Every day we awaken to earn another dollar. To work, is to keep food on our own table, pay bills of necessity and of the things we want, it is what we have been taught from generation to generation which is, working and making money is what keeps the world going round.
Having a career and working is essential to keeping us alive, yes, money is important, however, does it truly keep this world of ours spinning in peace and harmony? No.
As a global society, we may have forgotten or put aside the true meaning of life, paying it forward.
Have we dismissed the quality of life that we want to lead?
Perhaps it is due to the economy, the way we are forced to struggle to earn enough money to keep our lifestyles intact. On the other hand, maybe it is due to the greed of our Governments, of those that are in power, even those who are rich may be the cause or perhaps the excuse of what has become of our world, a sense of emptiness, loneliness; a fight for individual gain.
Although taught that money is the key to happiness, each of us arguably knows that when offered a smile, a courtesy, a genuine thought or words of positivity, we feel different. A sense of warmth overwhelms us; we feel a sensation of love, of being understood, seen or heard. Any of these gifts given by another individual has more power than money could ever buy; it is recognition that we are alive.
Perhaps anger and injustice would not harness our world if we did not live for ourselves, if we were not waking only for personal gain, if in amongst each day we added a little something within the lives of another. Perhaps then and only then, our world could find some peace, tolerance and discover the true meaning of unconditional love.
What will make the world a better place?
Another form of currency, Kindness, a simple act can make a bigger impact if we just pay it forward. Maybe One Day, Could be Today.
The Memory That We Were Kind
Does anyone know where the little boy went?
The little boy who used to be me?
He’s still alive somewhere inside this shell
Though the shell is all you can see.
Can you still see him reaching out for love
From behind these time-worn eyes?
The child with a heart as bright as the stars
Hiding beneath this thin disguise?
What a cruel trickster Father Time can be
Changing our costumes as we age.
From infant to child, and from young to old,
A new character with every stage.
We might as well be four different people.
The adult barely resembles the child.
The external transformation is so complete,
Young and old are rarely reconciled.
But there are some whose eyes still twinkle,
For whom the child within never dies.
The outside world can see only the surface
But they know how the surface lies.
What can we learn from all this changing?
From the fact that nothing is real?
How can we judge by a deceptive façade
That hides the way we truly feel?
The only path to true knowledge, it seems,
Is to think of everyone that we see
As the child they were, who they are today,
And the old person they soon will be.
We should also see them as dead and gone,
Their short life on earth finally done,
With all their trials rendered null and void,
All their battles either lost or won.
Whitman wrote, “The powerful play goes on
And you may contribute a verse.”
The same is true for every person we meet.
We make their lives better or worse.
Thus, we should measure disheartening words
And make sure they need to be spoken
So we won’t be among those who caused pain
If they reach the end of life heartbroken.
And when those we’ve known are old and gray,
Remembering years they left behind,
Comforting words we said might return again
With the memory that we were kind.