The coffee sat on the table unstirred. I was so engrossed with what I was reading that the freshly brewed coffee could now pass as an iced americano. My eyes ran word after word; line after line; pages to chapters. It must be something in the air here. I missed this.
Pause. I lie down the book I was reading on a page that read, āLook again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.ā The most clichĆ©s of all existential-crisis-scene-clichĆ©s right? Me, my undrunk coffee, a book so deep I could drown without even trying to swim, and my self-exploration.
As if mocking me, the stillness inside my bitter cup of coffee reflects the revolving world around me. While I, the quantum particle on that pale blue dot, try to grasp everything while it spins in chaotic bliss creating a whirlpool of harmony. I stir my coffee, trying to mimic the stirring thoughts inside me, and asked the barista for extra packets of sugar. While waiting, I noticed how engrossed everyone is trying to go against the current of becoming an unforgettable speck of sand carried away by the tides of history. Applying filters and carefully curating their life behind pixels. I might have been as guilty too, or at least an accomplice to this resistance of becoming ājust anotherā. I remember the last time I never bothered to check how many likes, comments, follows I got was when I was preoccupied getting my degree, making mistakes and learning from them, trying to stand on my own feet. I always had the feeling that people thought I was the matured and independent one back then, but little do they know how much I depended on the people around me, too.
The barista took long enough that when she came back, I was already tangled on thoughts about the past. Lucky for her, I guess. Normally, I get all riled up on mediocre service. I guess Iāve been let down far too many times to know my worth now.
I finish my coffee and bought a slice of cake for later and started walking back. De javu. The whole afternoon had been nothing more than a repetition of sort. Iāve been over this cycle for about a thousand times with just slight variations. An exchange of ideas over a cup of coffee with a friend or colleague; a bottle of beer on a lazy afternoon with my siblings; a celebration with my family; a quiet walk with a significant other.
But if I take a step back and see the grander picture, not just step after step, I can clearly see that I have created my own āpale blue dotā. And itās fueled by the clockwork I carefully curated. I try my best to grease up the gears making it tick, the smile of a stranger; the respect of my colleagues; the hospitality of friends; and the love of my family.
All these minute gestures, these fragmented memories, these perfectly imperfect people I hold dear made me strong enough not to fight the current, but instead, be the eye of the storm that would sweep any harm that would come to the ones I love away.
So yeah, it might appear like Iām happily going thru life with reckless abandon. But the wise knows not to mistake the life Iām living as if it was just pure luck. I have my scars to prove it. And if you think Iām bluffing, Iāll be more than glad to tell you otherwise over a cup of coffee.
2087
dededos
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
