Bits and pieces of a long gone past
Taped together somehow.
Floating into an unknown future
Did I ever exist in the now?
Akin spirits lost just like me
Forming what I call my life.
Slaves of routine, aimlessness
Marching to the fife.
What am I then, if I don’t live in the present?
Waiting for each moment to be gone?
Waking up to find that my life’s lost and over
Passing over dejected and forlorn.
Sometimes I wonder what I’ve been doing
How did I end up here?
From a carefree child to a complicated adult
I soared so fast it’s a blur.
If only I could unscrew my mind!
Open it to move things around!
Figure out how that damn thing works,
So I can retrace how I got to my now.
“Don’t live in the past, don’t fret over the future
Live each moment as it comes!”
Whoever said that is either very happy
Or to the sadness has already succumbed.
Because I try my best, to do my best.
But the past somehow catches up with me.
Leaving me stressed,
Completely depressed,
Until I can no more believe.
I have these moments when I’m happy and smiling,
What the world seems to know me by.
Fooling them all! And sometimes myself
Locking up what’s really inside.
That’s how I interact and communicate with others.
With a barrier that I cant seem to break.
But I’m trying, and this writing is an attempt,
To destroy in me all that is fake.
Showing posts with label future. Show all posts
Showing posts with label future. Show all posts
Friday, August 31, 2012
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
A DYING BREED
I am 28 years old and I am growing up in a world of extremism. A rapidly growing outlet for anger has changed from exchanging of a few harsh words and holding of collars to a bullet. The only noticeable expression of a comfortable life has changed from healthy meals and shopping sprees once a month to setting up camp in malls, at least 3 cars for the two members of your family and an Armani wrist watch on your hand. The Jeans are getting shorter, the tops are getting lower, TV screens are getting bigger and religion no more echoes faith in anything larger than life but has become a business. The more we move towards the glowing light emitting from dollar bills and pounds, the blinder we are becoming to the littered streets of our nation. The more we get hypnotized by the sound of gold coins clinking together, the deafer we are to the voices of the poor. Money is no more a medium of payment to buy and sell goods. Instead, it has become a pass to neglect morality, social responsibility, law, heck even traffic lights. A pass “GUARANTEED BY THE CENTRAL GOVERNMENT” in case you have any legal reservations and stamped with Gandhiji’s smiling face on it in case you have any moral reservations. The world is tumbling into a pit of chaos and there is no gravity defying superhero in sight to save us.
But there is hope. And the realization of this hope can only come if people my age listen. Listen, learn and rectify. It seems as though the new parents, those in between the generation that my parents belong to and the generation I belong to, have relinquished responsibility and left parenting up to televisions and computers. Boundaries that are important to maintain a healthy growing atmosphere are becoming blurred because parents push their children to extremes to help them keep up with the extremism. In keeping up with school, extra tuition, football classes, dance classes, swimming classes, art classes, birthdays and endless banal social obligations, the time for parents to discipline and germinate a conscience in their children has disappeared. And it took the entire breed of distinguished parents who truly understood how to raise responsible human beings along with it.
But there is still hope. The hope is with you and me. Spend time with your children when you have them. Remember their birthdays because you’re happy they were born and not because it is an opportunity to flaunt your money by throwing a party. Buy them what they need, even occasionally what they want; don’t buy them everything. Don’t be embarrassed by their public tantrums and give in to their every demand. When they get their first job, don’t ask about the pay. Instead, pop down to Archie's and buy them a card. Don’t be afraid to hurt their feelings if you’re doing it for their own good. Give them pocket money not blank cheques. And most importantly, remember everything your parents did while raising you that annoyed you the most, and do it. They were the ones trying to salvage the dying breed. So listen to them, learn from them and then perhaps we can rectify the extremism we’re living in.
But there is hope. And the realization of this hope can only come if people my age listen. Listen, learn and rectify. It seems as though the new parents, those in between the generation that my parents belong to and the generation I belong to, have relinquished responsibility and left parenting up to televisions and computers. Boundaries that are important to maintain a healthy growing atmosphere are becoming blurred because parents push their children to extremes to help them keep up with the extremism. In keeping up with school, extra tuition, football classes, dance classes, swimming classes, art classes, birthdays and endless banal social obligations, the time for parents to discipline and germinate a conscience in their children has disappeared. And it took the entire breed of distinguished parents who truly understood how to raise responsible human beings along with it.
But there is still hope. The hope is with you and me. Spend time with your children when you have them. Remember their birthdays because you’re happy they were born and not because it is an opportunity to flaunt your money by throwing a party. Buy them what they need, even occasionally what they want; don’t buy them everything. Don’t be embarrassed by their public tantrums and give in to their every demand. When they get their first job, don’t ask about the pay. Instead, pop down to Archie's and buy them a card. Don’t be afraid to hurt their feelings if you’re doing it for their own good. Give them pocket money not blank cheques. And most importantly, remember everything your parents did while raising you that annoyed you the most, and do it. They were the ones trying to salvage the dying breed. So listen to them, learn from them and then perhaps we can rectify the extremism we’re living in.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Based on a True Story
I can’t do it.
