“ One day, you will wake up and there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted…
…that, ranks among one of the worst things you could do to yourself in the pursuit of… “
My seat was three or maybe four chairs from the main aisle, and about five rows to the last seating row in the right seating section of the hall.
The chairs in this hall had a wooden frame structure and looked quite antique in appearance.
The upper resting part of the chairs was brown-forest colored and the seating part of the chairs was layered with soft cushioned foam, and covered with green colored leather fabric.
From the place I was seated in this hall, the angle of view would be far-sighted for the normal human eye to see full details of anyone at the front seating section because of the distance and the seating arrangements.
Besides, if you happened to be lacking in height by some few inches, that is, if you are not considered tall by the average standard of measurement (a nice way of saying someone is short), it would be practically impossible to catch a glimpse of someone at the fifth seating section on the left side of this hall.
Albeit, if you’d happened to be me in terms of height, eyesight and observatory instincts, you would have noticed something odd in this hall from such a distance (hey, not boasting, it’s my physical self em..).
A few minutes before this time, someone in the front section on the left side of this hall had raised a right hand up in slow motion – a few centimeters above the head in a very unusual way.
The raised hand looked masculine and the fingertips of this raised hand were spread apart unusually.
His fingers appeared to be curved-shaped with the exception of his thumb finger that somewhat stood straight and spaced sideways in the left direction with some few millimeters from the remaining four fingers which were facing the northeastern direction of the hall.
You’d have seen from my place of view the formed wrinkles and somewhat pulled-over folds of sagged skin on the fingers that were in the air, the bulged blood vein lines at the lower backside of his raised right hand and the stretched large blood vessels which ran across his hand.
His fingers appeared to be pointed forward with a rough approximate estimation of twenty-two degrees angle of inclination to his upper wrist joint, while his entire hand was slightly bent in the air, as vivid i can remember.
The hand in the air looked neat and his fingernails looked well manicured.
From my place in this hall to where he was seated, you cannot see his head due to the distance, but his raised right hand was unusual and striking in a hall filled with young to middle aged people.
Now, It’s been ten to fifteen seconds since his hand had been up in the air.
You’d have noticed the slight but visible incoherent shaking of his hand sideways, and the alternating movement of his fingers in a forward and backward direction as his hand went up further in the air.
I kept observing with a keen interest borne out of sheer curiosity.
And you’d have seen the shirt sleeve on his raised right arm.
From the look of his shirt sleeve combined with my fashion acumen, his shirt was kinda over-sized, maybe one and a half times of his actual size I’d guessed.
Nevertheless, you could still see his loosely brown dotted multicoloured shirt sleeve on his raised right hand gently slipped down.
Each section of the slipped down dress slightly ruffled against each other in piled layers down his raised arm.
Now, It’s almost a minute since this man’s hand have been up in the air.
No one gave attention to his raised hand or bothered.
The panelist at the front section of the hall cared less as they were buried in their long speech that was being read from the Protocol Book.
Really, if not because of the compulsory notion attached to attending this event, I bet ninety-eight percent of the people here would not have come.
The panelist is damn boring…I quipped to myself.
If you’d happened to be in this hall, you would have seen the different group of folks in boredom.
First group of folks were the ones glued to their Smartphone and often tapping on the phone screen – chatting, swiping pictures… and etcetera.
Folks who were not on their phones were slumped in their seats, restlessly staring at the bare roof ceiling.
I can’t remember any art drawing or pictures on the ceiling. Who knows what and how boredom could turn someone into…oops
Another group of folks dozed off in sleep and switched on in wake to intermittently inquire from their neighbors – “are we finished?” and dozing off back to their sleeping phase easily.
Yes, you never know how easy you could enjoy a sleep in an uncomfortable environment until you’ve being dead bored to your bones without any alternative…hum.
I think I belonged to this last group of folks who were just in-between, or maybe I took certain percentage share from all the groups at different times during this occasion…can’t really figure that out for now.
Now, it’s a minute and twenty-something seconds since this man’s hand have lingered in the air.
I had initially thought someone was trying to be funny, but with the hand still up in the air and the unique details of the raised hand, it struck me that this was not a joke as I had earlier presumed.
At this point in time, you could notice the pronounced shaking of his fingers, – his fingers were dancing weakly in uncoordinated motion.
Unexpectedly, someone near the man shouted in disgust, “Can’t you see? The old man wants to say something!”.
