the pursuing, the busy and the tired.”
To begin again, or perhaps to find a graceful end–isn’t this what so many desire? The possibility to erase our mistakes, to free ourselves from regret, to return to the things that once gave us pleasure, or even to take the chance to do the things we once thought reckless?
Like a good book, we do not want to conceive of the end, yet we yearn for a conclusion: one that provides answers for the questions that have arisen along the way.
What if we were to give up on the notions of beginnings and endings? What if there were only the process of moving through our experiences? What if there were only this moment, continuous?
The young woman who wishes to become more than she is, but does not understand that she is already so very much. The young man who sees a handsome face reflected in the mirror, and believes it is his only tool by which to carve out a life, but does not realize that this is done through authentic relationships.
The woman nearing middle age who frightens herself with each new line on her face, peels away her skin in efforts to reach juvenescence, but does not see the lessons of self-loathing that she is teaching to her daughter. The man who sees himself only through the youth of a woman, and fails to recognize that he is simply a mockery of all that he could never be.
The old woman who mutters in disgust at the teenage girl wearing a miniskirt, while staring through eyes encased in heavy mascara and sneering lips painted an embolden red. The old man who calls to young girls as they pass by, ignoring the fact that he could be their grandparent.
For what do we yearn? Is it merely to be seen and to have seen? Is it merely to remember and not be forgotten?
We are pursued by the dreams that we built so very long ago for ourselves. Dreams that sometimes mock us, or give us courage, or simply remind us that we are not yet dead.
We cut our way through life, carving out paths by which we can continue pursuing our dreams or someone else’s–perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter which.
We keep ourselves busy, moving, get through our time here…until we are tired, and we yearn no more.
These days have been filled…too filled, but rewardingly so. I am glad to return to my blog. I thank everyone who has taken the time out to visit me, especially during the times when I have not written. Thank you again.
Until Next Time.
- Today’s Birthday: F. SCOTT FITZGERALD (1896) (euzicasa.wordpress.com)