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A desolate corner of the Internet where a fledgling writer toils. |
| A Glimpse of Heaven The tedious interlude defies description. Each day, we pass by one another on our way to do this or that with nary a glance at the people with which we share air. Minor chores take on an all consuming quality, so much so, that we oftentimes ignore vague, yet unmistakable signs of fate in order to see these chores through. We seldom take the time to exchange pleasantries, smiles, or even simple nods of recognition -- all in the name of progress. There is a great expanse in perception between our individual worlds and the reality which surrounds us. We dare not trespass into the guarded space that seems to encircle every person -- shielding them from any intrusion that may contain elements of fear, rejection, or some other class of injury. Were we only to recognize, for a moment, how impious this behavior must appear to Him who made us, perhaps we would transform ourselves into something more than we are -- intimate strangers. We would instead resonate with comely auras that invite rather than repel, and in this fashion we would create an environment that brings out the best in us, rather than our present state of malaise. A utopian scenario? Perhaps, but what if it were not? To what uncharted places would this kind of behavioral shift take us? For me, the baby steps that I have taken on the journey toward greater awareness have been nothing short of wondrous. Every now and again, a stranger crosses our path and rekindles in us the sweet sensations of youth. I regard these feelings as youthful because we seem to cease recognizing them when we enter the realm of adulthood. The unblemished, unencumbered, and unmistakable sense of discovery that we all felt as children is forfeited once we begin to "mature" -- which is certainly a euphemism for a slow drift toward the numbing of our very essence. We should instead be covetous of this gift, and open ourselves to the daily revelations that lay before us. |
Copyright © 2000-2008 Ramón E. Colón / www.raycolon.com |