Just this day I attended the burial ceremony of a person nearest to me. I let my deep down grief wordless for her sudden deceased.
I didn’t control my curiosity which I was tempted to ask myself;
“Why do we live if we still die?”
“What is life after death?”
“Is spirit is real?”
I tried to drench over my entire thoughts. In the journey of drenching myself into the deepest part of my curiosity, another question pirating the innocent cerebrum of mine;
“Why am I here?”
At this time, it sounds so personal because I suddenly specifically referring to myself. It is hard to figure out why am I really here? Providing the straightforward answer is an arduous task for it compromise between divinity and humanity. We have to admit that, we, as human beings were still tried to penetrate the massive wall of curiosity about life and death, about the existence of spirit after death and about which part of the hemisphere did the hell and heaven can be found. But, did we try to ask ourselves why we are here?
For twenty-seven years of combating about life over this dubious humankind, I encountered different concepts about life and death. Those concepts were obfuscated due to the collision between the spiritual and the scientific point-of-views. You knew that it is hellacious to point out who is right and who is wrong.
But at this moment, I am currently living; currently founding memories of myself for the people around me. My laugh, my love, my voice, my tears, my stupidity, my screams, and everything about me, either goodness or badness, were all silently creating memories on the unconscious part of themselves. If someday, this tangible soul of mine surrendered to where it should be place, my memories were already rooted on their heart and mind.
As of now, I should say I am here because I’ve given a chance for yielding my memories to someone around me. But I knew it is not the real reason why I am here. My purpose in this world is still unknown… and it still uncertain if when I able to find the answer…