40 years of wilderness

there is no collective goal.

no 40 years of wilderness.

in my line of work, with relentless unruly growing cells, or unplanned destruction,

40 days 40 hours. 40 nothing.

 

with a different understanding scales to measure life and time as we know it,

calculations based on how much time, energy, effort, and where the promises and promised lands are, naturally spin off a different trajectory.

pressed on, we press harder back. we hit rocks for water. we use sticks. bones.

stopping only when we see blood. sometimes, not even then.

 

confrontation. conformity. common. carry on. collectively.

we risk much.. so much. too much. we invest. our minds. our mights. our hearts.

towards gradings, whose results are taken as law. absolute reflection of understanding. potentials. progress. what you did. can be. who you are. who you will be.

socially politically correct terms of

“exploration of interests” “exposure for development” “enhanced learning”

we laud missionaries musicians who inspire and influence life. sacrifice their potentials and save others instead of themselves.

yet we love grades that implies positioning within the spectrum of material successes. or the creme of creme. be on the peak of maslow’s pyramid. be the light. that everyone sees. that people MUST see.

the tree that falls silently in the forest. does it matter.

grades that are not ranked. does it matter. what if there is no bell curve. truly. will it become more meaningful? from growth. to mind. to work. to days and lives. we plot. everywhere. everything. and still, more data they say. as sparkles and sprinkles disappears from the charts graphs and lines. life will be better the footnotes insists.

 

how do we seek meaningful lives

we hear this a patient’s bedsides. at children’s playgounds. at bedtimes as we log off.

from notes.. left behind.

then we thumbsup posts, add hearts. give smily faces. in between breaks on our races.

there is no collective goodness. not in 40 years. not then. not now. not for them. not for us.

 

and then.. we find a book. by a boy who dreamt about it. thought about it. and writes it when boy become man. who grades dreams. who values it. value, the way children do, dreams by dreamers. people who live their lives living.

and the spark of the universe within us, recognise these people. these moments.

light in darkness. which speaks to our blindness, deafness and deaden touch.

 

“how was school today”

i made a friend. and we rushed and ran everywhere.

that. is meaning enough for my child. and i. for today.