Skipping class in favor of a taste of freedom, picking a prom dress because of the way it transforms you into a princess in the mirror. Not all of them matter, or have any lasting impact. Remember, we are our own griefs, my dear, we are our own happinesses and we are our own remedies. I wish life offers you more time to make use of this power. I, with all my heart and mind, now embrace this power which lies within us. It is us who by feeling joyful, celebrate for a moment of success and it is also us who by feeling saddened, cry and mourn over our losses. Every single one of us has the power to make and shape our own moments. I realised that the power of the moment is not in the moment itself. We live in a world of appearance, Abigail, where the reality lies beyond the appearances, and this is also only what appears to be such powerful when in actuality it is not. Such appears to be the extreme and undisputed power of a single moment.
I then saw how powerful yet weak, bright yet dark, beautiful yet ugly, joyous yet grievous is a one single moment. I waited and I counted each moment of it, thinking about every moment of my life, the good and the bad ones. Hours, days, weeks and months passed and I waited for a moment of magic to happen, a turn of destiny, but nothing happened, nothing ever happens. I travelled to far away lands, running away from friends, family and everyone else and I confined myself to my thoughts, to my feelings and to myself. I no longer saw any meaning of life but then I saw no reason to die as well. My dear, when the moment of my past struck me, in its highest demonised form, I felt dead, like a dead-man walking in flesh without a soul, who had no reason to live any more.
#ONE MOMENT IN TIME LIVE FREE#
A past, which shaped our future into an unknown yet exciting opportunity to revisit the lost thoughts and to break free from the libido of our lost dreams. A past, which changed us and our perception of the world. I decided to share some part of my story, of what led me here, the part we both have had in common. So I thought of something through which I hope you will remember me for a very long time. But that is what all friends do and they only qualify to remain as a part of the bunch of our loosely connected memories and that's not what I can choose to be, I cannot choose to be lost somewhere in your memories. I thought of giving you blessings and wishes for things of great value to happen to you in future I thought of appreciating you for being the way you are I thought to give sweet and lovely compliments for everything about you I thought to write something in praise of your poems and prose and I thought of extending my gratitude for being one of the very few sincerest friends I have ever had. I thought a lot about what I should write to you. “My dearest friend Abigail, These probably could be the last words I write to you and I may not live long enough to see your response but I truly have lived long enough to live forever in the hearts of my friends. So just maybe it is these small silent moments which are the true story-making events of our lives.” And maybe this other life is more important than the one we think of as being real-this clunky day-to-day world of furniture and noise and metal. We would realize that we have been having another life altogether one we didn’t even know was going on inside us.
I thought of this: I thought of how every day each of us experiences a few little moments that have just a bit more resonance than other moments-we hear a word that sticks in our mind-or maybe we have a small experience that pulls us out of ourselves, if only briefly-we share a hotel elevator with a bride in her veils, say, or a stranger gives us a piece of bread to feed to the mallard ducks in the lagoon a small child starts a conversation with us in a Dairy Queen-or we have an episode like the one I had with the M&M cars back at the Husky station.Īnd if we were to collect these small moments in a notebook and save them over a period of months we would see certain trends emerge from our collection-certain voices would emerge that have been trying to speak through us.
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