I Believe In Life

…that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Walt Whitman
I believe that every human has his or her own identity. I state that this identity cannot
be humiliated or minimized. I manifest that we all are integral parts of something big and
glorious. I know for sure that every moment of our lives is precious and valuable. I proclaim
that every single living creature can contribute something to “the powerful play’, at least a
tiny “verse”. This knowledge struck like me a flash of lightning when I first read the poem
Oh me! Oh life! by Walt Whitman. The questions of this poem were extremely appealing to
my soul.
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring…
The questions that always come to my mind are pretty common. What is the purpose
of my life? Why do I live in the place where I am now? What is happening to me? Am I doing
everything right? I get up having these questions in my mind; I go to bed still requiring the
answer. It is a constant circle of mornings, days, and nights. I don’t think I am the only one to
be overwhelmed with them.
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish…
I get up at the same time every morning. The routine is pretty much the same – to get
the kids ready for school, to get myself ready for the working day, remember the phone, keys,
and documents. The questions are pattering in my head. Are my children happy? Is my spouse
happy? Every morning is a copy of the previous one. Then I take a subway train to get to the
downtown. I spend almost an hour underground each day. All layers of our society can be
found there. Men are trying to look more successful than they really are. Women are
pretending to be younger than their age. Nearly everybody’s face is lit with the light of their
numerous gadgets. It looks like we are all trying to catch a real life. It seems to me that they
think that life is something beyond that ugly, rattling, crowded train. They behave like people
in the lounge of the airport ready to get on the plane, but the plane is late for some unknown
reasons making them unable to start their journey. They may even physically feel how the
minutes of their lives are expiring. Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
I finally get to my work place. “Good morning, Miss Olha! Oh, you see I’m not ready
for today. I didn’t have any time to learn all those words (grammar rules, texts, etc)”. I have
the other question bumping in my head again. Am I successful as a teacher? What am I doing
here? Is it my life? In eight hours it’s time to go home. Time flies way too fast - tick-tock,
tick-tock.
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me..
I find myself strolling along the supermarket – the girls wanted some home-made
pizza for dinner. Standing in a line, I can hear a woman talking to her spouse. She says she
has not been out for ages; she pleads for him to go to the theater with her. A new question
comes to me. When did we go to the theatre for the last time? Of eyes that vainly crave the
light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d… Does pizza matter? What things are
really meaningful – home-made pizzas or an evening at the theatre? Where should I be right
now? Time flies way too fast - tick-tock, tick-tock.
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

I’m at home at last. My hands are white with the flour; the girls are grating cheese.
They seem to enjoy every minute of the process. They truly love our tiny kitchen, our old
oven. They laugh, and chatter, and chatter, and chatter. They tell me everything they did
during the day. They make it so bright, and I find myself living through their life. Though we
cook together quite often, their tittle-tattle makes this very evening so special. Time has
stopped, not a tick any more. Here comes the answer.                                         
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
We are responsible for every unique moment of our lives. We should not expect that
our life would begin as soon as we get off the train, leave our work, or a supermarket. Every
single moment has its own charm and identity. Let’s treat our lives as the most precious gifts
we have ever received.