My nephew, Karun Sagar, a student at Sara Lawrence College, is a musician, screenwriter and rebel with the world on his shoulders. His is a cool genius that makes magic wherever he applies himself. These are his thoughts when asked what inspiration a 20-year-old living in New York might have for the world.
IT'S TIME TO FLY by Karun Sagar
I like stories. I’d guess most people do. They’re the currency of meaning, the lights of our horizon, the why behind what we do. Or maybe they aren’t. Maybe they don’t mean sh*t. Whatever you think of stories, here’s mine.
There’s a person I know. A person who told stories. Stories everyone seemed to love. More importantly, they flew. High. High in the horizon, glittering like the silver people seek in clouds. Glowing with the gold of Apollo’s amber eyes. It was then I decided, for better or worse, I’d like to fly too.
They were a beacon. A floating flame whose shining example showed me what I could become. Or maybe they were a shadow, a dark reflection whose gaze I gravely needed to escape.
Admiration? Envy? It was probably both. But whatever you think drove me, whatever was my why, what I chased was them. More specifically, I chased what they had, a seat in the stars. My vessel? My stellar wagon to the great beyond? Stories, of course. At least that was the plan. And then the world stopped, or at least it feels like it did. The actors, the musicians, the components of my spaceship locked away as a pandemic grounded the world.
But enough about me.
I was told to inspire, though I’m not much good at that. So maybe I’ll just be true.
It’s possible, like me, you feel that time’s stopped. Or, more precisely, that time should stop. That the clocks should stop ticking. That the world should stop spinning. And our bodies should stop aging, lest we inch closer to the reaper’s grip. Alas, it did not. And as time keeps ticking, so should we.
I’m going to guess there are things you want. Things you were planning to achieve. Memories, experiences, chapters of stories you wish to add to the book of your life.
My advice? Prepare.
If you are willing and able, and I am truly sorry for those who aren’t, find a way. A way to make achieving whatever you want more likely. I still want to fly, and I still want my place on the horizon. So I’ll keep writing, keep making stories, keep building my stellar vessel. You might want something different. Something less ambitious. Something more so. Regardless, keep moving. Keep doing. Time hasn’t stopped, so neither should we. The great reaper waits, all the same.
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