Dedicated to Jim Jones
On November 20th, we had the amazing opportunity to meet with seniors to offer some inspiration for a creative writing project. Although it was originally a cold and gloomy autumn afternoon, the warmth of the senior home made us forget the poor weather conditions outside. Initially, we were a bit nervous, as we had no idea who we would be conversing with, and what type of a person they would be.
However, meeting Mr. Jim Jones was an amazingly eye-opening experience that has changed both of us in a very profound way. He had stories that needed to be told, and we are absolutely honoured to provide a voice to his words.
We truly believe that his life is and was full of incredible experiences that should be told to anyone willing to listen. While listening to them, we laughed, felt sympathy, and were surprised by the humbling way he told them. First, we decided to share this experience in a fictional piece, but then we decided to format it into a poem since we could emphasize things that needed to be explained much more deeply. In the end, we decided to do both, enjoy.
It’s quiet, save for the ambiance of birds chirping and a waterfall crashing down somewhere in the distance. These are the moments that I live for; the reminder that life, in this moment, is sweet. These birds will keep on chirping as long as we don’t cut down their homes, and so it is imperative that we allow the leaves to keep on growing, and this forest to remain forever; just as I wish to remain forever between these towering trees.
“Mr. Jones!” someone yells, breaking the uninterrupted glimpse into nature’s sounds. I turn around to address the student; some trivial matter he asked me about, although I ensure I speak to him kindly like a teacher should.
Being an outdoor education teacher, I believe, has a great deal of responsibility. It is of utmost importance that we make sure that the younger generations remember that no matter what, natural life comes first. I take pride in my job as a teacher because I get to see my students become more environmentally conscious and caring – and I’m sure these lessons they will pass on to others.
We continue to walk through the trees until we reach a slight natural clearing where not enough trees have established themselves so as to impair us in pitching a tent. Before night falls, I knew that we needed to secure our food bags in a tree – otherwise, the bears would get to them.
“Alright, students. Make sure your food is all in one bag, and then secure it to a tree – like this,” I say as I sling my bag over a branch of a tree. It’s actually not that high, I reflect, but decide to help out the other students before getting mine higher.
“It’s imperative that you keep it high up,” I say as I adjust one of the other student’s. “Otherwise the bear will get to it,” I joke. I am partially serious though, as it’s always important to be prepared for anything that could go wrong. After all the food packs were secured, my arms are aching, so I resolve to set up my tent and get some rest.
But just as my consciousness begins to dim, and I can feel myself drifting into the land of sleep, I hear a rough growl outside. It isn’t one of the students. I find myself thinking who might be pretending to be a bear, but I know none of the students would do anything like that.
I pop my head just outside the tent to take a look, and I just barely discern a dark figure hunching near a tree – unmistakably a bear. Right on cue, it turns and runs away from me; into the cover of night.
Upon investigation, I realize that the bear had actually taken my bag, and I surveyed the area to see if anyone else’s bag was taken – but of course not.
“Well,” I say to the woods, “At least we’ll laugh about this tomorrow.”
My younger self beside my side
Eyes wide open
Mouth open wider
Staring onto God’s creation, forgetting to blink, forgetting to breathe
This is eternal, don’t forget.
“Look,” I would say to him, “Gaze towards the never-ending mountains, the ever-rolling hills, and the vast, endless ocean.
I would take his hand in mine and travel to the southern tip of the country and walk back all the way to the north.
Look around, this is eternal, please remember.
“Look out, look out before the materials of this world take your eye off the beauties of this world and drag them onto the temporary beauty of money and all the gifts that come with it.”
“Please observe.”
And he would observe.
He would not fail me
This is eternal, always remember.
Until the time is old, remember, only the ever-lasting can bring pure joy
Until the time is old, remember, only the humble can find the beauty
Until the time is old, remember, this is eternal
This is God’s creation, please stay humble.
Sincerely,
Zaid Ahmed and Unas Khalid
