Some days I report to a distant branch.
On my way to work, there is a stream, a small one, crossing beneath the road. To one side the land is flat and the other side a steep slope. So, the little stream rests for a moment in the flat land making a basin of water before flowing under the bridge to make a sharp drop to the rocky terrain below.
Need not to say it is mesmerizing – the fall.
Every day, leaning on to the glass, I watch that white bubbly flow run hurriedly across the rocky surfaces making crisscross patterns, sprinkling gleaming water drops over the green shrubs. When the spring blossoms shed their colourful curvy petals over the rocks and the stream it is a perfect dreamy treat to the eyes. It is lively and lovely.
It makes a landmark for the commuters to say they have finished almost half of their journey to the other town. Sometimes I lose my trace. That is when I sit facing the other side of the stream – the pond. The silent water body makes itself invisible from its stillness. It is the source to the fall, but fell to the background, not focused.
So, it is not peculiar to say, as one compassionate, I feel sorry for the silent pond. It feeds the fall, feed the plain, is blossoming flowers and vegetation while beautifying the landscape but no one seems noticed it.
It is like us – the middle-aged. The world is blind to the calm, serene domains of the middle-aged. We feed the world with our knowledge, make the background for them, hail the forthcoming generation. We are the feeding source for the next world. But, our presence is nothing to most of them. We are not counted. We feel neglected, humiliated and some of us therefore frustrated. They lost the focus they received at their youth. So, many at this age try to bring that juvenile youth back by bizarre clothes which do not fit for them, indulge in relationships based merely on sensual pleasures, or go under the knife. Not ready to accept the status quo.
The youth is joyful. Still fresh to the world, it is inquisitive, bold to bring trends, ready to enjoy the moment. It is like the frisky fall. They get all the attention they want. Watching them delights one’s mind. They are free to enjoy the glamour. We the middle-aged are no more part of that jovial setting. Despite the blazing vigour, passion and the desires we are blocked from the joy. Everything seemed barred to our world. Like that pond with no rapids, power and the sparkle we seemed dead to the world. Isn’t that disheartening?
But, keep in mind, it is the pond which fed the flow. It is the pond which brought that beauty to the land. Not like the flow which erode the surrounding, thrash the growth around it with the rapids, the pond feeds its environment. It spells love. The love towards the world. It is the silent cradle of that joy of the world.
So, I am not disheartened about my middle age. Actually, I enjoy that. I enjoy the growth of youngsters who learnt from me, who followed my footpath, who blossomed under my wing. I have done my part to the world and this is time given to me to enjoy the results.
So, I love this pond style stage of my life. It is part of my journey. It is set to see what difference I brought to this world. I accept the status quo and the specifics of the status.
1 : Accept the life
2 : Every stage of life has its own joysCategory: Life / Subcategory: Aging
Tags: life, aging, frustration, adoring the moment, joys of life