Thursday 24 January 2013

Masquerade


She’s walking down the town’s main street. Not on the side walk, but in  the middle of the street, hands out, balancing on the solid white line that keeps opposing traffic in its proper place.

Alone in her own world.

The sound of her feet skipping as she progresses down the road is made louder by the emptiness of the usually bustling town centre.  In fact, it echoes to me still as I gaze at the photograph taken of myself when I was all but ten years of age. Carefree is what it whispers to me, but I no longer know the meaning of that word.

I’ve been told that discovery is all about the journey. So maybe that’s why I find myself back at my childhood home, trying to recreate the portrait of my then care-free existence.  At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. The more truthful reason, whether I like to admit it or not, is that I am escaping from the looks of forced sympathy and words of advice from people who think they have wisdom about my “situation.”

And to be honest, there wasn’t anything altogether wise about telling my boss I would be leaving my job “indefinitely”, taking all my savings and packing off to a place to which I have not been in decades. Though even then, despite all my efforts to stop caring and forcing myself to take things a day at a time, peace still eludes me.

I guess in a way I am once more alone in my own world. I choose solitude now, prize it above rubies. Memories of the looks I have received from friends and co-workers over the past few months follow me still. Their eyes were like fish-hooks, willing the tears from my eyes, each one wanting for themselves the pride of being the shoulder I would cry on. But I never gave anyone that satisfaction.

Today I find myself on the very same street of the distant photograph. It is once again unnaturally still – most of the town’s inhabitants having taken off as I had so many years ago.  I see the street differently now, I realise. The stores that line it no longer hold for me the alluring sense of mystery that delighted my childhood eyes. Each one stands tall and proud, their brightly-painted faces give off a false sense of self-righteousness. For behind their painted facades hang dusty shelves of material desires – insubstantial objects that feed the whims and careless fancies of passing times – filling up the shells of each edifice.  

By now my thoughts have carried me to the end of the street. For some weird reason I can’t quite explain, I find I am not able to face the stores any longer. I decide to end my stroll early, so I turn my back on the empty street and start trudging uphill. It only takes a few moments before I find myself blinking.

Maybe it’s just the wind, but there are tears in my eyes. 



Saturday 19 January 2013

When Idols Crumble




For a society that is increasingly turning to the practice of scorning Faith, we are very adept at constructing pedestals. The problem begins when we base our ideals on those who are as flawed as ourselves. Actors, athletes and the many others who may be grouped in the celebrity class are worshipped and adored by millions of frantic fans who hold them at lofty positions. In fact, when it comes down to it, Hollywood and the various sports industries have surely garnered a cult-like following.

But there is nothing solid about these idols. Though we flock from all over just for the chance to shake their hands and express admiration, they will inevitably let us down. Like us, they are vulnerable to poor choices and immoral desires. Fame does not shield a person from the path of erring. Praise will not keep one from falling.

As long as we consider fellow humans as the standard for which to strive, we will never cease to be disappointed. Instead we must ask ourselves this: Is it better to look to someone placed upon a pedestal of our own creation or to turn our eyes elsewhere and stand upon the firm foundation we had no hand in building?

 
 
Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing can ever be made.

                                                                                                ~ Immanuel Kant