I had woken up today upset about my recent test score. Yes I passed but it was average. My watchword was excellence in all one does so naturally, I was devastated. So I brooded and moped around the house and, much to my supposed rebellion, chose to not study. Yup, not one book was read! And I couldn’t pray too, at least not with my mouth. I couldn’t form the words.
So imagine my shock when at 9pm that same day, I received news that my fellow mate in UI was dead. Needless to say I was stuck in a rut. A rut all-too-known. The numb rut. And in such state, I began to ponder on life. Really, is it not because I’m alive that I can be so ungrateful as to a “measly” pass?! That I allowed it consume my thoughts, disturb my day and much worse, my prayers?
Amazing how the cold hands of death on a known fellow can shake one so vigorously and put one in check. Hadn’t I simply wasted the whole day, a day this young man, if given the chance, would take so gladly? Of course, I mourn this known stranger for even in his death, he has taught me gratitude, what I call the art of not complaining.