Dear Dead Poets,

Dear friend(s),

Yes, my friend you, the one welling with insecurities, uncertainties and fears. The little girl and boy trapped and cloistered in her limitations of the mind. I have an advice for you – go on, go and take that adventure and quest that you have always dreamt of. Go on, fly.

Nobody is stopping you, but your mind. Our little minds are an aegis for the unknown, a fatuous substitute for our fears: such easy preys to the hawks of excuses, of the “I couldn’t, I wouldn’t and I shouldn’t. We are in the prime of our youths, wings infant, soft and fluttering with all the potential and hopes of the world. The chimerical are real, only if you dare to believe in it. The sword in the stone, the warm toasty Butterbeer and Firewhiskey, the scattered rings, the sailors’ songs of promised adventures – they reside in you, have always been.

But there is a catch; all the promised adventures and quests can only arrive if you seek them with your heart. Only when you free the monasteries of your mind. Only when you actively pursue your Holy Grail. And remember, not all adventures turned out to be heroic, marked with dazzling zealously and achievement., and that most quests had never succeeded; the Holy Grail was never found and the bullions of gold sank to the deep dark, lost to the endless sea.  Do not cry though; never do, because the Holy Grail was never the rewards of adventures and quests. The camaraderie: friends, mates, companions - the elite fellowships, Dead Poets Society and the Marauders – and the merry laughter and shed tears and marked dolorousness and the drawn adumbrated blueprints of our future, those elusive, beautiful memories are the rewards of life, of shared adventures. And when you grow old and frail, let the memories fill your swelling heart, let the warmth and rush of familiarity embrace you, let the love you have experienced transpire and fill every pores of your soul.

So, here I am, my friend, standing at the beginning - the prime of our youth – timorous with fears and uncertainties for our future, clinging and hoping for the rough vague blueprint to turn stark clear and bright. Our maps may never be written, may never be drawn for the demarcations are fluid and always changing, for our perceptions of the world will always be changing. We will always be uncertain.

I will always be the little girl, uncertain, wide with fear, afraid to offer my hands for fear of rejection and afraid to walk the adventure alone. But now, with my shivering cold hand, I offer them and offer you an adventure where we will battle the demons and monsters, where we will laugh at our own silliness, cook under the glow of the stars, where we will cry and split our knees and break our hearts, where we will eventually grow old, tough and loved.

I am afraid, of the downs of life, and so are you, but with you, my friends, all the ups make the down tolerable and beautiful.

So come along, friend(s). Let's fly together. 

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(Image source: violentwavesofemotion)