I sit in the mall. I probably look like one of those crazy, reclusive types as I peep over my laptop every few seconds, watching the people traffic pass me by. Do you ever have those moments when you’re completely struck with the intricate significance of a human’s life, and yet simultaneously struck by our insignificance in it all? I can narrow in and watch one person. They have a life outside of this moment. They have a history and, presumably, a future. They have loved and they have been hurt and they have a totally different perspective on the world than I do. I wonder what that person could teach me. But then I zoom out again, and the face is lost. We are but one in the sea of humanity. I think it’s another one of those intended paradoxes of life.
The mall is full of gang wars. The cluster of teens coming out of Hot Topic, branded by their gang piercings and tattoos are in a social war with the kids across the street at Aeropostale, marked by their matching gang t-shirts. Their war is one of silence and sneers. Everyone is judged and measured. “Ignore them,” they say about the other. “Nothing good can come out of [Nazareth].”
The thought crosses my mind, “I wonder what we would look like stripped down of our adornments.” I make a face to myself, realizing that idea’s going to need a good explanation behind it. I just mean, how much of our identity is in our physical? A lot. What would happen if we were all lined up, stripped of our branded clothing, our piercings, our haircuts, our makeup, our phones, our cars, all our possessions? Who are you when all of that is gone? I have to admit that I’m not really sure. I’m not really sure. And that disturbs me.
I used to love this. The mall, I mean. I loved the atmosphere. I loved the materialism. I loved the judging. I wouldn’t have named those things as what I loved, but those are the words I ascribe in hindsight. My downfall has always been the material. As I sit here, watching the women walk by with their bags of newly purchased items, I realize I am not alone, and this anger rises within me against the world. The world that I loved. The world of fashion and marketing and beauty. As I sat at the foot court, I metaphorically spat on that world for betraying me. And then I realized that materialism is like sex. (What is up with these metaphors?) By that I mean (like I said in my Liquid Lust blog) it shouldn’t be a god to us, but it also shouldn’t be a demon. Materialism isn’t my enemy; it’s just a tool. I can’t hate it because that’s the easy way out. And that’s not truth seeking.
I don’t know how to approach the world anymore. I mean, in my head I sort of have an idea. It’s about serving people, the least of these. Loving, even when it means self-sacrifice and being obedient to the will of God, even when it means my dreams are shattered. Right now I feel like I’m standing in the midst of a broken window. Because I KNOW these things in my head, but applying them means a complete restructuring of my thoughts and my life.
Duh, right? But I’m good at the material, and I’m not so good at the serving. How do I use my talents to glorify God, then? How do these dreams and desires inside of me equate within the dreams and desires God has for my life? I just know I can’t spend my life perpetuating the cycle of materialism and physical obsession.
I can’t do it.
So now what?
I sit in the mall. I probably look like one of those crazy, reclusive types as I peep over my laptop every few seconds, watching the people traffic pass me by. Do you ever have those moments when you’re completely struck with the intricate significance of a human’s life, and yet simultaneously struck by our insignificance in it all? I can narrow in and watch one person. They have a life outside of this moment. They have a history and, presumably, a future. They have loved and they have been hurt and they have a totally different perspective on the world than I do. I wonder what that person could teach me. But then I zoom out again, and the face is lost. We are but one in the sea of humanity. I think it’s another one of those intended paradoxes of life.
The mall is full of gang wars. The cluster of teens coming out of Hot Topic, branded by their gang piercings and tattoos are in a social war with the kids across the street at Aeropostale, marked by their matching gang t-shirts. Their war is one of silence and sneers. Everyone is judged and measured. “Ignore them,” they say about the other. “Nothing good can come out of [Nazareth].”
The thought crosses my mind, “I wonder what we would look like stripped down of our adornments.” I make a face to myself, realizing that idea’s going to need a good explanation behind it. I just mean, how much of our identity is in our physical? A lot. What would happen if we were all lined up, stripped of our branded clothing, our piercings, our haircuts, our makeup, our phones, our cars, all our possessions? Who are you when all of that is gone? I have to admit that I’m not really sure. I’m not really sure. And that disturbs me.
I used to love this. The mall, I mean. I loved the atmosphere. I loved the materialism. I loved the judging. I wouldn’t have named those things as what I loved, but those are the words I ascribe in hindsight. My downfall has always been the material. As I sit here, watching the women walk by with their bags of newly purchased items, I realize I am not alone, and this anger rises within me against the world. The world that I loved. The world of fashion and marketing and beauty. As I sat at the foot court, I metaphorically spat on that world for betraying me. And then I realized that materialism is like sex. (What is up with these metaphors?) By that I mean (like I said in my Liquid Lust blog) it shouldn’t be a god to us, but it also shouldn’t be a demon. Materialism isn’t my enemy; it’s just a tool. I can’t hate it because that’s the easy way out. And that’s not truth seeking.
I don’t know how to approach the world anymore. I mean, in my head I sort of have an idea. It’s about serving people, the least of these. Loving, even when it means self-sacrifice and being obedient to the will of God, even when it means my dreams are shattered. Right now I feel like I’m standing in the midst of a broken window. Because I KNOW these things in my head, but applying them means a complete restructuring of my thoughts and my life.
Duh, right? But I’m good at the material, and I’m not so good at the serving. How do I use my talents to glorify God, then? How do these dreams and desires inside of me equate within the dreams and desires God has for my life? I just know I can’t spend my life perpetuating the cycle of materialism and physical obsession.
I can’t do it.
So now what?
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