When I was immature. I frequently found myself lost in promenades. My ma would inquire off. believing I was right behind her. My wonder would frequently acquire the best of me. pasting me in forepart of the broad array of colourful shows amidst the bombilation of aliens walking aimlessly around the promenade. The instant I sense that my ma has wondered off. I realize that here I am. a lost kid without a clear sense of way. in the center of an unfamiliar district and seamlessly undistinguished to the remainder who seem to cognize where to travel.
With hope and intestine fell. I’d expression for ma and happen her composure and composed. unaware of the chartless way I courageously took to happen her. Old ages after. I’ve acquired a acute sense of way. I’ve memorized the whole promenade I can even see it with my eyes closed. However. the twinkle and colourful shows don’t suspend my universe like it used to. I look at childs basking the drives. I chuckle. I can’t believe I one time had the clip of my life siting one of those. The childs who get lost don’t gimmick my attending either. They’ll find their manner. merely like I did.
Now. I’ve become one of those who walked aimlessly at promenades. And making that. I saw a child. His eyes were reflecting brilliantly. a broad smile spread across his guiltless face. He was so aroused and awestruck at the same clip that I have to halt and watch him. It turned out that he was approximately to sit an escalator. That was all it took to render him in awe- nil illusion. nil out of this universe. Maybe it was his first drive. possibly his fiftieth. Maybe it didn’t affair. I thought to myself. “I was one time like him. ” Once. I was ever looking at things. non merely seeing them. but truly looking at them.
Once. I ne’er ran out of inquiries. ne’er grew tired of looking up. ne’er thought that what I knew was plenty. Where is that individual? Did I lose her? And if I did. will I happen her? Like the pilot in Little Prince. I. excessively. had to turn old and for some ground. we all have to. Even the kid who was so affectionate of escalators will turn old. The inquiry is. does turning old average turning accustomed to everything and finally turning tired of it all? There is a certain feeling of treachery that accompanies turning old.
As a child. I looked frontward to Christmas and. of class. Santa Claus. He ever gave me anything I asked for. But one Christmas Eve. I searched for my gift from Santa. to no help. I thought he’d present it if I fell asleep. First thing in the forenoon. I hastily look for my gift. I searched everyplace for a good half an hr merely to be disappointed in the terminal. My parents told me that I was already excessively old for Santa. I didn’t want to believe it. An hr subsequently. they called me and told me to look once more. this clip stressing that I had to seek looking at the stockings.
And there it was. a sharp five hundred peso measure with “From Santa” written on the envelope. I knew it wasn’t from him. I didn’t inquire for money. And besides. I knew rather good what my uncle’s script looked like. I’m sure he and Santa didn’t portion the same script. Every clip I look back at that incident. I can’t aid but smiling at my apparently foolish behaviour. But back so. the feeling of treachery was so existent I had to shout. I cried for the fact that Christmas wouldn’t be the same once more. for the possibility that faeries and thaumaturgies do non be every bit good.
I cried because the universe. as I knew it. had to alter when I wasn’t even ready yet. I cried. excessively. because I knew that the universe would non wait for me to halt weeping. Now. I barely cry. I’ve stopped anticipating to avoid acquiring hurt. I’ve stopped seeking because I fear I won’t happen what I’m looking for. or possibly. I’m excessively afraid to acknowledge that I’ve grown tired of seeking. Somehow. I’ve learned to make my ain glass Earth. like the roses in The Small Prince. to screen me from letdowns. defeats. and truths. However. this Earth is smothering.
Deep interior. I want to travel back to the clip when felt that the whole universe was something I had to research. I long for hunts. for brushs with world no affair how painful. Because here I am. really much concerned with. as the pilot in the Small Prince would state. affair of effect. yet besides really much in demand of something more indispensable. something I may ne’er to the full ain. I want to be like that kid who frequently found herself lost in promenades – vulnerable yet brave adequate. I want to be able to see the universe without acquiring tired of gazing at it.
I want to be able to shout for something I believe is existent. I want to be in hunt for something. weathering the fact that I may ne’er happen it. For as the pilot and the small prince found a well in the sweet. I excessively. shall believe that in order to seek for something. one must hanker for it unfeignedly and fondly. As worlds we know that nil genuinely worthwhile is of all time that simple. There is something fascinating in seeking yet non happening – the cognition that the enigma of that which is elusive will ever be at that place and will ever maintain us at bay.
We’ve learned that an aner philosphos is hos philei to sophon. 1 Are we still in philei with the Sophon? Are we still loving hunt for being in Being? Or have we stopped hankering. believing that we’ve found our manner. a manner that will take us to all the replies? Have I truly memorized the promenade that is this universe that I can see it even with my eyes closed? I am called to one time once more be in hunt. but this clip. non for my ma. non for Santa’s present. but for her – that individual who one time searched for her ma. one time searched for Santa’s nowadays.
It is she who saw the universe in admiration. It is she who saw the universe without the glass Earth. It is she who felt the universe and saw the bigger image. And when I find her. I will cognize that the universe is non like the promenade which I can memorise. non like money inside the carrying whose value is mine to have. Alternatively. I will understand that what I know and what I will cognize and what I will cognize of it will ne’er be genuinely plenty. The searching will ne’er stop.