Another person around the man’s seating area voiced out too, “Let him speak”. Common!”
A lady shouted with a very thin voice from the adjacent seating area to my seating section, “the old man”.
Few seconds afterwards, spontaneous shouting erupted from various angle of the hall seating sections with different range of voices.
It provided a fun moment for everyone in the hall to break off from the daylong boring seminar.
“Old man…?” “What old man?”
“Really? “What is he doing here?”
“Is he okay?”
Most people in the hall queried each other in bewilderment and curiosity.
“Hey, which old man?”
The lady seated at my right side asked me with a puzzled face
“hmm…can’t say”,
I answered with a shrug and an indifferent facial expression.
During my conversation with this lady, someone behind my seating row pointed to the man’s direction, “Look there, an old man is seated over there.”
With the new developed scenario, everyone’s attention was drawn towards the seat direction of the man being called the “Old Man”.
Ahem! ahem! a loud throat clearing sound was heard from the direction of the so-called old man.
For some few seconds, there was dead silence in the hall as everyone was in rapt attention to see, hear or witness what is going to unfold.
“I came here in place of my grandson who was supposed to be here but could not make it because of a recurring allergy”, the old man stated in an introductory way.
His voice was a little coarse and deep, and all I could see from where I was seated was his hand and the movement of his fingers up in the air.
“You see, I have sat down here and I have listened to everything the panelists have read out for the past three to four hours or so. “
“I have looked around, and seeing many of your young faces, beautiful and bold looking people”.
His hand went down momentarily and went back up in the air as he continued to speak
“I hope I can give some life lessons that could be of immense benefits to you and that would rightly fit into the aim of this gathering.
What’s the worst thing you could do?
I mean what is the worst thing you could do to yourself as a person?
hmmm”
“I would be eighty-nine years old in about two months time. I have seen it all, and I have witnessed it as well.
Seating here with you brought back the memories,…the thought that you’ve got all the time and that your life is still in the future is one of the worst thing you could do or ponder…”
Ahem…he coughed slightly,
“ I can still remember the break-in period of my active life…take this from me, your time for genuine productivity is finite, it is limited.”
With intense deep voice and in a high voice pitch and somewhat of a ‘command’ tone he said,
“Get down on anything you plan for your life now
Start it now! Today is what you’ve got“
“You think there are ten thousand tomorrows?”
“One day, you will wake up and there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted“
One day you will think deeply and questioned yourself, where have all the time gone?
…one of the worst thing you could do to yourself. Imagine ”
“By then, you would have come to the realization of how fleeting this life could be.
Believe me, one day…”
Ahem, ahem, he coughed gently in a bid to clear his throat and to make his voice more audible.
“…one day, you will look back and ask yourself what have I done to myself all these while?
And one day you will figure it out
…what a worst thing you could do?”
“You see…your brain might be quite active, but the physical energy and passion you need to birth what you’ve always wanted to do might no longer be there…”
With his fingers closely wrapped together with the exception of his fore finger pointing in the air, making a signal of emphasis,
“…there something people of your age don’t often foresee, life slips by very fast.
Very fast” he slurred the word “very” emphatically.
“Ask your aged acquaintances to confirm my words…”
“You are all intellectuals, and I have just spoken to you the way I have always spoken to my grandson
Take it from me, soon…,
Two of his fingers pointed upwards while moving his hand back and forth in short-medium speed
He continued…
“…soon, your Old day would come…cherish this time of your life, enjoy the simple pleasures of life.
Laugh, love, explore and make a difference…”
“The worst thing you could do to yourself is missing out on your own life while waiting for the perfect time and perfect settings…”
Ahem! He cleared his throat, and at this time, his hand was no longer up in the air, and his voice quieted with these words…
“Embrace the discipline to create a bold agenda for yourself and the people you cared about, because one day, you might regret the moment you missed…”
“…one day, you will look back and realize the simple things you could have done to make it worthwhile.
That seems to be one of the worst things you could do to yourself, squander it all..”, he stated.
This so-called “Old Man’s” words, reverberated through the hall.
It sank down through my spine and I kept thinking along with his phrase… “the worst thing you could do to yourself…”
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The Worst Thing You Could Do To Yourself
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I hope this poetry or story or score or work helps stir your imagination, broaden your perspective & unlock the doors for your yet-unknowns.
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