The quest for the right track is pointless. It’s an invention of mankind to structure what can not be structured. Roads have no meaning in the desert. A person will never walk the same path twice, for sand and wind will have mastered any illusion of directions. And you never find a stick to lean upon when you need one.
Certain events eventually turn out to have been the “last time” they occurred, but you don't always realize that when they happen. You shake a person’s hand and never see him again. You go to your favorite restaurant and it closes down weeks thereafter. You run a marathon. A mother has her first baby. These farewells are easiest to deal with, for they revel in ignorance and lack expectations about what’s coming up.
Sometimes, however, we are very well aware that it’s the “last time” we do something. The last day of secondary school, for instance. Driving home the day before you move out to another place. This awareness makes us live these moments more intensely, as wanting to savour an expensive delicacy on our plate. They are not too hard to handle either though’ Sure, it's hard to be neutral or indifferent towards them, since they bring a certain period in your life to a close, and this may fill you with either joy or sadness. But there’s time in advance to anticipate that things will be different afterwards, and this enables you to be prepared.
The hardest part, no doubt, are those occasions where you intuitively sense that it could very well be the "last time" they ever take place, without totally being sure. There’s no way to possibly deal with these thoughts in a serene manner. Some smile, some stay silent, some pray if they believe in a God, some fill their glass of wine once more if they don’t. There’s no single answer for questions that have yet to be raised.
How dare you miss the past if you haven’t seen the future? Why are we afraid of change, if it has been our most loyal companion ever since we were born? It follows us like a shadow, it fits us like a skin fits a body, firm and tight. By holding on, we hold back.
Certain events eventually turn out to have been the “last time” they occurred, but you don't always realize that when they happen. You shake a person’s hand and never see him again. You go to your favorite restaurant and it closes down weeks thereafter. You run a marathon. A mother has her first baby. These farewells are easiest to deal with, for they revel in ignorance and lack expectations about what’s coming up.
Sometimes, however, we are very well aware that it’s the “last time” we do something. The last day of secondary school, for instance. Driving home the day before you move out to another place. This awareness makes us live these moments more intensely, as wanting to savour an expensive delicacy on our plate. They are not too hard to handle either though’ Sure, it's hard to be neutral or indifferent towards them, since they bring a certain period in your life to a close, and this may fill you with either joy or sadness. But there’s time in advance to anticipate that things will be different afterwards, and this enables you to be prepared.
The hardest part, no doubt, are those occasions where you intuitively sense that it could very well be the "last time" they ever take place, without totally being sure. There’s no way to possibly deal with these thoughts in a serene manner. Some smile, some stay silent, some pray if they believe in a God, some fill their glass of wine once more if they don’t. There’s no single answer for questions that have yet to be raised.
How dare you miss the past if you haven’t seen the future? Why are we afraid of change, if it has been our most loyal companion ever since we were born? It follows us like a shadow, it fits us like a skin fits a body, firm and tight. By holding on, we hold back.
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