My God had Big Feet of Clay?
By Seikholen Thomsong
I once met an old man. He struck up a conversation as he came and sat beside me while I sipped a cup of tea in an obscure tea stall. He had brown eyes, grey hairs - that were slightly diminishing - and a face with deep-set lines all over his face that you would wonder if the river Mississippi- Missouri had meandered through once and had now dried up.
He looked the kind of man who had seen life through and through. He looked disturbed at first glance. Without even an introduction, he started speaking not particularly to me. Maybe he was an old man who just wanted to talk. He just wanted somebody to find time for him and listen. He might have just wanted to connect. Perhaps his wife and children had no time for him. Perhaps he had outlived his utility in the eyes of the only people he had- his wife and children.
Old age I guess must be very lonely. Your friends have moved on, some may have died and some may have relocated to various other places. Spiritually, I think it must be lonely all the more. You are out of touch with your own generation. Times would have changed and you and the present generation have a deep chasm in your communication. Values might have then undergone a total change. Perceptions might have changed. Society as a whole would have undergone a metamorphosis. You would feel so out of place.
He said, “ The soul could die a thousand deaths…… ”
I held my cup of tea to my lips, wondered who he was talking to. I then shook my head, went on to sip my tea, lost in my own thoughts.
“……Yet you can remain oblivious to it. But that is only if you have sacrificed wholesomely - the core of your values - to the necessity of existing”, he continued, extracting no response from me. I brushed him off as totally mad now.
Well isn’t it a wonder we all are almost on the verge of going mad most of the times.? Maybe he actually was, at that point of time.
“Look at how we live our lives!” he said, muttering, almost audible only to himself.
Honestly, did I really have the time, then, to mull over how I should when I didn’t know where I was heading the next moment. I didn’t care where tomorrow took me or where I was yesterday. It had been so long taking life as it comes that you become indifferent to it. So it didn’t matter how I lived my life; most of all it should not matter to him, I thought.
“Look at how I live my life?” I said with disdain. “Why think about it!” I replied. Somehow, what he said struck me as if he was addressing me. I guess I had become self conscious. All I knew was that I didn’t need a prickly conscience just then. In fact I had reconciled to my fate. I had stopped bothering about what others see of me or how they make me out to me. It was I realized an effort in futility.
Then we talked of something else and soon it was time to pay for the tea and go my own way. However what he said stayed in my mind. The man had something in his madness. I couldn’t stop thinking as I hit my pad that night. Thinking about life nothing ever is the way you plan it out to be. And you know it could have been either too pretty or too ugly to ever be re-told. From what we see we paint our views on any canvas that we come across as we pass through life. So this canvas that I paint with oil might not suit your aesthetic tastes.
He was right in so many ways. Our souls have been burnt on the altars of a pagan deity called Life. I am not speaking religion, what I mean here is that even as young people we have had to make so many compromises as we grow day by day.
Talking religion or faith, did you ever believe that faith helped you cope with real life? How could you when I knew you never knew what real life was till you walk through those thorns and your feet bleeds. Tragedy is they are not even so distant enough that you could relegate them to the past or to the back of your conscience. So they torment you each night as you struggle to close your eyes tight and shut yourself out of this world. Shut yourself up every night but what is the use! You wake up to a same new day each day, nothing changes.
Well my God had feet of clay all along. So you may say my soul has been fractured with different loyalties. Think it over, you may be right or you may be wrong. That is for you to find out. Another human frailty, you tell me, is we are seldom above ourselves. Well I would not argue with you on that. But I would tell you my God did not die young but he sure had feet of clay. He sure had big feet of clay.
I once met an old man. He struck up a conversation as he came and sat beside me while I sipped a cup of tea in an obscure tea stall. He had brown eyes, grey hairs - that were slightly diminishing - and a face with deep-set lines all over his face that you would wonder if the river Mississippi- Missouri had meandered through once and had now dried up.
He looked the kind of man who had seen life through and through. He looked disturbed at first glance. Without even an introduction, he started speaking not particularly to me. Maybe he was an old man who just wanted to talk. He just wanted somebody to find time for him and listen. He might have just wanted to connect. Perhaps his wife and children had no time for him. Perhaps he had outlived his utility in the eyes of the only people he had- his wife and children.
Old age I guess must be very lonely. Your friends have moved on, some may have died and some may have relocated to various other places. Spiritually, I think it must be lonely all the more. You are out of touch with your own generation. Times would have changed and you and the present generation have a deep chasm in your communication. Values might have then undergone a total change. Perceptions might have changed. Society as a whole would have undergone a metamorphosis. You would feel so out of place.
He said, “ The soul could die a thousand deaths…… ”
I held my cup of tea to my lips, wondered who he was talking to. I then shook my head, went on to sip my tea, lost in my own thoughts.
“……Yet you can remain oblivious to it. But that is only if you have sacrificed wholesomely - the core of your values - to the necessity of existing”, he continued, extracting no response from me. I brushed him off as totally mad now.
Well isn’t it a wonder we all are almost on the verge of going mad most of the times.? Maybe he actually was, at that point of time.
“Look at how we live our lives!” he said, muttering, almost audible only to himself.
Honestly, did I really have the time, then, to mull over how I should when I didn’t know where I was heading the next moment. I didn’t care where tomorrow took me or where I was yesterday. It had been so long taking life as it comes that you become indifferent to it. So it didn’t matter how I lived my life; most of all it should not matter to him, I thought.
“Look at how I live my life?” I said with disdain. “Why think about it!” I replied. Somehow, what he said struck me as if he was addressing me. I guess I had become self conscious. All I knew was that I didn’t need a prickly conscience just then. In fact I had reconciled to my fate. I had stopped bothering about what others see of me or how they make me out to me. It was I realized an effort in futility.
Then we talked of something else and soon it was time to pay for the tea and go my own way. However what he said stayed in my mind. The man had something in his madness. I couldn’t stop thinking as I hit my pad that night. Thinking about life nothing ever is the way you plan it out to be. And you know it could have been either too pretty or too ugly to ever be re-told. From what we see we paint our views on any canvas that we come across as we pass through life. So this canvas that I paint with oil might not suit your aesthetic tastes.
He was right in so many ways. Our souls have been burnt on the altars of a pagan deity called Life. I am not speaking religion, what I mean here is that even as young people we have had to make so many compromises as we grow day by day.
Talking religion or faith, did you ever believe that faith helped you cope with real life? How could you when I knew you never knew what real life was till you walk through those thorns and your feet bleeds. Tragedy is they are not even so distant enough that you could relegate them to the past or to the back of your conscience. So they torment you each night as you struggle to close your eyes tight and shut yourself out of this world. Shut yourself up every night but what is the use! You wake up to a same new day each day, nothing changes.
Well my God had feet of clay all along. So you may say my soul has been fractured with different loyalties. Think it over, you may be right or you may be wrong. That is for you to find out. Another human frailty, you tell me, is we are seldom above ourselves. Well I would not argue with you on that. But I would tell you my God did not die young but he sure had feet of clay. He sure had big feet of clay.
I like your blog - looks like you had a bad day here."You wake up to the same new day everyday, nothing changes". C'mom, life is not that bad and even if it were - there are some good days to even it all out.
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