Passing Through

To a biologist, it begins upon conception, the union of the raving sperm cell and the infinitely more poised egg cell. To a writer, it is a seventy-year-long story that has more sad endings than happy ones. And to a wise man, it is one’s existence which moral sometimes cannot be fathomed.

I don’t known what life is to me. The most that I can come up for a definition is a goofy four-word sentence-It’s a bittersweet thang.

It’s a journey to places you never knew existed, or to places you’ve heard about but never been to. There’s a place called Success, which is one of the last destinations you’ll arrive at. You’ll be a frequent visitor to Pain and it’s neighboring country, Sadness.

To some, Confusion and Emptiness are two turfs they oftentimes find themselves dwelling for long periods of time.

But there’s one place where all of us pass by once, twice, or even several times in our lives. Love is a day in Disney Land in your Tokyo trip. It’s a visit to Japan’s angelic geisha’s for American soldiers during the world war. It’s a mid summer affair in Morocco with the person who gives you a ride to the heavens and back.

It’s your boat ride across the moon river with someone whose fingers are locked with yours.

We are all pilgrims to a valley in the middle of nowhere.

Life is a pilgrimage.

It’s a million-mile hi-way where you sometimes travel with many others, at times with just one companion, but most of the time you travel by yourself.

Some of those you meet on the road are amazing people. Your walk with them can be so fun-filled that you give part of yourself as a parting gift when you part ways. To some you give your hand, to others you give your foot. You can even give your butt if you wish.

And there are those to whom you give your heart.

Life is that glass of water. It’s never full to its brim, until the time the person who holds your heart gives his or hers to you.

And the Creator is the only one who can keep your glass from emptying itself again.