Human Lego
Remember how you used to play with Lego as a kid? Those legendary building blocks that our parents would buy for us cos they fostered creativity?
I used to love my Lego blocks. I'd make all sorts of interesting things from it; cars, aeroplanes, houses, gardens. The blocks i used when I was younger were the big ones, but the lego pieces became more complicated as it went on. They became smaller, required more nimble fingers, and fulfilled more specific functions. Soon, the picture on the box showed that I could make aircraft carriers and robots, but I never got beyond my houses, gardens and aeroplanes.
I used to share the lego blocks with my brother. We had a whole pool of lego that we dumped all our sets into, and we tried to be creative with that pool. I used to be happy if i was the first one to grab the nicest blocks and even happier if they fitted together. But sometimes, the blocks were loose, and I couldn't fit them onto my thingy. They just wouldn't stay there. The frustration was worse if I didn't get the blocks i wanted cos my brother got to them first. And sometimes, my final toy wasn't what I envisioned it in the first place. Oddity here, extra block there, one less wing on the plane.
Over the years, we start looking at people as if they were made up of Lego blocks. The years of life mess up the blocks that came in the original package. It's a whole pool of bricks now, no more what it once was when we first opened the box. We try to piece ourselves together, thinking we are the sum of our parts. Adding a piece here, a wheel there. We see what we lack and try to add on to it.
At other times, we even look for the lego blocks on someone else. Isn't that true? I can't help but think of this when my friends like Dr Khoo talk about praying for a partner with specific qualities in mind. And then there are negotiable and non-negotiable qualities.
Compassionate. Red block. Loves God. Green square. Loves social work. Wheels at the bottom. Long haired, nice smile. A wing on each side. Self-reflective. Yellow piece on the tail.
Does it really fly if i put all those parts together correctly, Papa? Does it? Really?
I guess, as James says, we can't always have our favourite blocks. Sometimes, someone else takes it before we do. Sometimes the realisation that I am not made of the best blocks becomes so salient. Argh. Why does that yellow block have to stick out when the whole toy is red?
But we learn to love. Even when that yellow block sticks out like a sore thumb. Or when wear and tear rips a wheel off his/ her heart. Without that wheel, it can't take off no matter how impressive the wings look.
We learn to love, because it's that yellow block that makes it unique, that makes it special. We learn to love, because things don't always come in the nicest of packages. We learn to love, because the years of life sometimes chooses those blocks for us.
We learn to love, above all, because if everything came in packaged condition, there is nothing left for us to love.
I used to love my Lego blocks. I'd make all sorts of interesting things from it; cars, aeroplanes, houses, gardens. The blocks i used when I was younger were the big ones, but the lego pieces became more complicated as it went on. They became smaller, required more nimble fingers, and fulfilled more specific functions. Soon, the picture on the box showed that I could make aircraft carriers and robots, but I never got beyond my houses, gardens and aeroplanes.I used to share the lego blocks with my brother. We had a whole pool of lego that we dumped all our sets into, and we tried to be creative with that pool. I used to be happy if i was the first one to grab the nicest blocks and even happier if they fitted together. But sometimes, the blocks were loose, and I couldn't fit them onto my thingy. They just wouldn't stay there. The frustration was worse if I didn't get the blocks i wanted cos my brother got to them first. And sometimes, my final toy wasn't what I envisioned it in the first place. Oddity here, extra block there, one less wing on the plane.
Over the years, we start looking at people as if they were made up of Lego blocks. The years of life mess up the blocks that came in the original package. It's a whole pool of bricks now, no more what it once was when we first opened the box. We try to piece ourselves together, thinking we are the sum of our parts. Adding a piece here, a wheel there. We see what we lack and try to add on to it.
At other times, we even look for the lego blocks on someone else. Isn't that true? I can't help but think of this when my friends like Dr Khoo talk about praying for a partner with specific qualities in mind. And then there are negotiable and non-negotiable qualities.
Compassionate. Red block. Loves God. Green square. Loves social work. Wheels at the bottom. Long haired, nice smile. A wing on each side. Self-reflective. Yellow piece on the tail.
Does it really fly if i put all those parts together correctly, Papa? Does it? Really?
I guess, as James says, we can't always have our favourite blocks. Sometimes, someone else takes it before we do. Sometimes the realisation that I am not made of the best blocks becomes so salient. Argh. Why does that yellow block have to stick out when the whole toy is red?
But we learn to love. Even when that yellow block sticks out like a sore thumb. Or when wear and tear rips a wheel off his/ her heart. Without that wheel, it can't take off no matter how impressive the wings look.
We learn to love, because it's that yellow block that makes it unique, that makes it special. We learn to love, because things don't always come in the nicest of packages. We learn to love, because the years of life sometimes chooses those blocks for us.
We learn to love, above all, because if everything came in packaged condition, there is nothing left for us to love.
yes indeed i did like it=) *HUG*
very poignant.
meant alot to have read that.
thanks for writing the way that you do. :)