SOL: Stanzas of Life

A little over nineteen years ago, I was born in Troy, Michigan. My life began. Okay, I don’t want to start so cliche. It’s hard to reflect on the beginning of your life. I wish I had some recollection of being born, but no one ever remembers their birth. It’s difficult to comprehend the beginning of human life due to the inability for human reasoning and contemplation to exist at the moment we exit our mother’s womb. The comfort and warmth inside our mother sharply disappears into the bright-lighted, cold room of the hospital.

We all enter society in a unique way and fashion, mostly in the personal care of medical professionals and physicians working in a hospital setting. Contrary, there are often children born in other places of the world, with little guidance from doctors. Others, not mentioned, may never have the opportunity to see a physician in their entire life.

The way children are born and their entry into our hectic society is remarkable. I think of birth as a fashion runway. Childbirth is an extended journey with multiple obstacles, existing for roughly nine months. Before the sculpted models present their bodies to the world, there are hours of rehearsal and make-up appointments. During the preparation and anticipation of the new child, the mother’s body physically alters to care for the newborn. As the days are counted and minutes tick before the show, physicians and producers prep the equipment. Finally, after countless contractions, the child punches their golden ticket into society.

Newborns all share one characteristic: curiosity-to see and absorb the new environment around them. Altering voices, shifting colors, and fuzzy blankets encompass the child’s first few months. These critical days for the newborn are often surrounded by the nurturing mother and intimate family. The welcoming of a new family member beholds the utmost importance and love. 

As one enters the world, we are left asking: “Does life have and serve a purpose?” Well, I hope so. I struggle to pinpoint a singular answer for human life’s purpose and meaning.

I think of life as pot of soil, filled with complex organic nutrients serving as a liaison for growth and movement. Does each nutrient serve a purpose? Or, does the collection of soil particles fulfill the ultimate quest for understanding human life? If we separated and filtered the soil, what would remain? A hopeless pile of minerals, or the beginning of a plant’s journey? A simple nitrogen atom is nothing by itself, just a periodic element with seven protons. But when you combine several nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium atoms, with a few other components, then we can say, soil does serve a purpose.

So what purpose does life serve? As I observe the seedlings sprout and break the soil’s upper limit, the notion of participating in a larger context, the mechanism of life, serves a higher purpose that we all can relate to.

Birth is remarkable. A journey that strives to reach and meet the true beholder.