Redeeming Oneself
Could it be a common fate among all the living to live up to a point in time, regardless of its day or age, to ponder the clichĂŠ question of 'what's the meaning of life'? Is that common in us, or was that thought just so brilliant that it's being fed repeatedly into the minds of every generation, hence validating its importance? Am I arguing about its significance? No, just a mere brush-off the shoulder in lieu of how boring it is to ask that these days. As my favourite answer to that age-old question is simply: 'Death, that's what brings meaning to life.'
Crafting this second paragraph with the intention of bringing somewhat of an extension to the original question, or perhaps to suggest an addition to the many types of meanings one could bring about in their life. My ego would want this to be an original thought, uniquely poured into words, but deep down I know better than to be too proud of this. At some point, I melancholically wish or hope for this entry to be [1] the start of a change or shift in my grasp of reality or paradigm and [2] serve as a legitimate form to the myth (of the existence) of any sort of closure.
One shouldn't be aimless; time is sacred and invaluable. In spite of that, I'd like to believe the horrific concept of a 'hit and run' style of living is a bloody irresponsible way to go through this life. For one to just run on their impulses, lacking the requirement of a second opinion, that YOLO mantra, the damage that it causes in its path. If I may vent, it's been such a long, enduring journey to get here. The exhaustion of getting to a spot where others get right up from the startâmust life be unfair and difficult in order to sprout meaning? I never thought I'd get tired of undoing the damage done by others; that's all I'm saying.
As much as I am inflicted, justice for this matter is unattainable. The damage is severe; I don't think any amount of 'Sorry' or any amount of anything for that matter is able to reverse time. So what is it then? What is it that you need? Not to feel better, but to eclipse the hurt, the wrong, the mistake, the damage god damn it. Now (present day), this is where I shifted on my faults, the wrongs I did, the damage I'm accountable for. This was when it spoke to me, I suppose; within me, it echoed: 'Redemption.'
Nobility simply had no room in this; it isn't for the fame; it's most likely aimed at achieving forgiveness. However, the core of the message here is to ultimately redeem oneself: that soul-fulfilling finish line. As much as guts lead to glory, one could never truly earn forgiveness from others due to the ongoing illusion of being able to forgive anyone. Read that again, slowly. 'Sorry,' whether spoken quickly and lightly or deeply heartfelt and agonizing, is just an invitation, after all, to move past the unhinged, together. Whether or not you're in for the ride, your choice to stay put is always not where the aggressor expects you to be.
As these sentences take form, the road of redemption seems to appear out of thin air, in a dark, misty surrounding fog I've been in all this while; brick by brick, it lays a path. As I take these barefoot steps forward, I'm glad that it appears. It answers to a certain state of loss I've been in; I see no reason to hurt now, much less to hate. Hereby committing to making every breath count by speaking more kindly, viewing more compassionately, acting with purpose and responding truthfully. But most important of all, to grow so big it overshadows the old, small, faulty version of my lacking, blind, naive former self.