I greeted the October morning sun with the usual drowsy, unsuspecting attitude, not even trying to be clairvoyant about the day. Later on, I saw my friends being frantic and in such a haste to leave. It seemed like a pressing matter, so I asked with concern what was happening. Were they on the way to the hospital or something? They all stopped and looked at me dumbfounded. They were about to ask whether or not I was joking, but apparently the concern on my face firmly suggested anything but. Then they suddenly erupted into a chorus of laughter! They told me to calm my nerves because they were just heading over to celebrate Masskara. The Masskara? Oh. It’s already starting? I was told that it’s actually about to end already. Whoa, I was certain that the city was just buzzing with preparations just a few moments ago…..
I staggered in astonishment and tried to do a run-through of my existence. Am I a cavewoman? No. Am I from 1923? No. Where was I all along? I’m quite sure that I belong to the decade 2015, so why am I behind the news? It is reasonable, though, because probably the exam week had me so engrossed that it drowned the uproar of the city. But still….
To sum it up, I guess my astonishment was trying to say, “Whoa, so things carried on without me, huh?”
Now, furiously blinking amidst my dumbfounded state, an insight stands out to me in bold, italicized letters, saying “The world would stop for no one.” You may be caught up in a tornado, drown in the quiet suburbs of your unquiet mind or have a beloved die in your arms and feel like the world is crashing down in smithereens, but that wouldn’t shake the fact that the world won’t stop for you. Not for you, not for your heartbreak, not for the salvation of your sanity. So the next time you feel like the world is crumbling down, disregard that thought. It is a lie. Because for all you care, the world couldn’t be bothered so much to even take a pause and notice you in the corner.
The world will continue to revolve in its own axis. Ever so dutiful, ever so constant.
Constantly detached, constantly aloof, constantly changing.
But on second thought, maybe that’s just because the world is such a giant. Perhaps it has so much at risk, that’s why it is afraid to gamble. I mean, will you play with fire if you’re bathed in gasoline? Perhaps the world might be so titanic as to be incapable of yielding to emotions, to vulnerability and to humanness but I, however, am not. I am not a giant. I am not a big shot. I am not calloused nor benumbed by the enormity of my ego, pride and vanity.
Another insight I gained in this mid-October reverie is that I am minuscule and irrelevant — just the speck in the galaxy. I am human. Nevertheless, I will be brave enough to be vulnerable. I will be sensitive to the caress of the wind and to the beckoning of the earth to the sole of my feet. I will have the compassion to pause for a while to wipe the tears of those who grieve. What might seem like my weakness would be my greatest strength.
In the end, it wouldn’t matter if the world won’t stop for me, you or for anyone. What would matter most is we have done something worth its perennial pirouette.
The farther I think from myself and more into others, the better. Because then, the world would continue turning in a better way.
By this realization, I am now willingly attuned and even in love with my century.