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One Hundred Paintings Before Her ……..
The silent night calls out to all the lonely souls out there. Cooling dark night, a fading yellow jade paying hides and seeks with the surrounding grey clouds. She walks home, not before taking in what the night sky has to offer.
She has been all these whiles, treading on an amazing journey. Somehow, sadness grips her heart, as she knows what is truly in her mind now. She is tired. Dreading every new day to come, not wanting to lose herself into the jungle of Life, where repetition expects her to keep on falling down each time she stands up again. How can this journey be amazing anymore?
How can a tired soul go on living anymore? Just by the mere thought of what awaits her tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, or the days to come she can feel her mind completely shutting down.
She knows the paths ahead will only lead her to more disappointment. What went wrong? Once, she can see a brightly lit path. One that her childhood had dreamed of, one that her parents, people have foresaw in her. Perhaps somewhere along the road she has taken the wrong turn.
Where is Hope? Why has Hope, who once came into her world silently, and brought sunshine into her dark world now left her so abruptly? Her fear of the unknown that awaits her beyond that narrow curve ahead of her is now too overwhelming. How much more pain and hurt she can bear? No more.
She remembers once there was a story of a little monk. He was an orphan who came to live with a temple master in the olden days of Japan. There was a period of time where he missed his mother so much that he stopped smiling, talking and every steps taken were heavy. The temple master sensed this. He ordered this little monk to sit under a willow tree located on the cliff of a high mountain, overlooking the grand sceneries of the mountains and deep valleys. He was again asked by the temple master to look at a pile of big rocks separated by a valley just ahead of them. A question was given “look at the pile of big rocks there. Where are the rocks? Are they inside of you or outside of you? Answer me when you are ready.”
And so, the next day the monk ran back to his master with hurried steps and told him, “The rocks are inside of me”. The master smiled silently and said, “You are wrong. If the rocks are inside you how can you run so fast and walk so quickly? Go back again.” He ordered.
The little monk went back and sat under that fateful tree. After a few days, thinking he had the answer he walked slowly back to the temple and met his master. “The rocks are outside of me.” To this, the master replied “You are wrong again. If the rocks are outside of you, why do you walk so heavily?”
Though she does not quite understands the real wisdom of this story, what she comes to learn now is if one keeps the rocks inside, she will be walking around with heavy footsteps. And, if she chooses to move the rocks outside of her, she will be able to walk freely and easily. Perhaps that was the lesson. One’s way of leading everyday life emulates what is in her heart and it is based on her own choice of where to put the pile of big rocks, whether they are inside of her or on the outside of her.
But, she knows her choice now. She has been trying to move this pile of rocks outside of her countless of times, but to no avail that she just chooses to let them remain inside of her.
It is during that very quiet night she decides on her final choice. She is ready to let go now. Ready not for the appending steep uphill climb, but for what awaits her in the place of Nevermore, where she will cease to exist.
Is this the right choice? She does not know. But, she can stand no more at the very thought of being herself. She is after all, just a failure in Life, and a disappointment to everyone and to those that she treasures. The number of times she has wished to be a normal individual to just be able to fit in into the group of friends next to her in school, to be able to just enjoy Life. She has wished to undo everything, and how she has hoped she has never been different. Perhaps, somebody up there meant for her to do something. Well, a wrong person to choose.
She goes through Life, day to day pretending she is okay. Smiling, laughing, doing homework, chatting, yet the voice that cries out each night when she is alone in her room, betrays her. She knows amidst everything, her spirit is falling apart little by little.
Well, this is it. She has chosen to put an end to all. Her one final countdown, before her final existence. A hundred pieces of paintings, before all is gone. Why not? Painting is her passion, it marks her beginning of living, and therefore it shall mark the end.
And so, she begins day after day, finishing one painting after another. She draws everything, her family members, and sceneries. She draws abstract arts and pieces that speak of her lonely heart. Every stroke in every painting voices out her unspoken feelings. She paints of Hope, of Love and of Life. She paints of a Happiness she will never obtain.
As the countdown closes in, she is left with her final hundredth piece of painting. With this, she knows soon all will end. And just as the many ironies she has seen throughout her journey, this piece of painting is her last irony. It is a drawing she names “Self Portrait”. One piece of art that she feels truly resembles her.
Well, that painting….. Her “Self Portrait”, is but just an empty piece of black paper.
And then, as silently as the dawn awakens the rest of the world,
She embraces those that have come to take her.
One final tear, one final smile, at last she has found
The freedom she has long been yearning for.
As silently as the world awakens,
As silently she goes away.
“By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe God a death….and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next.”