It's been more than a year now since my last published post. In my heart though, I feel that my soul has been dry and weary in a way that's equivalent to more than a thousand years already. I entitled this post as "The Art of Returning." But am I really returning, and for real this time? No one knows - even I don't know for sure. How do you return anyway? I can imagine it as an art, not because it's beautiful, but because it's tragic yet compelling at the same time.
To return, you have to know where you've gone to. But you see, I've no clue where my ship was sailing thus far. How do you return if you can't retrace your steps? Retrace steps you can't even call your own.. for all except the shape and size match your feet; but the will, the desire that brought about every marking step, you don't recall any coming from your heart. Or maybe, in the process of treading your path, you've forgotten why you've taken the first step in the first place. Once in a while people get lost. Some find their way back, while others.. they stay, they continue, they take a different route. Leaving and returning, surely in one way or another will change you.
To return is an ugly thing, simply put. The world goes only in 1 direction (as far as we've proven) that's why trying to return will always be as nasty as it gets. Try to get back in time, you'll just lose more time. Try to return to your old self, you'll realize the irreversible nature of your new self. You can only pass by that point in time, that decision, that moment once.
To return is a lie; one can never return. It will always be an obsession we can dawdle on but never attain. Least we can do is accept our current state, move on, but never dream of returning.
To return is an art. We will always have a different eye for it. It will always be a thing we can aspire for but will never take an ultimate tangible form. It will always be something that we'll chase.
The good thing is we don't have to return. I read somewhere that we always perceive the past to be better that it actually was, our present lifeless than it actually is, and the future more scary that it actually will be.
So instead of returning, maybe I can try restarting? Turning my "now" into a new starting point. I will never be able to clean my past slate and make it gleam. But good thing my future is a blank canvass yet to be tinkered with.
