All human beings are like matchsticks.
Lined up in the womb you wait for the day, when you slither through the anatomy of your mom into the world. To get a name. And to take up your role in the crowd. Much like a stick lined up inside the box waiting for its turn. Looks apart, fundamentally there isn't much difference between an unborn baby and an idle stick. It's when you come out, your worth is proved. Agreed, some foetuses have congential malformation, but so do matchsticks. Some don't have a head and others are too thin to be striked against. But keeping these exceptions aside, I think most of them would be indinguishable.
All of us come to this world with a purpose. But you may ask, what purpose? Who decides why we came to the world? There is a purpose, but it doesn't always have to be predetermined. The purpose comes blank along with our life, like a tag in a new piece of cloth. We fill it up with our deeds and give a meaning to our existence in the world.
There are people who probably live just because they can't die. I mean there is nothing their sane selves can do to die. Of course, there will always be some who kill themselves. The insane lot. But that isn't easy. It takes extreme motivation to kill oneself. Leaving the suicidal souls, many live because dying is not an option.
Some matchsticks don't light. Even after repeated strikes. They refuse to entertain their pupose. They come out of their womb. But their birth is futile. They live an unlived life. Because a matchstick truly lives when it burns. Only when fire eats it away does it have a meaningful existence.
Some others burn, but they don't light up anything. You hold them to a candle, but they go out before even starting a speck of flame. They die before doing anything of worth. They leave their entire length with you, but that entire body is useless. And there is no second chance here, as there is no second life. Once a stick burns and goes out, it doesn't get to burn again. It doesn't serve any purpose again.
Finally, matchsticks that last and light others, such as a candle or an incense stick, live with a purpose. Some light just one, and others light several before putting out. The later ones live a life of contentment, of supreme purpose. They serve that purpose until their entire body is withered away by fire. They live life to the fullest.
We all have been striked upon. And we are burning. How much can we light up before we put out? How many good deeds? What can we do that stands out of the crowd? Have we thought about our purpose? How do we live our purpose till our entire length burns out?
Lined up in the womb you wait for the day, when you slither through the anatomy of your mom into the world. To get a name. And to take up your role in the crowd. Much like a stick lined up inside the box waiting for its turn. Looks apart, fundamentally there isn't much difference between an unborn baby and an idle stick. It's when you come out, your worth is proved. Agreed, some foetuses have congential malformation, but so do matchsticks. Some don't have a head and others are too thin to be striked against. But keeping these exceptions aside, I think most of them would be indinguishable.
All of us come to this world with a purpose. But you may ask, what purpose? Who decides why we came to the world? There is a purpose, but it doesn't always have to be predetermined. The purpose comes blank along with our life, like a tag in a new piece of cloth. We fill it up with our deeds and give a meaning to our existence in the world.
There are people who probably live just because they can't die. I mean there is nothing their sane selves can do to die. Of course, there will always be some who kill themselves. The insane lot. But that isn't easy. It takes extreme motivation to kill oneself. Leaving the suicidal souls, many live because dying is not an option.
Some matchsticks don't light. Even after repeated strikes. They refuse to entertain their pupose. They come out of their womb. But their birth is futile. They live an unlived life. Because a matchstick truly lives when it burns. Only when fire eats it away does it have a meaningful existence.
Some others burn, but they don't light up anything. You hold them to a candle, but they go out before even starting a speck of flame. They die before doing anything of worth. They leave their entire length with you, but that entire body is useless. And there is no second chance here, as there is no second life. Once a stick burns and goes out, it doesn't get to burn again. It doesn't serve any purpose again.
Finally, matchsticks that last and light others, such as a candle or an incense stick, live with a purpose. Some light just one, and others light several before putting out. The later ones live a life of contentment, of supreme purpose. They serve that purpose until their entire body is withered away by fire. They live life to the fullest.
We all have been striked upon. And we are burning. How much can we light up before we put out? How many good deeds? What can we do that stands out of the crowd? Have we thought about our purpose? How do we live our purpose till our entire length burns out?
Can we think of a life beyond (even a little beyond) earning enough to sustain a family, get married, have kids, save for retirement, get the kids to study and get them married and live off pension and die off pension?
A passing thought at the middle of the night. But I am sure this will pass multiple times.
A passing thought at the middle of the night. But I am sure this will pass multiple times.
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1 comments:
The thought should and will surely pass multiple times. Nice analogy you have made. Enjoyed reading it.
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