A Persian Sufi poet, Attar is said to have told a story of a powerful king who had asked the wise of his time to make a ring that will make him happy when he is sad and sad when he is happy. Those wise men gave him a simple ring on which were etched the words ‘this too will pass’, which very efficiently served the purpose.
Tomorrow I’ll be 21 and when I thought about it today, out of no where came this thought, ‘this too will pass’, and surprisingly the thought is neither gloomy nor pleasant….its just a plain fact. But, I’m bound to think that if this too will pass, then what will remain? Considering the average life time to be 65 years, I can safely say, I’ve lived one-third of it, and it has just passed. I don’t know why I become so desperate to make my existence meaningful. I don’t understand the desire that ‘in this moment I’m alive, I’m here and it should matter’. But this desire, doubtlessly arrogant, is present and there is no denying that.
I never really have thought about how can I make my existence matter but there is one thing I know, that is, when we lose people, alive or dead, they live in our memories. We remember them as we know them and we hardly ever truly know them. So, the memories are corrupt, which I find an insult to the person being remembered. I will not like myself to be insulted like that. I will very much want to be remembered for who I am, if I am to be remembered at all. I will want to be remembered with my flaws and goodnesses but more importantly, as a person that I am. With that, people may not be very fond of my memories but then, this too will pass and eventually I’ll be forgotten. But before its passed, I’ll want to be honest, with my life(whatever is left of it), with my self, now that I’m here. Now that I exist.