“At the Yǻyuʒēt N-Zobá”
“At the Yǻyuʒēt N-Zobá”
Recently, there have been a lot of disturbances. Having settled one, two others have arisen, and people are threatening to punish me for an act of benevolence, neglecting my cries for change and rationality. I have been coerced to give up my individuality for obedience, for irrational subscription to rules. My actions have been denounced as “inappropriate” by those in power, with their tentacles of compliance enveloping me and my peers. A place that I prayed was for education has turned out to be for indoctrination and slavery. My heart has been imbued with vehemence and rebellion, ablaze with the will to change, but I keep asking myself: what is the rational action to match my Cerebrist – rational, open, and aware – ideal? Is it to revolt completely? Is it to deplorably yet regrettably conform? Is it to become a recluse? My mind has been in turmoil and entropy. Serendipitously, a friend invited me to the Yǻyuʒēt N-Zobá.
In the morning. We walked the narrow path by the lake. The moss, spread like paint; the bushes, compact as silk; the trees, luxurious as cloth. A green barrier hid the sky, the ground dark as at dusk. We held an umbrella together, as the rain was being poured down, and large droplets punctuated our talk, bombarding the umbrella. The rain was a cacophony, along with the waving leaves and our chit-chatting voices. We put our hands on each other’s shoulders, lest we slip on the moss. Sometimes, we had to shove away or jump over branches in our way. I was confused and agitated – why did we come here, to a secluded, isolated place?
After quite a long time, the environment remained, and I increasingly sought to leave, my feet slowing gradually. But, at the end of the cave-like path, light emerged. We picked up our pace.
On the right, there was a tower. After the tower, there was the lake. We leaned on the stone wall by the water. The water, green as emeralds; the sediments, fading like gradients; the mountains, grey as if veiled. As we looked further into the distance, the water changed into white so smoothly like colours on a rainbow, until eventually it matched the sky, as if the mountains separated a mirror.
The breeze stroked my hair back. On the water, swells confronted the land, whispering to the shore as the ripples were weaved into a web by the triangular bay. The rain impacted the water, with beads emerging and ripples radiating. We trotted out a slice of bread, grating it into bits, and tossed the bits into the lake. Fish approached the surface, jumping and weaving even more sophisticated ripples on the web. The trees above us and the flowers along the coast disposed of tiny leaves and blossoms into the ripples. They floated. They went up and down and back and forth. Sometimes, they would dart towards the shore, as if trying to land, but the ripples would instantaneously bring them back.
Then, there was a loud horn. A ship docked on our left, its turbines and body sparking great ripples, toppling the leaves. Thus came a thought.
The friend by me spoke, “In winter, the lake freezes. My mother was a fisherwoman, so she'd bring us all onto the boat and cruise through the half-frozen ice, shattering it and making it to the river, and we'd spend the winter in the town by the sea. In summer, there were sometimes droughts. We'd also take shelter in the town, and those who stayed would have their boats aground. They'd never leave – we'd told them to though!” he laughed, “One time we had to come back for some documents, and me and my brother would play with the branches, rocks, and dead fish on the lake floor. Good old times.” It was thus as if lightning struck my mind.
Life is like the lake, and humans are like the leaves on it. Alas! If humans had been like ships – if humans could create their own ripples, if humans could navigate life their way, if humans could be their own captain, if humans had been the Superior – they'd have been independent, non-conformist, and strong-willed. They'd have solved problems, not evaded them; they'd have leveraged their cerebrum, a gift that no other creatures own; they'd have accustomed their feelings to their thinking system, not let them control it; they'd have marched towards their vision; they'd have partaken in discourse so that they could correct their routes. Alas! If humans had been like ships – if humans could audaciously march out of danger, if humans wouldn't be left dry on the lake floor, if humans could find their haven – they'd have been gallant, resilient, and prudent. They'd have found where they belong; they'd not have fallen prey to manipulation; they'd have embraced the virtue of proactivity; they'd have thought for themselves. Alas! If humans had not been the despicable Inferior – if more had been the virtuous Superior – could you fathom the gains we would have! Could you fathom the boons of rational change, the fruits of logicality, and the epiphany of the cerebrum! If more had realised what they rationally crave, none would have suffered in oppressive, in the Tyranny of the Herd! I understand now – I ought to be a ship on my own route, uninhibited and free. I shall ponder and think, then do and act. I shall learn, both as a teacher and a student. Above all, I shall create my own ripples. I shall be the Superior, striving to abscond from the Inferior and, most paramount, refine myself. I shall seize my time – the century – to shape the world. I shall embrace life, and I shall embrace my potential as a human, as a possessor of the cerebrum. It shall leverage the freedom I deserve with responsibility so that I can endure myself. It matters not whether the world challenges us; it only matters whether we challenge the world. I shall think what I speak and speak what I think; I shall think what I talk and talk what I think; I shall, indubitably, think what I do and do what I think.
Only through the hardships we transcended could I arrive at the conclusion. It is with this in mind that I finish this piece.
