Everybody knows

A new day, a new lesson to learn, a new experience, a second chance – to live.

Her eye shut tight as she holds in the pain. Tears flow because of helplessness, her body weakens and she feel her pulse drop. Last morning, a strange but surreal thought came to her mind. A thought that she believed with all her heart when breathing became harder and there were longer pauses between her pulse – that it was the end of the journey for her.

Today, now, the breath you just took in as you read this, and the one you just let out - its another chance to live. We’ve heard countless reminders to live like it was your last, and one day, it will be your last.

Love just because, forgive because someone forgave you, hug because it speaks more than words, laugh even in the toughest situation, cry because it releases you, share because it brings more meaning, take time to appreciate because you can – this is how she will live.

If it really is the end of the journey for you now, are there things that you’ve left incomplete? Go do that – today.

The stories we wrote.

“Everyday is a new story” – Marissa

 

Time passes by so fast. Where she is now is a place far from where she was six months ago. The road she took when she begun the new journey and the potholes and turnings has lead her to a road far from where it all began.

We’re all writers. We’re all working on a book with our names imprinted on the front cover. But the stories we write are different. Some write tragedy, some write love stories, some write about dreams. Whatever it is we’re writing at this time of our lives, we are nevertheless writing. Writing – an active word because reading this, you’re still working on that book –your book.

Today, she flipped through her book, where the pages are stained with words. And as she read through how one chapter closed and opens to a new one, she saw how some of the character in the book exits and enters as well. But what caught her attention was how she wasn't always the writer of her book.

 

Writing is not always an easy process, sometimes living is easy, other times we wished it was easy. And those are the times some of us have handed our pen to circumstances, and the people around us. People who have bruised our pages, caused pain and smudged the page. We let them write our story.

 

We might have given away our pen last year, yesterday, or the day before, or maybe just now, but what’s wonderful is that we can take it back. And write our story, with our dreams filled with hope and love. But as you write, don’t draw a line away from torn friendship, and broken dreams. Drawing a line away from something to protect ourselves from harm and pain is something nobody taught us to do, but we have been so good at it. Instead, lets try drawing a line to it.  And if you can, make connections, rebuild it, or else learn from it, but never hand the pen to it.

The book we write might not make it to the bestsellers list but as long as there are blank pages, keep writing, because its your book.

We’re all builders.

 

Seasons – we all have it. In a funny way, it keeps our life in order, like a folder which entitles ‘when i was eight’ or ‘college and all the stuff we did’ . We all have seasons in our life like folders.

Last season was really something for her. She learnt so many life lessons she didn’t have time to note all of them down here.

Life is such that we’re always building. Some people are building their family, some are building their faith, some are building a relationship. We’re all builders. But everything built can also be broken.

Last season she tore quite a number of buildings she held dear to her heart. Imagine building something so long and then one day, all that has been built starts falling apart. It was difficult. More than that, it was confusing. But if she had the chance to go back to that season, she would do the same thing all over again.

 

You don’t have to be an architect to know that unless you have a firm foundation whatever that you have set your heart to build will not last very long. And firm foundation could sometimes mean you need to dig deeper before you pile in the strong irons that would hold that thing you’re building. And if there was already a building built on weak foundation, that’s when you tear that building down and start working on the foundation- if its worth all the trouble.

Sometimes you have to break to make - to make something better than before, something stronger.

But sometimes, after tearing that thing you been building, instead of building it back, you might consider just leaving it torn down to the ground because it isn’t worth building all over again. Other times you try and try to build, and it keeps falling apart. It can get frustrating, sometimes you rather just sit and watch it fall and not do anything anymore.

 

Sometimes it gets tiring, trying to build something that falls even when you lay the first brick. But it is when you get tired of trying, take some time, go someplace, take your mind off, regain strength, and when you’re ready, remember what made you want to build that building in the first place, and try again.

One reason – just one is all that is needed to build. Find that one.

Pursuit of an answer.

“ The world is your classroom.” – mum

The past couple of days, she has been learning, not because she is living in that classroom but rather because she wants to.

 

Questions.

We all have them – no, it wasn’t the why questions, rather the what questions. If the world is her classroom, then she would like a refreshment course. She picked up the book she has been writing, the book that you and I have, flipping through the pages, she tries to look for a reason. An answer to one question – Love. A reason for love.

How can something affect us so mightily, how can something hurt us so much when it goes unnoticed, how is it that that something heal us, how can that very something affect us so much, and yet we don’t know what makes us do it.

Looking through the pages, she found no one definite reason. What makes us care that we care so much?

 

 What.

In pursuit of the answer behind this question, she asked the very person who loves her. She asked, and uttered the words,  the question came out right, but the answer came out unexpected.

The answer she received was not in words, but what welled up in the eye of the one she love. The drops that welled had a reflection of   herself. She found more than an answer, she found love. That answered all.

The world is a classroom, but the teachers are not always right. She learnt today that sometimes, we do the things we do, just because we want to. We love the people we love - just because we do. We fight for what we believe in – just because we do. And she learnt it through a friend- a best friend.

Sometimes when you’re in a classroom and there is a question. You try to look for the answers, you open the books, you search through your own written book, but there is no answer. Well, stop flipping through, sometimes you learn the best things out of the classroom, sometimes the answers are not where you are searching.

