As we grow older, our thinking begins to fade -- we had never expected it would be so. It seems as if life before us is playing itself out on some 3D screen. It's a movie and we have no part in it.
But there is this person inside, the one watching. What of him? When the only thing you feel are the discomforts arising from little tasks, yet to be done. Proddings, they seem from nature. Somehow it doesn't seem acceptable. You know you can think, not just in the way you used to. These too are your own thoughts, after all, the ones about your isolation.
You've heard, also seen, the elderly when you were yourself growing up, spend their time in some serene way. Not troubled by this emptiness bothering you now. What is it that was on their minds, you find yourself wondering? Why cannot it happen with you as well. Faith. That's what it was mostly about, they said. Why do you not have faith, you wonder ?
Faith seems like some candle-flame. Each person with his own little light. Some burning brighter than others. It's when they come together, and each lets his own light shine, no one can tell how much of their own is causing the brightness, bathing them all. For the time, it is their own light illuminating everything.
I sit now in the dim circle of my flame. Darkness presses around me overpoweringly. I recognize those whose minds too must have lost its vigor like mine. We look wistfully at the younger ones, doing meaningful things, a despair comes upon us. Of a life, we missed out on perhaps ?
Peering into the darkness beyond. Resolutely steeling ourselves, we know that is where the direction lies. It would help so much, if we were to occasionally acknowledge each other.
But there is this person inside, the one watching. What of him? When the only thing you feel are the discomforts arising from little tasks, yet to be done. Proddings, they seem from nature. Somehow it doesn't seem acceptable. You know you can think, not just in the way you used to. These too are your own thoughts, after all, the ones about your isolation.
You've heard, also seen, the elderly when you were yourself growing up, spend their time in some serene way. Not troubled by this emptiness bothering you now. What is it that was on their minds, you find yourself wondering? Why cannot it happen with you as well. Faith. That's what it was mostly about, they said. Why do you not have faith, you wonder ?
Faith seems like some candle-flame. Each person with his own little light. Some burning brighter than others. It's when they come together, and each lets his own light shine, no one can tell how much of their own is causing the brightness, bathing them all. For the time, it is their own light illuminating everything.
I sit now in the dim circle of my flame. Darkness presses around me overpoweringly. I recognize those whose minds too must have lost its vigor like mine. We look wistfully at the younger ones, doing meaningful things, a despair comes upon us. Of a life, we missed out on perhaps ?
Peering into the darkness beyond. Resolutely steeling ourselves, we know that is where the direction lies. It would help so much, if we were to occasionally acknowledge each other.