In a world where darkness grows, how are the little sparks going to grow?
In times when illusions spread, how will Truth fill the rays of morrow?
The growing tree is frozen in thought; unable to stretch its fragile branches further upward into the uncertain, treacherous and cloud-filled sky.
I refuse to believe that there is no hope. I will always believe…
There is. Hope has always been the key for any species to survive, even for those beings that are labelled to only be “instinctual creatures with no reason”. Like the herds have hope to return to the pride lands after the drought has ended, “instinctively” knowing
know believe that spring will come again.
Like us- human beings. Even for those of us who continuously reject
that there is the need for laws and religion to define the goodness within one’s humanity, we all secretly strive to find the right direction that’ll lead us to a harmonious life. We were given the “reason” to deny it, but we know that there must be Hope, just as there must be air, food and means for shelter to survive and grow.
H.O.P.E.- Hope. Some search for it in the declared “idols and stars”of the entertainment industry. And some search for it in the heroic stories that fill our TV and cinema screens…deeply wanting to be a force that could bring some light into the tension-racked times… deeply waiting for that “hero” that would prove us wrong- that sacrifice for the greater good we all dream for, is and will always be worth it.
(The Arrow. One of the current and quoted, “most popular hit-hero TV series of all time”. )
But in an increasingly complex world that’s forgetting the true materiality of “those little things and values”, how do we recognize Hope? How do we find it?
Heroes, even for us “grown-ups in denial,” are stars we constantly pine for especially in our times that are ridden by the revolting facts of escalating wars, fears and a famine that encroaches far more deeply than the lining our stomachs.
I am one of those people, and I have come to terms with it. I realized that it never symbolized an immature side of me…of something I thought I understood to be just that, and thus threw it aside. Instead, cherishing those tales of people who stood out and stood up against the storms of their society and made a difference-may they be history or myth- represented a dream, a goal, a value that I must discover in order that I may truly live before my time . Heroes are the reflection of a forgotten self who is challenging, waking up, and calling out to the child in me that has grown but lost her courage to ask, to question, to learn and to fight for what’s right despite all odds. Heroes had always symbolized an unspoken fire of hope.
As children, the stories of heroes captivate us more than anything when growing up, lighting up the shared spark within each of us that more or less says, “I’m going find out what I love, be good at it and make this world a better place.” It’s as if, the various but singular role of being this vicegerent placed on earth is an inherited trait by all of us, regardless of what country and time.
It sparks when we reach maybe 5 and grows with a fury until elementary. But from there ’til junior high, that fire begins to waver, and by the time we step out from college many of us are drained of all that ardor, just desperate to survive.
Our once dreams then have become a distant fellow we no longer recognize and are welcomed as nothing but immature burdens that should be left on the shelf.
It shouldn’t be that way. It mustn’t be that way…right?
Which reminds me of the story of Maria, someone I know and hold dear…
(to be continued)