Right now, you’re in a classroom. The teacher has a name tag that spells ‘M-I-S-T-A-K-E-S’. Why don’t you ask that teacher to take a sit, and you try taking over the class instead, because when you do, the lessons you learn and the meaning you will find will be extraordinary.

But in the midst of learning, don’t forget to live.  Because in trying to answer her question, she almost forgot to do just that –live.

 Live – just because.

Pocket full of words.

 

Today she wore a jumpsuit. The kind that makes you feel like a child again. The kind that reminds you about that time you were a child and you discovered there is an empty little bag like thingy by the side of your pants people call pockets and that makes your boring pants so much more cooler. And the more pockets you have, the more cooler your pants is. Well, this jumpsuit was really really very cool.

Its a beautiful day. The sun didn’t shine too much, because the clouds had just poured rain, with the breeze blowing enough fresh air to make you feel like you’re on top of the world. She walked, like how you would on a day like this. She slips her hands  to the sides into her pockets to keep it warm and nice, but it was filled with so many things – words.

Like the kind you would see on a kids cereal box, she had words inside her pockets. Lots of words. Words that discourages,  words that heals, some lifts up, some puts down, and others broken. But all of it were in her pockets. In fact is explains the extra weight she has been carrying all along the journey.

Words are sometimes like knifes. As cliché as it may sound, you can use them to cut. Or to sharpen. But if not handled well, you might get a wound or cause someone else to. But no matter what the knife is capable of doing, remember we are the ones who hold the knifes. You and I.

Today, she pulled the words which were not worth keeping anymore. She kept words that sharpens instead, you should too. Because its not worth carrying the weight.

Hold your knife, blow a candle and cut a cake. Celebrate life, encourage. Because your knife is in your hands.

A friend better than a mirror.

 

Sometimes people can’t see hope anymore, you don’t seem to see it that way . – Jas

 

Sometimes you look at the reflection at the mirror and all you see is where the spots are, where the freckles are.

Today in her journey, she stepped into a place filled with mirrors. Mirrors of all kind. One that enlarges, one that shrinks, that heightens and one that shortens. But the things that only seem to reflect back is the spots.

Today, she stood in the mercy of her reflection with a question.

Is she enough? For all the things she does, is she enough? Is she enough for everyone and every other thing?

Sometimes in our lives, all we need is a new perspective, a reassurance, a friend.

 

Just that time a friend came into that room with mirrors, and for every reflection, her new company saw something in that reflection that she fail to see all along.

Hope and preservation.

And that was enough for her. To know that she is of hope and that she never stops trying. These two words will resound in her head for a very long time, like water to one who thirsts, it will sustain her spirit.

You too are more than the man in the mirror. Much more. Pass the freckles, pass the marks on your face, there is something inside of you.  You are made for a reason but instead of wasting your time searching for that reason, start living first. Because I believe unless you  start living, no other reason will matter.

Someone once said, ‘ don’t ask what the world needs,  ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

You are more than your reflection tells you.

The world needs someone like you. - Jas

The wait.

How much of human life is lost in waiting. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

We’re constantly waiting for something. Whether it’s a cab, or a relationship to bloom, or a decision, or somebody, or for a day, or for life. We’re constantly waiting.

Someone once said that the hospital is a place people go with questions but in which they do not come out with an answer but an extension. I walked into a ward and on every bed laid a life – a story. In this room there were two stories.

Erica

Her book of life is stained with blood - blood from her wrist. As I entered the room, I see her sit up on her bed talking to the company of people who comes to lend a support, who tries to wipe that blood stains on her book and flip it to a new page, who is trying to give her one reason to live.

 

A few feet away, lay another story, an aged one. One in which wisdom whispers through its pages, and its pages reaching the end.

Pakiam

Her fragile body lay quiet on the mattress. Her hair white pulled neatly to a knot behind, every strand representing the years she took upon writing her pages. As I watched her lay, her brittle legs start moving. And she pushed her legs out of bed by the side bars of the bed. Her hands held tight on the bar as she pushed herself to the corner of her bed. All she ever wants to do is stand. But because her legs were too weak she couldn’t.

I listened as Pakiam spoke of the people she loves. Her children, whom oblivious for her own good that they have abandoned her long ago. She took my friend who was standing next to me as her child, and begun talking about the times she has been waiting for her.

It’s ironic that the one whose book is left with so many blank chapters is trying to end the book. The one who has all the support is still in need of love. The one who can stand wants to fall. But the one who’s book is about to end, has not stopped writing. The one who has no support, and who is abandoned can show love. And the one who knows she will fall if she stands up, never stops trying.

But what more is that this two stories are just laying a few feet away from each other in the same room – waiting. Waiting to leave the room for different reasons.

 

In many ways, we are all waiting. Question is, what are we waiting for? The great John Lenon says, life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. I think, life is what passes you by when you’re busy waiting.

If only we all know the reason Pakiam tries to stand up again and again although she knows she will most definitely fall, we might stop waiting any longer and try standing up. Try at least – to put one feet in front of another. To move. To live life as it comes.

Pakiam stood up again the next day. She fell again with her legs bruised. But that very day, her daughter had come to see her.

What are you waiting for?