Fallen Leaves: Of Time and Memories

Lord, said David, since you do not need us,
why did you create these two worlds?

Reality replied: O prisoner of time,
I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity,
and I wished this treasure to be known,
so I created a mirror: its shining face, the heart;
its darkened back, the world;
The back would please you if you’ve never seen the face.

Has anyone ever produced a mirror out of mud and straw?
Yet clean away the mud and straw,
and a mirror might be revealed.

Until the juice ferments a while in the cask,
it isn’t wine. If you wish your heart to be bright,
you must do a little work.

My King addressed the soul of my flesh:
You return just as you left.
Where are the traces of my gifts?

-snippet from Be Lost in the Call, Rumi

“I’m so sad….How can I be happy?” my dear friend asked.

“Remember the good things that has happened despite the bad,” was my reply.

It must be prospect of a huge challenge that kept me in spirits of anticipation. Maybe the coffee too.

My friend let out another sad sigh. “Memories. It all just ends up in memories.”

I don’t know what hit me, but my body flew into action. No.

“Memories are carried on to create anew. They aren’t the end,” was all I could say in that moment, collecting myself as my mother’s words days ago began to sink into me.

My mother had called our attention that late afternoon, as she segregated the peelings and cuttings of various fruits and vegetables that she prepared. She was very enthusiastic and commanded our attention.

She said she was just astounded how much learning about permaculture and composting has taught her so much.

“Can you imagine? We eat these fruits and vegetables. Then we return them to the soil. And from the plants that grow from the soil, we eat. We put them back inside our bodies. What we give the soil, it gives us back. But nowadays, most  of us plant for the sake of a huge harvest or money, using chemicals forgetting that we eat what we harvest. It made me think about life. What does that tell you two? Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

I guiltily remember how I was slow to catch on the depth of what she was trying to say.

We are prisoners of time.

The moments of happiness, the moments of sadness pass by us. Time does not stay still. They leave us but not without leaving a mark on us, in form of memories. And with Time, even these memories become cloudy until, most, fade into nothingness.

But do they really?

A leaf, full of color once, dries up and falls to the ground. Time passes, there’s no more of the leaf. All that is left is the soil or dust. If we think of it that way, then surely…it is all for naught…depressing.

But! But! It doesn’t happen that way!

The “dead leaves” along with another “depressing” thing called rain,  actually nurture life into the soil. They are, with proper care in special cases like in cities (for example), what bear the healthy ground that is healthy enough for new plants to spring. And with a extra effort, those new plants can even be healthier than the “plants or leaves that came before them.”

 

Just like memories.

5678517-Autumnal-texture-fallen-leaves-Stock-Photo

G.T.

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Digging…and dreams.

Image(In the name of GOD, Most Gracious, Most Merciful…)

The first stage even have a goodly tree grow is to dig its plot, where you want to grow that tree…

A lot of thoughts come rushing in just by thinking that fact…hehehe.

Maybe there can never be too many lessons one can learn from a tree. Hmm…

And in youth today, the seedlings of the future…where are they planted? Are they even (planted)?

It’s something I’ve been trying to write about in this book, or whatever it may come out of it.

I’m still digging…or probably still searching for the good place to put my plot.

If any youth finds and reads this, can I ask? Is there something or somewhere you know you want to go to? A dream? A primary life goal?

For those much mature than us, “grown-ups” as they say- are you happy in the way you’ve grown up to? Or are you still growing? Are you happy the way you’re growing?

Oh, i still have classes…got to go. 🙂

I only hope this wasn’t a thorny, melancholic post. 😀

Perhaps, join me in searching for a good plot? 😀

Peace.

The Small Girl, Fatahat Saghira