This is a little piece of insight I received from the PERMATA (PETRONAS Management Training) camp I recently had in Casa Rachado, Port Dickson, from the 18th to the 22nd of June, 2007. Tell me what you think about it.
How many doors are there in your life? Think about it. How many doors have you seen in your life that you can think about? Perhaps you remember the crib door from your youth - or the great big glass doors at the office where your dad worked. Or that ominous wooden door that leads into the examination hall where you did your SPM.
Think about all the doors in your life. Perhaps when you entered varsity life from high school, the change of pace came to you as a liberation. That's one door - the door to a new stage in your life. Or maybe you made a change in yourself one day, something for the better - another door, the door to positive change.
What is a door for? What is its purpose? Most would say security, or privacy. It guarantees your safety (most of the time). When the lock is broken, it feels as if even the merest wind will push it open. You can't sleep at night, knowing your privacy is not as guaranteed as it was before, when the lock worked.
A door might also serve to restrict access sometimes, and also to provide a first impression to new visitors. When a wooden door is old or broken, some people use it as firewood. Others use it as a raft. More creative people draw and spray it with graffiti, giving it new life as an art canvas.
Then think of what we normally do to doors. When we're in a bad mood, we slam the door. At times we release our anger on the door. We punch, kick, bang, bash, hammer, scrape and tear at the door. We clobber it relentlessly till we need to catch our breaths and take a look at the damage we've done. Then remorsefully, we step away and return to our lives, slightly less pressured than before.For all that it has done throughout its life for you, it meets its end in a way that is cruel and uncaring.
Think of the one door in your life. The one door that provides you with security and comfort. Privacy, even. The one door you can't sleep at night for, knowing that it doesn't work as well as before, or is slightly spoiled. The door that protects you despite everything you do to it in anger.
Think about it. When you were young, one door bore you into this earth, and watched with tearful eyes and radiant smiles as it cradled you for the first time. This door ran its fingers over your head, cooing gently as you gazed at this new world around you. And somehow, your instincts told you this door was the one responsible for your life.
The door watched as you learned to walk and talk. It gave gentle encouragement to you every step of the way, and protected you fiercely from that which might harm you. In the dark of night, when a lone mosquito sought you as prey, the door did not just chase it away, but crushed it that it may never return to hurt you again.
As you entered school for the first time, this door fawned over every inch of you, fussing over your uniform and books and hair. You cried when the door brought you to this strange new place full of other children just like you. And though the door might not say anything at times, it prayed for you silently each time you were away from home. It prayed that you may find new friends and gain much knowledge. The door waits for you till you come home, cupping your cheek and helping you with your bag. It asks, "How was your first day at school?"
Gradually you grew bigger and bigger. The door continued to look after you as you progressed from primary to secondary. How proud it was of you! It shuttled you back and forth, providing you with the best things it could give - all for your sake. You grew into a useful person, learning more and more with each passing day.
Soon, the door realizes that time has passed so quickly, and you move on to the new daunting world of varsity life. How would you cope on your own? it wondered. It cried as the day drew near for you to leave home for the next stage in your life. The door watched as you left, tears brimming in its eyes and fear and worry lodged deep in its heart.
And everyday you were away, whether you were studying or hanging out or even blogging, this one door prayed for your safety and health. It prayed that you may aspire to even greater heights, and that you may continue to receive all the best things while you were not home. It prayed for you, and even in the wee hours of the night, the door woke to lucid dreams, sweat beading on its forehead, but it still prayed even as it wept as it realized you were not home, but away in your new place.
And it is this same door we kick and punch and scream at when we are angry. We hate it at times for not understanding us. We slam it when the mood strikes us. And when this door grows old, we throw it out with the trash, some people even using it for firewood. For all that it has done throughout its life for you, it meets its end in a way that is cruel and uncaring.
By now, you would have realized that this door is actually symbolically representing your parents. Think about all that the door has done for you. Think back about what you have done in return. And think about all that you will do for this door in future. Will you savor and love this door for all eternity? Or will you consign it to the bonfire and leave it to burn by itself in the night?
Think about it.
~verus rara avis~
4 mad rant(s):
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*sniff-sniff....
Mucho touching my friend...
And as the venerable Mr.Burns would put it...
~EXCELLENT~
;)
P.S. Welcome Back!
Touching, thought-provoking. One thing though, the angle of door in the picture is distracting in a bad way. Bad composition of photograph... Otherwise, really really good article. Love it!
EXCELLENT! Indeed it's insightful as you put it in your message.
We ought to be thankful that our doors are strong and sturdy. There are people out there whose doors are hollow and crumple once it's hit just once, offering no shelter to the one behind it. There are people whose doors rot as time goes by.
For such reasons, let us be thankful for our parents, and let us pray that those who are not as lucky as we are.
Glad you're back Maverick. Your post is really good. It's one of the best essay I've read about parents. I'm sure all of us have been writing about parents before we could even hold a pencil properly. This one stands out in the crowd of millions.
Your essay is a fitting tribute to all those parents who sacrifice so much for their children e.g., my parents. Their only wish is to see their children succeed and appreciate their love. If only every parent is like that and their children are filial achievers, we'll have a utopia.
~multum in parvo~