I have often wondered what stories hold behind each faces that we meet.

The cashier at the petrol station handling my change, the cleaner at the fitness gym who offered me a lock that she found when I could not find mine, the students waiting at the pedestrian crossing as we wait for the traffic light to change its signaling, the working class professionals waiting in the taxi queue as I ambled along beside them.

I guess each has his/her own stories to tell.

Stories of struggle, pain, loneliness, moments of joy, bliss and happiness.

And as I stood in front of the row of infants in the nursery, basking in the quiet joy of watching the newest addition to the family, I know that for every page of happiness, joy, felicity that she writes, moments of anger, disappointments, frustration and pain would follow through in her growing years.

Just like the cycle of life that comes in phases

Birth, Old Age, Sickness and Death

All inextricably linked

ā€œWe cannot ride the bicycle of life for othersā€ ā€“ my wise teacher says

Some lessons may take us a lifetime to learn while others may take more than a lifetime to pick up.

And all we can do is to observe and revel in the brief escapades of happiness and know that this is only a moment just like the temporal pain that we feel in our heart.

Only the truly enlightened ones will recognise that all emotions are but energy, and that all emotions are the sameā€¦until enlightenment is reached, we would still be riding the bicycle of dukkha.