“Ordinary” is a word that stirs a deep unease in many of us. Why do we dread the thought of being ordinary, being just another face in the vast crowd of humanity? This fear stems from the unsettling realization that our lives, no matter how full of dreams and ambitions, might fade into the indistinguishable mass of existence. It forces us to confront the possibility that we may not be as unique or significant as we hope. If we are just one among many, does that lessen our value? Does it strip our lives of meaning? And if so, what, then, is the true essence of life?

When we come to terms with our potential ordinariness, despite all our efforts to rise above it, we find ourselves at a crossroads. We face a choice: to surrender to despair, sinking into an existential slumber; or to rise with resolve, embracing life for what it is and finding contentment in simply being. But this brings forth an even deeper question: What, then, is there to savor in this existence? Where can we find joy?

What shoulder, what art, could twist the sinews of the heart?

Being young, I often find myself drawn into the labyrinth of introspection, questioning my life, my choices, my purpose. I spend countless hours wrestling with the complexities of existence, a process that often leaves me burdened with a persistent guilt, that lingers, no matter how hard I try to dispel it. There are times when all I long for is SILENCE, a silence so profound that it could drown out the clamor of the world, offering a respite from the vulnerability, fear, and confusion that so often overwhelm me.

But even in that silence, the questions remain: What am I truly seeking in this life? Do I want to be remembered as kind, wise, or great? What is the essence of the person I am striving to become? Is the path I am on truly my own, and how can I ever be certain? Yet, in my search for meaning, I may have overlooked a fundamental truth: we are still young, adrift in a sea of aspirations and dreams, all while grappling with the ordinariness of life.

But what if life is, indeed, devoid of meaning? That thought is more terrifying than any other. In moments of fear and disorientation, where do we turn for solace? The question remains unanswered, lingering like a shadow on the edge of our consciousness, waiting to be acknowledged.

Beneath the shadows of creation, there lies a question: What force, unseen and untamed, dares to twist the sinews of the heart? What hand shapes the fierce and fragile, molding power and vulnerability into the beating core of life? In the quiet, a silent craftsman works, threading the unseen with strength and terror alike. We stand as both creator and created, wondering at the force that dares to shape us so.

Your pain is gone.

Your stay was short.

Will my memory last forever?

You were touched by all and loved by all, but we are about to fall.

– William Blake