Bzzzz. A tussled head rises from the soft pillow, and groping hands reach toward the persistent noise. Bzzz. The hands begin an even faster search, flaying back and forth as a sleepy form rises further from its cocoon of downy blankets.Bzzz...Beep. At last, the hands have found their mark. The form relaxes.
A sudden effort sends the blankets flying.
A girl emerges. She's of average height, perhaps 5'2", with a rounder form. Lips that curl up at the slightest hint of joy. Bright blue eyes that shine as bright as a full moon, with flecks of grief, love, peace, sorrow, and sympathy sprinkled throughout. You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes. Hers are a myriad of emotions swirled into a sphere...a rainbow of feelings stretched across a glassy sky. The tears hid behind them speak of great regret and remorse, but it is not their turn to present themselves today. Today is a good day. Yes, she thinks. Today is a wonderful day. Today is the day to open up the portals of mortal knowledge and pour myself into the depth of brilliant human minds...to seek truth, to inquire after wisdom...what better day could this day be than this? What better way to spend the fleeting minutes...days..seconds...of my life than to pursue what is right and just? She shakes her head, and startles the hazelnut-creme curls attached. They dance a little, intertwining with each other, as if to celebrate their own excitement at such an exciting day. There will never be a day such as this one again, they whisper, and they are most definitely right. There will be future days, and there has been past days, and there may be an infinite amount of time left to open and explore, but today will never, ever, ever come again. Ever. That is why it is so important that we earthlings celebrate each day as if it is our first and last--a day of rejoicing for this special gift from the universe.
The choices she makes today may determine her destiny--even the world's destiny, perhaps.
(Perhaps you think I am being hyperbolic. On the contrary, I am being realistic. What if on October 22, 1879, Thomas Edison had slept in and watched Keeping Up With the Kardashions instead getting himself over to the lab? We would never have had the first successful light bulb that lasted over 13.5 hours. The day is not meant for us to simply watch others choose their destiny (albeit unfortunate ones perhaps), rather the day is for us to make our own destiny. Perhaps some of the world's brightest minds--even you or me--are not to be found in the lab, in the missionary field, by the surgeon's table, or in the slums of India, but instead sitting on a couch eating less-than-healthy food and watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy. Have we as a world digressed to the point where we are more willing to watch someone else do something than enjoy the soul-satisfying, heart-swelling purpose and motivation that comes from actually doing something ourselves? Where is that motivation? What if Nikola Tesla had been content with Edison's direct current electrical powerhouses and simply watched and marveled at what another human could do? What if he had not used his own mind and intelligence to speak out against the inefficiency? Our world would have lost the gift of alternating current, and more importantly, one of the most brilliant inventors known to mankind. Indeed, we do hold great power in what we choose to make of each day.)
The girl has great potential. The whole world waits in nervous anticipation as she goes through every day. Some days, she chooses wisely. Other days, she is foolish with her precious time and the world groans knowing at what could have been. But she is learning. Just like today.
At least she got out of bed.
Great heavens, cries the girl. It's 7:15 and clothes have not even been picked. Frantic hands with shimmering nails race through shirts, stopping at a warm, thick sweater that promises comfort. Heavy leggings follow, and a Persian scarf adds a flame of color to her already rosy cheeks. She pulls on white boots--boots that Alaskans would grin at, but all the same keep her toes feeling like they're next to a crackling Wisconsin fire-place. She's ready. Am I really ready? She thinks. Ready for what? How can I say I'm ready if I don't know what's coming? Her eyes flicker in thought, as she ruminates...perhaps she should not consider herself so prepared. No, she decides. I am not ready for everything. How could I be? I must simply be prepared to accept this day as it comes--to revel in its joy and unexpected surprises. I must laugh when I feel joy bubbling out of my soul. I must sing when floodgates of emotion overwhelm. I must cry when the sorrow and pain of this grief-stricken world is too hard to bear. But whatever happens, I must always end the day with the knowledge that I have lived the day with feeling...that I have touched the spring of human emotions and sentiments and came away thirstier than before. That I have embraced the events I cannot control, that I have accepted that which no one can prevent, and that I have finally understood the futility of turning my heart into stone.
I must feel.
And then I must act.
And the girl walks out into the blazing light of an early morning sun.
