train tracks.
I cannot say I am unaffected by the conversation of the previous night. Whilst not exactly stumbled, I am definitely affected. To see who I thought was a bulwark of faith declare her weakness and doubts kinda shaked my whole being. I feel privileged to be in confidence, yet terror, that such problems strikes us all. I had tried to be of help, to give advise as I always do. In the end, I found myself floundering for words. Words that held little meaning when uttered, for they tried to encapsulate feelings and experience that only I felt and remembered. All I can do is offer company and prayers. All I could muster was a show of confidence to bolster any lack in hers. Perhaps we all need a helping hand when we drop low in our walk, and I was glad I had been there to give mine. Yet I fear mine was insufficient, I feared mine was tainted with conflicts. An ailing hand would not offer much lift to the falling would it not?
In my dreams, I came upon this thought:
As we lead out life, it is as a train starting from a terminus... it will pass through many others along its way, some stations great and small, rich or poor, significant or otherwise.
At every station that it paused to stop, passengers would come and passengers go. It is the passengers that determine the makeup of the train itself - if it is predominantly youthful, the train would be noisy and probably vandalised. If it is predominantly old, the train would be quiet, sombre with the air of impending death. It determines it path too - a train full of businessmen would go to the CBD, a train of vacationers will head to the beach.
Such is the transient nature of the train itself, that its makeup may change from station to station! Yet, passage through each station would leave its mark in a way, like the rebellious kids it carried would leave its scrawls on its seats; its carriage of students might find forgotten text written or hastily scrawled love declarations. Markings of the passage of life. Indeletable, always. Some may be forgotten, or faded off by time. Yet, it has factored the train's makeup at a point of time, and it lies forever in its own history.
The train moves on, ever redefined by its new passengers, yet never truely free of its former ones. I look back at the tracks, at the past stations in Life, and wonder what kind of train I was, what kinda train I am? Passengers and stations past moulded the way I do certain things. Some stations changed the tracks I now follow, some stations caused me to stall and change directions. It is amazing, how through it all I am still what I am, yet infinitely different.
What lies ahead I wonder? I look back at my past tracks, and I see signs that He who laid them will continue them. All I do is follow what is laid.
Yes, we have free choice; I can choose to stall, go off the rails, or change directions. The rails are laid, but they can always be relaid. Yet ultimately, I rest on His rails. The train has to go to rest at the end terminus. If it is faulty, it will need the repair of the Mechanic. If it has fallen off track it will know after a while cos its wheels will start to spark. In truth it seems like our choice is quite limited, but yet which train wishes to be discarded by the roadside? Which train wishes to be left forever forgotten, at some wayward station? Persist in your path, and the rails will become smoother, and all answers will come when we reach the end Terminus.
This train had seen so much ups and down. Yet one thing it hangs on to, is that if it follows the rails, it will always reach home. Many a times it nearly went off the rails, many a times it had to be repaired when it broke down at the station. Yet, onward it proceeds, by day and by night. As it travels along Life, it picks up more carriages, some light and some heavy. Yet all these add to its stature - all these factor in who comes onboard and who doesn't. When will all this stop it truly wonder. What is the meaning of all these? Tired wheels, and lonely helmsmen, the train long for a refreshing overhaul by the Mechanic, and to seek rest and company at the nearest hangar. Perhaps it will get its wish, a rest for the journey ahead. Perhaps it will get to meet others. Yet perhaps it will have to travel to another town for another station, before a hangar is in sight again. Perhaps, perhaps , perhaps.
Lessons learnt from station past:
Money, status and power is a potent combination that definitely kills. Fixation on it renders your rails askew and puts too much stress on your engines; sure spell of disrailment. It consumes from within, poisons the passengers and causes quarrels and fights. Portents of wealth draws all the wrong crowd as well, and in the crowd discernment is usually lost. True, money is indeed the lubricant that causes motion, yet lubricants should never be used as fuel. A train running just on that will break down. And when it does, none of its poisoned passengers will bother to stop and call for help. They will just wait and hop onto the next money train. Or transit to a bigger, more luxurious one.
