Cold Tiles of Truth

Some nights when I’m lying down in my bed and letting my mind wander free, I realize tears running down my cheeks. But it’s weird…these tears don’t come from something that happened that made me sad, or mad, or even angry. They just seem to appear out of nowhere….and so I usually ask myself questions as if I’m the only thing visible in the dark silence, “why is life so complicated? Why do I have to make it so hard for myself?” Often I think about school and why I couldn’t just shoot for the “average” student—“why do force myself to do all the extra work when I could get perfectly good grades without doing it?” And since probably more than half of my life right now is devoted to sports, I usually ask myself questions like, “Why are you spending your weekend trying to become a “perfect” pitcher when you could easily let the other two girls on the team do all the work?” It’s almost as if I force myself to go beyond just a base player in softball, but to devote my Saturdays into doing all this extra work that seems to do nothing but give me cramps, bruises, and get me extremely tired. Often I fall asleep thinking, “what’s the point?”

As I’m reading Ishmael Beah’s memoire, “A Long Way Gone” it not only made me feel incredibly mad at myself for thinking about my life being hard but it helped me in my understanding to why I must push myself so hard in everything that I do. “A Long Way Gone” is the true story of Ishmael Beah who became an unwilling boy soldier during the war in Sierra Leone. When he was twelve years old his village was attacked which left Beah, his brother, and his friends wandering village to village in search of food and shelter. This becomes a day-to-day struggle both in their hearts and physically to survive. Although I’m not that far into the story, I find it so incredibly unreal that such a thing could happen to a twelve year old—though it’s filled with heartbreaking honesty.

On page 54 when Beah is all alone in the woods and letting his mind wander free, he begins to think about his father saying, “If you are alive, there is hope for a better day and something good to happen. If there is nothing good left in the destiny of a person, he or she will die.” However this quote is not where I got hit by a strong realization. It’s what Beah had written after that that really stuck with me. “Those words became the vehicle that drove my spirit forward and made it stay alive.” In life—or anyone’s life really, you have something—big or small that keeps you going. This reminded me of a book I just recently finished a couple months ago, “The Art of Racing in the Rain” by Garth Stein. It’s told from the point of view of a dog named Enzo. At one point in the book he figures out that life, like racing, isn’t simply about going fast. Using the techniques needed on the race track, one can successfully navigate the vehicle even when there are bumps along the way. For me, I think that I could end up in a dangerous situation wanting everything to be perfect and all, but I guess that’s just a part of who I am….pushing myself hard in everything is what gives my life purpose. If I were to stop pitching, play a piano piece “at my level” and start writing blog posts that meet standards, sure I would still get good grades and play good music….but for me that’s not enough. However if I were in Beah’s shoes and had lost basically everything—even my family—I think that I would also hold onto my memories and find even the tiniest things in life to keep me going so I wouldn’t slowly fade away like black watercolor when it hits paper—so I would still have purpose in my life to keep going with a linger of hope for tomorrow.

Later on page 69 Ishmael Beah writes, “One of the most unsettling things about my journey, mentally, physically, and emotionally, was that I wasn’t sure when or where it was going to end.” This reminds me of my first cross country race at the beginning of the year. I felt like I just kept running and running and at each strait-away I thought it was the finish but it never was. I felt like it was going on forever and would never stop which made me want to slow down for a while. I am not the type of person who gives up easily but I have to say, that was probably one of the closest times I have been to giving up in a long time. Then Beah writes, “To survive each passing day was my goal in life. At villages we managed to find some happiness by being treated to food or fresh water.” Again, Beah is finding even the smallest things in his struggle to survive to keep him from a drooping sunflower lacking a drop of water.

If I were in Ishmael Beahs situation, I think I would also hold onto the little things throughout my daily struggle for survival to keep my burning soul alive. Within the depth of this story I seem to have discovered the cold tiles of heartbreaking truth and meaning. I have also found the fire burning in my soul and the wood that keeps it burning red, roaring, and alive. The wood may be hard to get and may give me many scratches while gathering, but if it’s what keeps me going in life, the scratches are worth it.