Time

By Ghina Fakhri

It took them thousands of years to invent a wheel, another bunch of them to progress to a car, and now mankind, in weeks, reached the moon. Now that our world is shifting swiftly, so swiftly that if you ever thought to pause a moment, take a deep breath, and consider the implications of the speed of the world... you are quickly forgotten with respect to what the whole world had achieved during your absence. 

I have learned that time is precious, very. You would think that you’re doing this hard work, studying, cleaning, tutoring, reading and whatever. Then you’d get crave this moment of real sleep, you'd convince yourself that you’re a hero and you achieved “something”. You, then, kick the guilt away in a failing attempt to encourage yourself and eventually what do you do? 

Do you call eating little amount of food, instead of much, a sacrifice? Or would you call having only a few hours of sleep, hard work? If so, then how would you describe the situation of people who couldn’t eat for days because they couldn't lose time while working on some invention or a theory? And how would you just describe those who sleep once a week because they   want to make use of the time they have, knowing that the eternal sleep could attack them at any point? 

Today, our steps are reduced to wavelengths and frequencies, and yet we feel depressed, scared, and lonely. Now, we even feel defeated more than any time in our own human history and we don't really know why. Have we ever dug beneath what lies beyond our eyes? And have we ever wanted to compete with experts in their field rather rather than staying 'within our bubble'? We still lie on the bed feeling tired and exhausted, blaming and cursing everyone who wants our own good…

Get real, this is you, and here is where you live. And these are your friends and family. And now what? Are you a backstabber, one who lets down all of his dreams? Would you want to be a quitter, when at the same time someone else is working like a machine in order to make the world a better place? It’s true that your family members wait for you to get downstairs and have dinner with them, but the world outside will never, ever, wait for you to wake up from your shallow dreams.

At the other end of the world, lies a man, an old man. His house is a broken wooden hut, crushed to an extent that you would feel ashamed if you knew the person living inside. Yes, they laughed at him, and he had become a station of mockery for years. But that old man kept in his small corner with books in his hands, with a stomach that refused food, and a mind that chased the fear and laziness away. That was his moment to shine and he shocked the world with proofs of impossible facts they have dreamt of happening. He was like a virus, feeding on himself and not only food, but supplies from his brain and soul. The soul exists, it isn’t a fantasy nor is it materialistic. Our attempts to indirectly lower its intensity will soon destroy us.

Nowadays, you cannot buy time and you cannot pause it by any sort of picture or tape. Do not accept your situation, always long to change it to what you desire, to what you thought would never happen. If you’re not the one in charge of your life, who in the world is, then?