The Journey Begins

I am not a woman, but the light that falls on this gate, on this ground. I am the seasons, I think sometimes, January, May, November; the mud, the mist, the dawn. — Virginia Woolf, The Waves

At dusk I find myself chasing the sun, awaiting the moment it returns to me again. One of many sunsets I have caught, still in awe of the others I have yet to witness.

Each day we are given the chance to start anew, the opportunity to right our wrongs, a lifeline to hold onto. How often do we take advantage of the opportunities presented to us? How do I recognise them when they are shown to me? What do I do once I have envisioned them?

These questions linger in my mind after each day, longing to be answered. It is at this point in which I realise that the answers will never be told to me, to you, or to anyone. The answers reveal themselves in inconspicuous ways, often through our own experiences. It is difficult to recognise the opportunities which are presented to us on a daily basis, as we remain blind sighted by the tasks in front of us. No one can undermine the importance of completing the tasks assigned to us in this lifetime. However, it is our responsibility to see beyond what is asked of us.

The life we have constructed for ourselves never allows us to breathe, yet that is the fundamental process keeping us alive. Without breath, we wither back into our organic selves. Deconstructed elements dispersed across the universe, ready to be reformed once again. I am not afraid of death, as it is a finality. But I do not let it influence the choices I make, I am beyond death’s grasp. Life, breath and death are significant in the lives of us all, often being the reason for many storms endured. Knowing this truth, I realise the power I have in doing so. There is strength in acknowledging death’s finality, and there is power in undoing the influence it has on your fate.

It all comes down to choice. I have not been given opportunities, nor would I have wanted to. It is easy to live freely as we were supposed to if these opportunities were laid out to us, however, most of the time that is not the case. I ask myself, how am I not bitter? How do I not remain resentful after all I have endured? It is only then that I understand, how powerful my choices have been. I chose to wake up everyday, irrespective of what happened the day before. I choose to see the lessons in my mistakes. I will continue to choose kindness above hatred and I will make my own opportunities if they are not shown to me.

Only through understanding how each day is an opportunity in itself, we will be able to recognise and acknowledge chance when it is revealed to us. Once understanding has seeped into you, choice becomes important. I choose to believe that I am beyond this physical manifestation of myself, this human vessel which, though suffocating at times, has carried me thus far. The choice in how you respond to life, in all its pain and glory, determines the years to come.

What will you see? What will you choose? And how will you answer?


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