Due Introduction - The First Dance

SLOW DANCE by David L. Weatherford

Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask "How are you?"
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

This poem was introduced to me by Ms Jenny John, an English lecturer in UiTM i think sometime in the year 2002 or 2003. Back then, I was in my 2nd or 3rd year reading law. Ms John taught us English Literature, a subject which I've always had great interest in (compared to boring law books). Ms John explained, after reading out the poem to us, that the said poem was written by a terminally ill 7 years old girl named Amy Bruce. We were surprised to learn how Amy, being such a young girl, a child, could come up with such a mature and beautiful piece of literary work! It surely did puts extra emotional icings to the said poem and I remember it till today. It is only much later that I learn the author was not Amy but one David L. Weatherford. He was not terminally ill but an adult male child psychologist. Stories about Amy being the author was created by some people who are keen in contributing to internet hoaxes.

Be it Amy or David, I'm still glad that this poem was introduced to me. It reminded me to take a step back and ponder over the delightfulness of the many little things that used to be able to make me feel happy. It made me stop to think, be thankful and most importantly breathe. Sometimes I got too caught up with in the fast pace of working life that I forgot to breathe, properly. I took the sweetness of the freshly cut grass, the warm and comforting smell of home and the delicious aroma of mom's cooking, all for granted.

The above poem inspired me to name this humble blog of mine as Slow Dance. The title may be the same, but I'm slow dancing to a different tune than that of Mr. Weatherford or Amy (for that matter). Most of the time I dance alone. Perhaps in time, there will be someone who would dance with me, to our tune.

I do not expect any claps nor praises at the end of each of my dances. I don't even expect pleasant thoughts from anyone as well. Perhaps my blog might end up being the most ignored blog in history. Be that as it may, my dances are my thoughts, which I hope could soothe the wandering hearts of those who may be feeling the same way as I do.

Let's dance.

Depression - Choice or Consequence?

They say that happiness is not a result but a choice. Take it from Abraham Lincoln's "A person will be just about as happy as they make up their minds to be" or Marcus Aurelius's "Life is what your thoughts make it."

The same should, without any bias, applies to unhappiness. Is it really a choice? From when does the choice starts? Can choices inevitably become consequences? It would seem that choices are there in everything we do. From choosing to hit that snooze alarm button in the morning all the way to choosing to set the alarm time before we hit the sack. How can happiness be a choice when you choose to ignore the alarm and end up fighting with your siblings/housemates/roomates over who gets to use the bathroom next, end up encroaching on peak hours on the road and having to endure the bumper to bumper crawl traffic, missing the nearest parking space and inevitably late for work/appointment/meeting. Can you still choose to be happy after getting "the look" from your boss, "the bitching" from your subordinates and "the speech" from your next-cubicle neighbor?

Apparently motivators would argue that you can (doesn't necessarily mean that they believe so). How about people like me who doesn't believe in motivational books/speeches? We believe that the whole "choice" thingy, is a whole load of crap topped with generous vanilla icing. - totally indigestible and unacceptable.

We don't choose. We simply follow the flow of things. We follow the flow of life. To choose (and be able to choose) something against the natural flow of the inevitable would mean to be in denial. Let us not choose something, which we know deep down in our guts, that can't fit in right. Let us embrace the despair, frustration, angst, loneliness and woe, in view of letting it go once we find no use to dwell in it any further. To put it bluntly, stop bullshitting yourselves.

I am embracing it. I will eventually let go. But when? That I'll have to choose.