Bitter tracks now lie behind, this train has left that oil spill that caused it to stall. Far from recovery, its going is still weak. It knows it needs an overhaul now, and lurches on to find the Mechanic. In search for renewal....
It was a very long dream, stretched across a few hours. I saw a network of rails, some old fashioned, some high tech and cool... A great pattern of life, each angle a different flavour. It is amazing what my mind churns out in partial slumber!
In my dreams, I came upon this thought:
As we lead out life, it is as a train starting from a terminus... it will pass through many others along its way, some stations great and small, rich or poor, significant or otherwise.
At every station that it paused to stop, passengers would come and passengers go. It is the passengers that determine the makeup of the train itself - if it is predominantly youthful, the train would be noisy and probably vandalised. If it is predominantly old, the train would be quiet, sombre with the air of impending death. It determines it path too - a train full of businessmen would go to the CBD, a train of vacationers will head to the beach.
Such is the transient nature of the train itself, that its makeup may change from station to station! Yet, passage through each station would leave its mark in a way, like the rebellious kids it carried would leave its scrawls on its seats; its carriage of students might find forgotten text written or hastily scrawled love declarations. Markings of the passage of life. Indeletable, always. Some may be forgotten, or faded off by time. Yet, it has factored the train's makeup at a point of time, and it lies forever in its own history.
The train moves on, ever redefined by its new passengers, yet never truely free of its former ones. I look back at the tracks, at the past stations in Life, and wonder what kind of train I was, what kinda train I am? Passengers and stations past moulded the way I do certain things. Some stations changed the tracks I now follow, some stations caused me to stall and change directions. It is amazing, how through it all I am still what I am, yet infinitely different.
What lies ahead I wonder? I look back at my past tracks, and I see signs that He who laid them will continue them. All I do is follow what is laid.
Yes, we have free choice; I can choose to stall, go off the rails, or change directions. The rails are laid, but they can always be relaid. Yet ultimately, I rest on His rails. The train has to go to rest at the end terminus. If it is faulty, it will need the repair of the Mechanic. If it has fallen off track it will know after a while cos its wheels will start to spark. In truth it seems like our choice is quite limited, but yet which train wishes to be discarded by the roadside? Which train wishes to be left forever forgotten, at some wayward station? Persist in your path, and the rails will become smoother, and all answers will come when we reach the end Terminus.
This train had seen so much ups and down. Yet one thing it hangs on to, is that if it follows the rails, it will always reach home. Many a times it nearly went off the rails, many a times it had to be repaired when it broke down at the station. Yet, onward it proceeds, by day and by night. As it travels along Life, it picks up more carriages, some light and some heavy. Yet all these add to its stature - all these factor in who comes onboard and who doesn't. When will all this stop it truly wonder. What is the meaning of all these? Tired wheels, and lonely helmsmen, the train long for a refreshing overhaul by the Mechanic, and to seek rest and company at the nearest hangar. Perhaps it will get its wish, a rest for the journey ahead. Perhaps it will get to meet others. Yet perhaps it will have to travel to another town for another station, before a hangar is in sight again. Perhaps, perhaps , perhaps.
Lessons learnt from station past:
Money, status and power is a potent combination that definitely kills. Fixation on it renders your rails askew and puts too much stress on your engines; sure spell of disrailment. It consumes from within, poisons the passengers and causes quarrels and fights. Portents of wealth draws all the wrong crowd as well, and in the crowd discernment is usually lost. True, money is indeed the lubricant that causes motion, yet lubricants should never be used as fuel. A train running just on that will break down. And when it does, none of its poisoned passengers will bother to stop and call for help. They will just wait and hop onto the next money train. Or transit to a bigger, more luxurious one.
Bitter tracks now lie behind, this train has left that oil spill that caused it to stall. Far from recovery, its going is still weak. It knows it needs an overhaul now, and lurches on to find the Mechanic. In search for renewal....
It was a very long dream, stretched across a few hours. I saw a network of rails, some old fashioned, some high tech and cool... A great pattern of life, each angle a different flavour. It is amazing what my mind churns out in partial slumber!
posted by Zachary Shim | 1:11 pm
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