different lens, so that we often reject what is right before our eyes: the pure, the innocent, all that is simple and good is lost in the shadows of cynicism. It is our inability to clearly distinguish the difference between night and day that sends us to the stumbling block of nations. Maybe if, for a moment, every leader of every country were to lower himself to the eye level of a five-year-old, the world would be a better place. But these are most likely the mad ramblings of a delusional dreamer.

So is that why today I once again yearn to see things through the over-simplified worldview of youth? It’s morning once more and I’m looking out the window. I hear laughter and soon see a boy appear from behind the house across the street. He is wearing a mask, his eyes peering out from its exaggerated features. I’m trying to discern whose face he is hiding behind, almost frantically now because I think I already know. He is running and jumping, twirling and bouncing through the sun-dappled morning. And suddenly- might it be because of the angle of the sun?- I can see it clearly. For here I am, in a cape once more, but trying to save superman.