Vanity of vanities!

One of those days when everything seems wrong: it’s Monday; none of the tasked assignments goes anywhere; you feel completely alone inside and outside of the cubical, deserted by both men and God. And it’s only 10AM in the morning.

But the sky outside is a pane of crystal blue, mocking me on with my gloom and doom relentlessly. Somehow, even the crisp air on a glorious Spring day lost its grip on me. I am under captive of a deep castaway and pang. Isolation has never troubled me; in fact, I have to be careful with this indulgence for fear it might steer me too far to return. It is clearly not the case today. The disappointment in both men and things has rendered me hopeless and thus sad.

Besides myself, there is none that knows me better than my mate, who always helpfully pointed out to me that I will never be happy. It takes one to know one, not to mention the 24 years of firsthand experience as his solid ground of testimony, therefore this allegation cannot be easily dismissed. I am, however, wondering if it is somewhat different this time. In the past “unhappiness” in either people or things, I have always managed to find outlet in the comfort of the other. i.e. I turn to work when “people” fail me or turn to people when work doesn’t work out. It may not cure me, but it alleviates and redirects.

Work-wise, the up and downs seem to swing to the downs altogether with frustrating obstacles such as deadlines that cannot be met, tasks with no redeeming quality and technical difficulties beyond my control. Meanwhile, I found no noble spirits worthy of my defection. I couldn’t help wondering: is this what Solomon, the all-wise king, moaned for in Eccleslastes: the ancient old sufferings from the desires that never satisfy? And yet the more mysterious question is: why is it others never seem to be affected by the same curse of futility and vanity of life? I am in awe at their ability in adapting any pestilence of life as my ear picks up their mechanical typing on the computer key pads, the light exchanges of conversation nearby and the blank faces in front of the PC screen. Do they not ache for the realization that “all is vanity and striving after wind” and tomorrow like yesterday and today brings nothing new to rectify this predicament?

It reminds me of being stuck in the traffic jam. While I huff and puff in frustration, the other drivers patiently sit and wait. Even in facing misfortunes such as heartaches, aging, even death, they move on without wavering. Such aloofness! If our fear and care determined our places in heaven, then I would have lost my reservation long ago. My head may reckon (most of the time) from the good Book and His foot prints on my life that I am heading there, but this deep groaning and restlessness inside says otherwise. Can one belong to Heaven and be so far away from heaven at the same time?

No, this morning I mourn not from the separation from my fellow men’s presence, but separation from their mindset, their immunity to melancholy. For one who resents to be anything ordinary, I wish nothing but to be in their midst. Then again, I wouldn’t
be able to appreciate the kinship, though excruciating yet dear, with someone like Solomon, whose revelation on grief that no one can match:

“All things are wearisome; Man is not able to tell it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor is the ear filled with hearing…. And I set my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly; I realized that this also is striving after wind, because in much wisdom there is much grief and increasing knowledge results in increasing pain.”