Watching a historical documentary, where the video clips are all black-and-white movies. They are of poor quality, grainy, and filled with unpredictably dancing vertical lines typical of old films. Sometimes, the clips are abruptly cut, and one scene changes to another in the blink of an eye. A strange sense of nostalgia arises. Maybe it’s a sign of one growing older when old times begin to feel more appealing than before.
The documentary describes people’s lives in a city. Their movements seem curiously determined and straightforward as they speed toward unknown destinations. Who were all those ordinary human beings walking along the crowded streets? Where were those people going to? What were they waiting for, firmly standing by train stations wearing their long black coats? What were their names? Who did they love? Who loved them? No one knows. None of those people are alive anymore. It’s doubtful that no one’s alive who would remember those human beings in their black-and-white representations. All those remarkable individual lives are now entirely and utterly forgotten, their virtues long gone and personal vices forgiven. Everything buried by the compassionate sands of time. And here, step after another, colorless, they still move forward on the greyish tarmac road in the documentary.
The only thing left of them is the content of their present moment captured on poor-quality film. They seem to walk through that moment just like people today walk through their present moments, with haste and hurry to arrive at some destination. So much so that they forget their only reality, the one step being taken right now. Instead, they seem to speed in their thoughts faster than their feet can move, their inner motives being very much alike to the ones people harbor within nowadays. When perceiving historical representations closely—watching documentaries, browsing through photographs, and reading books—nothing seems truly changed in human capabilities and the nature of the thinking mind. Even the most ancient thinkers who put their thoughts on papyrus, parchment, and clay tablets seem to reflect the very same condition of the human mind as today. The mind engulfed in uncontrollable floods of compulsive and compelling thoughts is as deceptive as ever, leading to an unconscious escape from the present moment.
Despite technical advancements, all the hustle and fuss of human lives will eventually shift into a quickly fleeting black-and-white video clip of poor quality. Everyone will ultimately be forgotten and forgiven. No one will truly know the content of this very moment in a hundred years. No matter how great a dent one makes in the universe, maybe achieving great things and fueling change in the world, no one will truly know who one is after a few heartbeats. Every human being is a hand that writes and then quickly moves away. Just like those millennia-old hands that left their scribblings on papyrus.
As one observes the present moment as it is, not lingering in the past and worrying about the future, one can make a home in the present moment. Yes, that home might include some pain and suffering. And yes, things might not always be as one would prefer. Nevertheless, the present moment is the only home that stands on solid rock instead of the sands of time. That home offers shelter, protection, and assurance that nothing else will last than the essence of the present moment. This essence has never changed and will remain as it is. Content might shift and change, yet only the everlasting context remains. This very moment holds salvation within, and it's accessible at all times for every single being.
One just has to look with clear eyes, listen with silent ears, and feel with an open heart.
