I used to draw yin and yang symbols.
I don’t remember when it started, or why I did it.
But I faintly remember drawing them on things.
On my binders and in the margin of notes, in middle school.
Or maybe they were tattoos on my skin, made with ballpoint pens.
Either way, they washed away.
I didn’t do it often.
But I remember doing it.
They looked cool, and I knew it had to represent something great, because I was drawn to them—
the single line that curved like a bend in the road, the bold contrast, the oddly corrupt yet balanced symmetry.
And then one day, I found out what it really meant.
Not that I figured it out on this day, or had some grand realization,
but I was just reminded.
And being reminded is a grand thing in itself.
Being reminded leads to appreciation.
Appreciation gives way to humbleness.
And being humbled, in a way, gives you peace.
There is good in the bad, and bad in the good.
This is the nature of change.
This is the nature of the world.
This is the nature of life.
And this is what makes life, life.
This is what makes life so intriguing, so precious, so beautiful.
And it really is.
It really, really is.