By. Dr. Susan Lucas
Somewhere off in the distance, someone is searching for his identity under a pebble, under a grain of salt, under a sand dune, inside of a wet marsh where light gets trapped but never escapes. Somewhere off in the distance there is a boy who has yet to figure out his mission in life, to finally understand why he is the way he is. In his dreams, he is a dying Icarus who constantly falls from the sky under a pair of melted feathers. It is a constant visual, a mathematical equation that has yet to be flawed, it is time, it is eternal. Sometimes in her waking moments, a girl scratches the horizon with her fingernail in hopes of discovering something so beautiful beyond what the eye can see that it may perhaps lift her from all the confusion life has to offer her and give her the clarity she has desired all of her life. There is a question on everybody’s mind, the question which books are written of and movies are scripted on. It is a question that has come in many forms throughout the history of mankind.
Eve took the apple in hopes of finding more, and the answer was not delivered. Alice went through her Wonderland, and she herself did not get a tangible answer. Time and time again, in the wildest of dreams we have ventured into the far unknown to ask, and it was at the moments we received no clear response that we learned that black holes do exist. So we asked, and we asked, and we asked, and we begged and we begged, and we pleaded, and we screamed for an answer, but we got none.
Rather, we learned that God is cruel, wicked, and a gambler, because the question all along was, “Who am I?”. So we searched in locked corridors, we looked under grains of salt, we ran our fingers across the horizon hoping that the scratches would tear a hole in the sky allowing rain to fall back into our world- a rain that would bring I back home to us. Holding the Bhagavad Gita near and dear to our hearts, we heard the words of Krishna when he proclaimed that we fulfil our duty, our destiny, our mission. And we screamed back to Krishna, “How can we fulfil our duty if we know not who we are, what our mission is, or why we exist?”. No response. We learned that God is a gambler who plays dice. He creates at will, and he has no reason other than to play around. He gave us sadness, and then he made sure the emotion worked properly by assigning us tears to fall from our eyes to signify the life of the feeling. All around we looked, high and low, near and far, on top of balconies, under our covers, and we still could not God. We still could not find who we are. So, we looked toward humanity for an answer. We looked for peace within our friends, our lovers, our drugs, our addictions, and we found an answer that could suffice: power, the greatest corruption of all. Eventually, to our great surprise, the answer came to us in the strangest of ways, in the strangest of places- we found ourselves....inside of ourselves.
Larvae
They say there is a huge collision of gasses before a star is a born. In one catastrophic smattering of different colours, lights, wavelengths, and elements, a bright firefly begins the first day of its life in the giant black canopy above. Such a collision makes us wonder if the star has its own song...a star song. Does it hum, does it hymn, does it whistle, does it sing? There is a certainty that strikes us, a certain kind of calmness, when we look up into the universe and point our fingers into the directly of a star that will never leave its place. It is almost as if this piece of the universe will always be there to serve as the part of a constellation that forms the very structure of our lives.
On the corner of every street, we see a sign indicating the name of that street. And this name will be enough of an identity for the street for as long as it exists. 50 states represent the land we belong to, and each shape has its own name. Every single direction we look, there is a name that belongs to something. As humans, we give things titles. Wood on water is a ship. Black is black. White is white. A box with light is called a light bulb. And then, there is us. We have been assigned the title human, and we have been assigned a name at birth. But, aren’t we greater than just a name, just a title? Aren’t we unique, aren’t we different? At birth, we are larvae, barely distinguishable form other babies. We grow, and we see our reflections, and we learn that we are beautiful, we are different, we are unique, and that we could never be a part of a constellation because of our irregular shape which makes us something unlike any other human to have ever existed. We barely know language, yet we hear strange words from beings we shall soon call our parents. “You are going to be a doctor one day! A lawyer perhaps, a teacher, a pharmacist, a scientist, an athlete, maybe even president!” We smile at the happiness they feel when they proclaim who we are to be in life. Still lost, still confused, our heads bobble as we are helplessly fed because of our dependency for survival.
Eve took the apple in hopes of finding more, and the answer was not delivered. Alice went through her Wonderland, and she herself did not get a tangible answer. Time and time again, in the wildest of dreams we have ventured into the far unknown to ask, and it was at the moments we received no clear response that we learned that black holes do exist. So we asked, and we asked, and we asked, and we begged and we begged, and we pleaded, and we screamed for an answer, but we got none.
Rather, we learned that God is cruel, wicked, and a gambler, because the question all along was, “Who am I?”. So we searched in locked corridors, we looked under grains of salt, we ran our fingers across the horizon hoping that the scratches would tear a hole in the sky allowing rain to fall back into our world- a rain that would bring I back home to us. Holding the Bhagavad Gita near and dear to our hearts, we heard the words of Krishna when he proclaimed that we fulfil our duty, our destiny, our mission. And we screamed back to Krishna, “How can we fulfil our duty if we know not who we are, what our mission is, or why we exist?”. No response. We learned that God is a gambler who plays dice. He creates at will, and he has no reason other than to play around. He gave us sadness, and then he made sure the emotion worked properly by assigning us tears to fall from our eyes to signify the life of the feeling. All around we looked, high and low, near and far, on top of balconies, under our covers, and we still could not God. We still could not find who we are. So, we looked toward humanity for an answer. We looked for peace within our friends, our lovers, our drugs, our addictions, and we found an answer that could suffice: power, the greatest corruption of all. Eventually, to our great surprise, the answer came to us in the strangest of ways, in the strangest of places- we found ourselves....inside of ourselves.
Larvae
They say there is a huge collision of gasses before a star is a born. In one catastrophic smattering of different colours, lights, wavelengths, and elements, a bright firefly begins the first day of its life in the giant black canopy above. Such a collision makes us wonder if the star has its own song...a star song. Does it hum, does it hymn, does it whistle, does it sing? There is a certainty that strikes us, a certain kind of calmness, when we look up into the universe and point our fingers into the directly of a star that will never leave its place. It is almost as if this piece of the universe will always be there to serve as the part of a constellation that forms the very structure of our lives.
On the corner of every street, we see a sign indicating the name of that street. And this name will be enough of an identity for the street for as long as it exists. 50 states represent the land we belong to, and each shape has its own name. Every single direction we look, there is a name that belongs to something. As humans, we give things titles. Wood on water is a ship. Black is black. White is white. A box with light is called a light bulb. And then, there is us. We have been assigned the title human, and we have been assigned a name at birth. But, aren’t we greater than just a name, just a title? Aren’t we unique, aren’t we different? At birth, we are larvae, barely distinguishable form other babies. We grow, and we see our reflections, and we learn that we are beautiful, we are different, we are unique, and that we could never be a part of a constellation because of our irregular shape which makes us something unlike any other human to have ever existed. We barely know language, yet we hear strange words from beings we shall soon call our parents. “You are going to be a doctor one day! A lawyer perhaps, a teacher, a pharmacist, a scientist, an athlete, maybe even president!” We smile at the happiness they feel when they proclaim who we are to be in life. Still lost, still confused, our heads bobble as we are helplessly fed because of our dependency for survival.
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