IF stars did not burn with such intense fervour, would we still write poetry about them? If flowers were not so bright and fragrant, would we still use them as metaphors? If success did not take sacrifice, would we still celebrate it?
When we are born into the world, we are born with no gifts other than the breath in our lungs and the pulse in our hearts. We are nothing more than dice tossed into the open universe. We have no destiny other than what we create for ourselves. We are never truly meant to be anything more than we already are in any given moment. Yet, when our lives come to an end and it is time for us to leave the world, we leave it with a debt to pay. Our debt to the universe is the stories that our lives will eventually tell.
As we go about our lives and allow the world to fill us with its essence, we often realise just how small we are in comparison to its greatness. We recognise that it is an impossible feat for us to leave our own marks where giants have already walked. So, we begin to shape ourselves into being worthy of a place to leave our own footsteps. We change and grow so that, instead of the world filling us with its essence, we can fill it with ours. After all, what other way is there for us to ensure that the world will remember us after we are gone? How do we ensure that our stories are powerful enough to shape others even when we are no longer here to tell them?
However, the idea of living in a world that accommodates us and bends to our will can be extraordinarily intoxicating. The idea of being a tsunami in a world of ripples, or a blaze in a world of sparks, can be so powerful that we give up parts of ourselves to grow closer to achieving it. In essence, we begin to wear masks or hide pieces of ourselves in order to create the illusion of being someone more powerful than we are, even if this means that we cannot really be ourselves anymore.
Going through different phases and wearing different faces until we discover our true identities is a natural part of growing up. It is no different from trying different styles or new hobbies until we find one that truly represents our interests. Similarly, sometimes we may fake confidence to survive a frightening moment or wear a mask to fit in. We may imitate people we admire by dressing or behaving like them, or follow trends because they are popular, even though we may not really like them. The real issue arises when we discover our true identities and continue wearing masks anyway.
We become frightened that we will not be enough, so we cut off our own wings before we have a chance to take flight. The idea of being small when compared to the world is quite unsettling, but it is the harsh reality. The only way to overcome the implications of this reality is to accept it fully.
When we do become brave enough to face this reality, we will understand the truth. The truth is that we do not write poetry about stars because they burn so intensely. We do not use flowers as metaphors because they are bright and fragrant. We do not celebrate successes only because it takes sacrifice to achieve them. Instead, we do these things because they inspire us. Simply by existing, stars and flowers inspire the purest poetry from within us. Simply by existing, the success stories of others inspire us to keep persevering in the face of obstacles.
We do not need to burn, bloom, or make unreasonable sacrifices to become an inspiration to others. We do not need to give up who we are to be worthy of our names being remembered. We can do all of these things simply by looking at life face to face, without masks and without falsehood. Although we are small, we can create powerful stories as long as we ensure that we truly are ourselves.