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Gordon's D-Zone Arcive (2006-2014)

Friday, November 07, 2008

27 YEARS AND 9 MONTHS OF LIFE

Tomorrow I’ll be celebrating my 27th birthday. I was told I was born on the 8th November 1981 at around one pm... That's soon after lunchtime... But enough of that for I'll get hungry... The fact is that I know I am getting old! And feeling it… But, I need to stop before I turn 27 and ask - have I achieved something over these years? To be quite honest, I didn’t have time to stop and think that much as I had lots of things to keep my mind busy. But now that I have decided to stop and write a bit, I realise that I cannot answer the question - not out of hunger but because I'm not sure of how to answer. Indeed, what have I achieved in 27 years?

I may think of the changes that have taken place in my life only during this year... The graduation in Leeds... A new job... Making a lot of new friends… And finishing some important documents and reports... Deciding on whether to proceed with my PhD… and, finally, going for it! Etc. But where does that leave me?

I don’t really know. Life is unpredictable after all. I have had plans that had to be abandoned many times in the past. Paths that were not of my own choosing and others that were and are. But then, there are those 9 months that I have to account for. Because in those 9 months shielded from the world, I was here and wasn’t here in the world. And, if I think about it, we are never far from that condition. We float in a planet in a vast universe. In reality, we are insignificant in relation to what is out there.

And what is out there can scare us. And I know that. But what can I do but wait, hope that plans work out the way I want them to. But then, what if they don’t? A Yiddish saying says it best – ‘man makes plans and God laughs!’. Our life, our plans and our whole course of life, is only important to us. However, at the same time, we are the only ones who can discover who we really are. But ironically, who we are is often buried and obscured by what we have been told about ourselves or by false ideas about our abilities and our potential.

In 9 months, I came into the world. 27 years later I am still here. Writing this. But how many will remember this world? How many will know that we even existed? And then, will there be someone to remember? My only consolation in light of these questions is that the only certain thing I have is this present moment. The time and space I was before is lost and the future has not been created yet.

And so, at this point, what will I choose?

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