Making peace with the past

"Here" was inspired by somehow a conversation with someone and my own myopic but long standing problems.

I was at the bridge once where choices about whether I should continue living in the past, giving up all that it is or venture into the future which is full of uncertainties.

I wouldn't lie. Thoughts of taking my own life did cross my mind once. It was deplorable and a strong blasphemy to what I believe in, to everything I ever stood for and to all who believed in me. If I were at the courts in the heavenly realms, I could picture His disappointment and sadness over what I had done. And I'm ashamed about it.

You see, the past makes a good enemy but at the same time a good friend. It depends on what your past is and how you wish to remember it.

All my life though, whether I'd like to admit or not, living within the past was what I've been doing. I'd choose to blame what is happening in the now to what had happened in the past. I know it's stupid and by all means, sickening to always moan and groan about it.

When those thoughts were slowly persuading me, the question popped into my mind.

"Who are you?"

or rather, "Who am I?"

I think it's somewhat a mantra now. That I believe, behind every smile is a sad tale.

I think I've beaten up myself and God, for that matter, to the point where pain is not the sensation anymore.

He reminded me though, that it didn't mattered how bad or good I've journeyed in my life up until this point. It did matter however, how I would want to continue my journey afterwards.

The past, when it serves its purpose right, would be the best reminder, challenger, and teacher.

There isn't much good in my past but there were very memorable moments too. I cannot simply throw or hide them away in some corner because... ultimately... they are a part of me. They made me who I am today.

I made myself promise that I wouldn't let it be my obstacle or excuse anymore. Instead I'll acknowledge it. That it made me into a better person and I just thank God for all that happened.

After all, we can only understand life better when we understand what happened in the past.

So who am I?

I am just a person with weak moments. But that doesn't mean I am fundamentally weak. Rather I'm just fundamentally human.

I am just a person relying on His strength and grace to continue hoping and pursuing for a better tomorrow.

I am just a person who made peace with my past.

I am just a person who at the end of my journey will hope to hear, "Well done My son" from Daddy above.

Here

And suddenly I appeared at this bridge, suspending from heights I've never seen before in my life.

I looked down, which was most probably the stupidest thing to do. I gulped and my feet trembled. I lost balance in my body. I took a step back, hitting the edge of the sad ropes still holding, this precariously dangling bridge. It wobbled.

It wobbled hard.

Being at the middle of bridge did not help at all. I went down on all fours. I kept my head buried between my arms, hoping it would stop... Hoping that I could just get out of this wretched place.

"STOP!" in fear, I wailed.

Then, a tap on the shoulder. I jumped a little and turned sharply, landing on my bottom. The bridge wobbled more angrily now.

"Relax," said he, while holding on to the ropes which seemingly calmed the bridge from its rage.

He was about the same height as me. He wore ragged clothes with his beard and mustache, unshaven for God knows how long. His sleeves were visibly torn by somehow I think an act of rage. His arms were tired and charred. My eyes shifted to his feet and they were littered with bruises and wounds.

My eyes met his. They were so... forlorn. His face said nothing but of age.

Then he gave a smile and said, "Hello."

I could only nod back in acknowledgement. Silence engulfed us before a breeze slightly pushed the bridge. I tried to keep my footing. The planks of the bridge looked unreliable.

"You won't fall. At least not yet," he said.

"What do you mean 'not yet'? Am I supposed to jump off this?" rage slowly filled me.

"Only if you make that choice," came the drab reply.

I looked around. There were no skies, no trees, no end to the bridge that we were standing on. I could not see the sun, yet there is light. And the only feasible conclusion I could think of was that I was stuck in a dream.

"Dream? You're not in a dream," he said, reading my thoughts. Shocked, but no words came from my mouth. It was numb to even murmur words.

"You're nowhere near a dream. You're beyond that," his voice, dull and lifeless as ever.

"Then... Where am I?" I asked.

He stayed silent for a moment. It killed me.

"The more important question is, who are you?" he answered.

"I am... Dan... I am Dan... I am Dan!" I replied in desperation.

But my reply is met with his cold eyes. He took a step forward with fists clutched.

"No. I didn't ask for your name. I asked, Who ARE you?" he pushed on. Just then, the plank I was standing on gave way. I jumped back, perhaps landing too hard, making a few more planks to fall.

I stood frozen, now afraid of making another dramatic move.

"Look behind you," he said.

I glanced a little, worried about falling off this wretched bridge.

"I said look," he raised his voice. I gulped a little and slowly turned.

More broken planks and ropes slowly loosening greeted me. Now though, I could clearly see what was at the end of the bridge. I cannot make out if it is a forest because it looked too sad to be one. The trees were bare. There were no sounds of life coming from it. I noticed a really broad path but it wasn't one I'd like to travel in.

His hand met my shoulder. It was a strong grip, yet warm.

"This is you," he said, pointing to the forest.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look carefully. This is the path you travelled up 'til now," he answered.

"You mean, I've been walking up until here all this while? But I don't..." I tried to reason.

"You have and had. You didn't took notice. Like how you didn't know who I am and how much you are hurting me," he interrupted.

"I don't..."

"You don't have understand. I just need you to make a choice."

"What choice?"

He pointed to the other side and to the forest.

"Choose."

I looked to the other side but I couldn't see anything. The light stopped short of shining that place.

"What is over there?" I asked.

"That is for you to discover," came the cliched reply.

