My Teary Vision

Early this morning I was doing my usual mailcheck and I received two sets of pictures from someone I don’t know. It touched me so deeply that I sat crying before my computer. It wasn’t the big cry that we give ourselves when things we want didn’t happen or happened in a completely different way, or when the one we love desperately walks away from us or when we face the death of our friends and family.

No, I cried silently, very silently. Drops of tears escaped reluctantly and streamed down my cheeks. Before I knew it was torrents and I was sniffing quietly. I started to type anyway, through the hazy vision of my teary eyes. Tell me, won’t you after you see these…?

We have so much to be thankful for and yet we find so many faults, we mourn and bitch and grumble and say acrimonious things to people who are humble and kind. We celebrate the wrong things and shun the good stuff. We are so busy perfecting ourselves in an image which becomes more irrelevant with each passing day. As Longfellow said - in our march towards death, for thats where we are all headed. Yet why don't we find the time to engage in doing something for a single soul who really and truly needs a single stroke of effort from us...... *sigh*.

Perhaps its the morning hour that makes me all preachy. I am, afterall for all purposes of right and wrong, a part of this world gone blase' ....... insensitive and spoilt.

It is true, I sit in the comfort of my warm study and wish that I could look every inch like Cindy Crawford... that I can spend my time reading the great literary works of all times and become a great writer... that my children will become successful with good careers and better homes and happy families. These are not wrong and wishing and wanting them makes me the average good person. I am sure of it, like I am sure of the mountain ridge which I can see every morning when I go for my walk. That magnificent chipped edge of the mountain which forms the bulwark of the Klang Gates dam.

But I want to champion causes too. Causes that I can be proud of in the quietness of my room, not in the adulation of others. And I want my friends in on it too. It is also true that I don’t have to worry where my next bowl of rice is coming from but if I look at these pictures and something inside me doesn’t resonate than I am more dead than the dead. I am sure of that too.