Life has a changing rhythm. And every change of rhythm in the life may be a symbol that we have entered a new stage of life. And as we enter one and another different stages, we are being on the journey of life. Different rhythms, different phases of the journey.
I was a little child fifteen years ago when I did not think about anything about the life. I liked to get up early. I always wakened Mother though it was not easy. I put on any piece of clothes Mother gave to me. After having breakfast at home, Father sent me to the kindergarten. Sometimes, time was so limited that Father just bought me something to eat. They forced me to have a cup of milk every day. That was painful. In that kindergarten, we played, played and played. After one game, we started another game. After one day of play, we started another day of play.
However, I never got sick or tired of it. I enjoyed the games all the time. The teachers never looked serious, never embarrassed us, and never scolded us. And I thought everyone was my good friend. Play was the center of my life, and simplicity was the center of my mind. The journey just started.
I had been in the school for several years ten years ago when I was not clear about the meaning of rhythm. Every morning, I was reluctant to get up, but willing to braid my hair with great care. I preferred the breakfast sold on the roadside to that Mother cooked. However, I never dared to tell her about this. In the school, the study was not difficult, but the garrulous teachers were troublesome. They liked to talk on and on with the emphasis that we had to do what a student should do. I had several best friends, but I found it was too hard to get along well with all the classmates. Life was much more than play. The journey had presented its various sides.
I was studying in the high middle school five years ago. I thought I began to know a little of the rhythm of life, though the life returned to be simple again. It was instilled in us that everything except study is a waste of time. I had never felt eating and sleeping were such great pleasure before that time. I loved my bed than anything else in the world when the alarm clock was ringing. But I was compelled to leave it by the feeling of being guilty. To keep healthy, I voluntarily drunk milk every day, though I still thought the taste of it was a little strange. I did eat a lot. It was a good even the best way to relax myself and keep clear-headed. Teachers were concerned about us, but they cared much more about our study than anything else of us. I laughed at myself that, “ if I am granted one more hour a day, I will definitely use it to learn more English words, do more math exercises, and read more articles.” Fortunately I had a very close friend with whom I felt not lonely in the world of endless study. Study was the center of my life, and the center of my mind as well. The journey became tough, and every step seemed hard.
Two and half years ago I entered the university. From then on, life turns different. I live in the dorm with my roommates who have been my best friends. The right to choose the time I get up belongs to myself, not the parents or the inevitable pressure. As for breakfast, I can have a piece of cake, a cup of oatmeal, and anything I like. Study is important, but not painful. For the first time I am able to decide for myself what I learn and from whom I learn. Here I have many friends. We have much time to talk, to express, and to communicate. Our conversations extend over an immense rage of topics, from the recent political event to a new-released movie. I do enjoy this kind of chatting. I do like the friendship I have now. I think my friends are not ambitious. They prefer making the current life wonderful to thinking too much about future. I am also the person of this kind. So we would be very joyful when finding a new delicious dish in the canteen. We would get excited when the book we have long cherished arrives at the bookstore. We would keep walking for two hours on the campus in the winter, talking, laughing, and appreciating the unusual scenes. Loveable is the journey.
The rhythm of life seems more and more difficult to define, and the journey is adding more and more colors every moment. However, that’s the journey of life. |
