The Beginning of The End, or The End of The Beginning?

What defines the "end"?

This question plagues me incessantly. More so, in this season of scheduled farewells and ambiguous new chapters, the rhetorical question that inspired the title of today often pirouette in my head across the twirling mathematics formulas, alpha-helix structures and osmoregulation steps.

Is this the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning?

I am entirely aware of the possible interpretations you may derive from the overused phrase: "the beginning of the end". Just to clarify, I do not mean it as "the point where something starts to gradually get worse", though it could be part of it; but rather, the start of the ending chapter of this phase of my life.

It's scary, yet exciting, to think about the future. Up to this point, it's still really hard to wrap my mind around the idea that in less than two months, I will be officially done with my program, and in another couple of months, I'll be leaving my loved ones, my friends, my hometown, and trying to live in a foreign country. So, won't it be the end of the beginning (my life up till that moment), then?

But what if, what if it is actually the beginning of the end? I'm on the cusp of change, in my last year as a teen. What if this is the last stretch to sprint, before I find myself suddenly thrown into the uncharted waters of true adulthood? Will this be the last song before youth becomes overrated? What if I lose my spontaneity, my passion-driven impulses, my mess of thoughts, my nonchalantness? Or would I not? I really can't say for sure, as much as I want to.

However, this topic of endings and beginnings led my train of thought off the tangent, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realisation of how often we cherish the "firsts", but neglect the "lasts". The first step, the first word, the first time you won an award, the first time you managed to make a perfect backflip.

But what about the last time you sat in your father's lap? The last time you had a tickle war with your siblings. The last flower you plucked from the garden and gave it to your mother. The last conversation you had with someone. The last hug. The last look. The last smile.

Perhaps we take things too much for granted. We are prone to assume that what we have would always be there, be it a skill, friendship, family or routine. We remember the first hug, but after fifty hugs, or even just ten, the novelty of it eventually wears off. Why? Why can't we ever cherish something, every time, every moment? It's hard to remember the instance of when the last time you did something was like. That's because when we were doing it for the last time, we didn't think that it would actually be the last time. Perhaps we assumed there would be a next time, or we never thought that it was even worth noting.

At this point of life, I think that this realisation is worth more than finding the answer to the original question itself. But without "lasts" there would be a closing-off of avenues that may lead to bigger and brighter "firsts", "firsts" that are as dazzling as they are colourful. So, I will not fear the "lasts", at least, no more than I fear the "firsts".

Cherish each moment like it's the last, and there will be no regrets.

"In the end, we only regret the chances we didn't take, the relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make." - Lewis Carroll

Love,

Eunice.

Chances & Choices

I've been thinking a lot lately. It's hard to wrap my head around the idea of whether we have multiple chances at something that is best for us, or whether there are instances of which if we let slip through our fingers, we would never find again? Could some of the most precious things boil down to just one, single, precious chance?

Yes, I am aware that many people believe that there is always a second chance; that it is never too late to start working towards your dreams. But if you really think about it, does that notion truly resonate within you? Do we come up with such preconceptions as a way to console ourselves? Is all of this "meant to be" idea but a hoax? Are we just lying to ourselves?

I have to admit, that I used to be really sure that what's meant to be, will be. And I'm not saying that I no longer hold this belief. However, I do know that a belief has no meaning, no substance, if we never question it. That is merely blind belief. I want to be able to stand up and defend my beliefs, should such situations occur, or they are nothing but words in my head. Thus, here I am, musing over this complicated and convoluted topic.

Surely if something is "meant to be", it will be, for "being" would be the only thing that we see or
experience. But every choice we make, we are choosing to embark on a different path, however insignificant it may seem at first, I think that every decision contributes to who we will become; who we are. When you choose to procrastinate, you are choosing the path that will cause you more trouble and effort to achieve the same outcome as if you had be diligent from the start. When you decide to go for the heels instead of flats, you may have caused yourself unnecessary pain. But these situations can still be salvaged, just probably with a bit more of commitment and effort.

This then brings to mind of choices that might never be able to be altered; choices whose paths we undertake will never quite lead us back to where we began, however close we may strive to be. Just like an asymptote, really. Forever coming close, little by little, but never, ever, reaching the point they we desire to be in, or return to.

How many opportunities have I missed, for good, because I was too scared to take the leap out of my comfort zone? How much hurt have I caused with the words from my mouth? How many people have I unintentionally pushed aside? How many hearts I could have reached and touched, had I not been self-conscious or conceited? How many tears could I have saved, if I had been more sensitive, proactive, diligent, or self-less?

No, of course it's not too late to start now, but can we ever really be able to shed off our insecurities and the self-glorifying nature of mankind, and pursue what is best for us, or those we love, and those who love us? Will we ever be brave enough to step up and step out in faith alone?


These thoughts plague me incessantly, but in a good way. They keep me sane, even if they sound like the ramblings of an over-thinker, living in her own world of musings and hypothetical questions. But I love this, it helps me to think about what is truly important, and helps me to grow. One of the saddest things about "growing up" is losing our sense of childlike curiosity, with which we question everything and anything. So I guess I'll never stop wondering and questioning. Life is complicated, yes, but that's what make it all the more beautiful, isn't it? Not knowing everything, of what's ahead, is part of the fun.



p.s. what comes easy won't be as precious as what comes through storm and fire.

Love,           

          

eunice.