I took deep breaths. I looked at my options. At one side, I had the luxury of knowing what is there but it is full of desolation. At the other end, I would be travelling into the unknown. I ponder if there were other ways to do this.

"There is another way," he finally said, reading my mind yet again. I turned to him, confused.

He pointed downwards.

"Jumping off this??" I exclaimed. He merely nodded, much to my frustration.

"That would mean you have given up," he answered dryly.

"On what?"

"On your journey."

I scratched my head furiously. I have no idea what is going on. I hated that I didn't have a sense of control over this.

"Where am I?" I demanded.

"Who are you?" he answered with this dreaded question.

"WHERE AM I?" I yelled.

"Who are you?" he said again.

I took the scruff of his neck. With rage I punched him repeatedly. Blow after blow, to the face, then to the abdomen until he could not stand anymore. He fell.

"ANSWER ME!" as I watched him lying fetal, rubbing his chest, hugging himself into the pain.

He wiped blood off his mouth and gave away a weak chuckle.

"You have hurt me before. This meant little."

I unclenched  my fists. My rage somehow subsided. I knelt down by his side.

"Who are you..?"

"Don't you already know?" he looked into my eyes again. They were brown but was warm now. They breathed life.

"You are..."

The realization hit me like a brick. I sat down in disbelief. I was not in a dream. The last thing I remembered was...

"Dan, it is now or never," he said, while trying to find his feet again. He offered his hand as he stood up, balanced and assured. I looked at his hand. They were rough and full of stories.

"It doesn't matter how bad you've walked until here. Your past will give you valuable lessons. And I understand the pain more than anyone else would," he said, still offering his hand. I took it and he pulled me up.

"But I need you to know that, here is where people make their choice. Whether to be stuck there..." he pointed to the forest and continued, "to be lost and desolated... Or they choose to jump down, giving up on everything," he ended abruptly.

He smiled weakly.

"They could... choose to travel into the unknown. They won't know what it brings but... It is a path yet to be taken," he paused before continuing, "and it's one you can still shape. And one day you'll see the light in it."

A long pause.

"I'll ask you again, Dan. Who are you?"

Then he vanished.

************************************************

The moment I awaken, white, bright and sharp lights burnt my eyes. I slowly gathered myself, squinting and feeling my way around. My chest hurt as so did my head. I tried sticking my feet to the ground to stand but I lost my balance.

I fell to the ground. Hard. I groaned in pain. Using the bed as support, I tried climbing back to my feet.

The nurse gasped as she entered the room and quickly rushed to my aid. She sat me down.

"Young man, just exactly what were you trying to do?" the nurse asked sternly.

I managed to give her a weak smile. She shook her head and quickly pressed the call button.

"I'm just glad that you're awake now. The doctor will be here in a minute and things will be fine," she said reassuringly, patting my shoulder as she finished her sentence.

"How long have I been here?" I asked meekly.

"Long enough to forget who you are," she said with a chuckle.

I grinned. 

I'd like to believe I know who I really am now.

I am....

Flattering to Deceive

In many ways, humans have a tendency to deceive themselves and others. At the core; who they really are, is but to be shielded and kept in a safe. It is to be hidden from view and sight, even those from trusted ones.

The world has become such an unsafe place, not just for the physical world but to the emotional side as well. Many things are built on deceit and distrust. It makes people tightened up, to develop a defensive mechanism to protect oneself from being hurt.

How often has a heart opened up to a seemingly trustable person, only to end up being broken, trampled and thrown to the dirt? How often has others do this to us and us to others?

The only feasible defensive mechanism therefore is by flattering to deceive; to portray ourselves as being strong, cold and mechanic, that nothing shall in any way move us or threaten us. In short, we wear masks to protect our vulnerabilities.

Yet, one who has many masks is one who needs assurance the most.

But assurance only comes when the heart is willing to trust. Irony, is it not?

We forget we have limits. And limits will be broken when too much is stored. The heart, denotatively never stores blood. It beats, approximately 72 times a minute, to make about 5 litres of blood flow. And so, the heart, connotatively, can only store up so much before it has to let go, to pump, to make things flow again, else we be in stagnation. In essence, it's never meant to store things. It keeps you alive, reminds you of who you really are.

Some secrets, we want it to be kept. Some parts of us, we want it kept hidden. Some sides of us, we wear masks to protect such vulnerabilities. But the same question begs the answer for all three: for how long?

                                            ************************************

David says:

"For I am poor and needy, And my heart is wounded within me"

-Psalm 109:22-

But Jesus says:

"Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."
-John 14:27-

Candle

Life is as fickle as a candle sometimes.

Like a candle, we flatter to deceive, especially in a dark room. We give ourselves hope, some light to see and yet at the smallest hint of breeze or wind, our flame fickle.  A stronger gush of wind would instantly kill the light. At times, we are like that; fickle-minded creatures. We vow to be strong, to be a light in the darkness, to change and to grow but how often had we let people (and ourselves) down because of the smallest sign of trouble and distress?

I really like Shakespear's "Life's Brief Candle". While it preaches pessimism and gives not even the slightest hint of hope in it, I think there's another way to look at it.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
How long more must we fool ourselves in the shadows?
At the hint of gust, at the hint of trouble
How our flame fickle, our wax trickle,
Life is but a brief candle
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
How long more can we hope to light our tomorrows? 

Life would be littered with regrets because we are not perfect. But then we learn from them and try to be the better man in days to come. Our tomorrows may not be many and are numbered but as the countdown continues, it is only up to us to make those times here worthwhile.