I am always thinking about the purpose of life, the essence of existence, trying to logically fit the pieces of the puzzle together, trying to understand, trying to find answers, trying to find me. I am always looking for signs, searching for words of wisdom. I’m always trying to find a message,a sign, a hint.
I listen to everyone. I listen to the person who is asking me for money, walking on the street, stopping me in a car, telling me he or she is cold and hungry, I listen to words of wisdom from her or his lips. I listen to the wise ones, I read their words and ponder on their ideas, I think about their practical use and how I can use the acquired knowledge for my everyday life.
I listen to my great friends, I let their words sink into me, I listen to their hopes and I imagine their lives. One told me today that she believes life is hell, I ponder that as truth and my compassion for her grows. My heart breaks, but when I see the glint of happiness and the reasons why; Setting up my niece’s birthday party, family gathering, going to a wedding etc. I feel such joy for them. I imagine them setting up the party, with love in their hearts. Putting up the balloons. I imagine their anticipation for my niece to see the decorations. To eat the cake, to open presents. I feel joy for them, I smile and try my best to make sure they do not have to feel out of place on that day.
I find snippets of wisdom everywhere, especially when and where I least expect it. There’s always some small (or large) message to be gleaned if your ears are opened to hearing them. Sometimes I find a message so relevant to what I was specifically seeking, that it stirs fear and excitement within me.
I think about ‘life’, about their lives, about the life of that stranger looking at the books in the store, about the life of that child stomping because he wants to ride the escalator again, about the life of the clerk looking at her phone, probably checking the time to leave work.
I try to merge all the messages and images together, to make a story, the story which is will make a great novel. It is a story of hope, a story of struggle, a story of motivation, a story of failure, a story of triumph after all, a story of ressurection. It is a great and interesting novel, the novel of life.
I look into the eyes of that person that I love. I see a light in there. You know the one I am talking about. I see it and I connect with it. I acknowledge it. Sometimes, it shy’s away. I think it can feel me. Usually, it recognizes me. It acknowledges me. And then I feel safe.
I feel safe, but I still feel apart. I feel segregated. I feel apart from it all. I feel hungry. Through the noise of living. The joy and tears. The fear and bravery. The happiness and pain, there is a quiet soft sadness. There is a small broken heart. but I have not yet discovered it’s pain. Maybe it’s the inevitable pain that is to come, but I know it is missing someone already but I know not who.
I search my dreams, yes my dreams and there, I find what I am looking for but then I wake to the tick tock tick tock tick tock, I see the empty room, the dusty window, the scent of linen and sleep…and there it is again… that very quiet pain.
I am Oluwadamilare Awe