I was fortunate enough to be a part of the creation of a small world .Our world consisted of just three people where I could just be myself with no pretensions or political correctness or any other masks one wears in a civil society to make themselves amiable by some arbit standard.This world was simply a "place to be" rather than a place to become. It was such a refreshing breath of fresh air from my daily routine that I was addicted to it and used to drive towards it when possible
Moving forward, I will have to live without it. No more, those rides for me where I wondered how Chevron rose to its eminence by riding along the I-5 route where their first well was dug in the Santa Clarita valley and slowly expanded to the rest of the world. Just like those wells which dried up after a prolonged use, one of my well springs of inspiration will also soon dry up.
No more for me, those deep conversations about random subjects where I was willing to surprised at the other party's thinking and rationale.This suspension of disbelief on both sides is much like watching a movie or reading a book except that these are stories with oneself in it rather than be on the outside.
That was a very small world, we created for ourselves. We played within it without restrictions. We fielded that ground with a carefully and pruned it like it was our own private little garden. We dropped on each others frequency and it was impossible to hide anything (the furrow on the brow gives it away and an unfinished statement is always reassembled in the others' head). It was just a way too sublime experience to be occurring in this terrestrial sphere of things.
Those dosas made from the river of eternal mau, those jokes one laughed at, the banter that everyone craved , the hustle over a weekend, the elaborate stretching and resizing of one's imagination, the humility observed by one in front of other, the talent on display just for razzle-dazzle, the insight and the clarity one saw on a thorny issue, those difficult subjects one manoeuvred with ease, the verses one recollected fondly,the yodels which erupted carelessly, the eidetic memories others cherished in the company, the beauty of nature that all of them beheld in its full glory, the passions of work every one admired, the conviction of purpose all of them respected, the humor people demanded to be of a certain level , the satisfaction they generated from a few meaningless pieces, the elegiac usage of words , if the fellows were birds the brightness of their plumage would have blinded others ,the care towards expressed in subtle and deft ways, the perspicacity everyone shared , the melodic thronging of their activities, the taste of fine things appreciated together, the divinity one experiences in commonplace things, the squalor of sensibilities to drive away any boredom that might be lurking, the multitude of perspectives to introduce harmony given a cacophony (law of small numbers instead of the large), the keen sense to eschew anything that sounded or looked meretricious, the constituents having their own sense of belonging,identities that were morphed to see what would become of them, the yearning to see the world through through the other's senses,the distillation of one's revisions in life, and the best for the last:the radiance of the thing called love shining through all its myriad manifestations
While I shall miss all of those, I consider myself immensely lucky to meet these folks. (one could wait a lifetime for such relationships and it wouldnt be a waste at all) .Funny enough that I dont have any sense of "loss" as one doesnt "gain" these kinds of things but one rather walks into them and through them. They occur at some real arbitrary places and you can only hope that perchance that this might occur again on the other side of planet. As the Ecclesiastes says "The Sun Also Riseth!" (so while the sun sets on this small world, it shall rise again). I just need to wade through the darkness for a while
*
* *
Guy Noir: Look, I'm a man of the world like yourself. But these people, they've put their lives into this show.
Axeman: Well now they can put their lives into something else. That's the beauty of the world, there's always something to put your life into.
Moving forward, I will have to live without it. No more, those rides for me where I wondered how Chevron rose to its eminence by riding along the I-5 route where their first well was dug in the Santa Clarita valley and slowly expanded to the rest of the world. Just like those wells which dried up after a prolonged use, one of my well springs of inspiration will also soon dry up.
No more for me, those deep conversations about random subjects where I was willing to surprised at the other party's thinking and rationale.This suspension of disbelief on both sides is much like watching a movie or reading a book except that these are stories with oneself in it rather than be on the outside.
That was a very small world, we created for ourselves. We played within it without restrictions. We fielded that ground with a carefully and pruned it like it was our own private little garden. We dropped on each others frequency and it was impossible to hide anything (the furrow on the brow gives it away and an unfinished statement is always reassembled in the others' head). It was just a way too sublime experience to be occurring in this terrestrial sphere of things.
Those dosas made from the river of eternal mau, those jokes one laughed at, the banter that everyone craved , the hustle over a weekend, the elaborate stretching and resizing of one's imagination, the humility observed by one in front of other, the talent on display just for razzle-dazzle, the insight and the clarity one saw on a thorny issue, those difficult subjects one manoeuvred with ease, the verses one recollected fondly,the yodels which erupted carelessly, the eidetic memories others cherished in the company, the beauty of nature that all of them beheld in its full glory, the passions of work every one admired, the conviction of purpose all of them respected, the humor people demanded to be of a certain level , the satisfaction they generated from a few meaningless pieces, the elegiac usage of words , if the fellows were birds the brightness of their plumage would have blinded others ,the care towards expressed in subtle and deft ways, the perspicacity everyone shared , the melodic thronging of their activities, the taste of fine things appreciated together, the divinity one experiences in commonplace things, the squalor of sensibilities to drive away any boredom that might be lurking, the multitude of perspectives to introduce harmony given a cacophony (law of small numbers instead of the large), the keen sense to eschew anything that sounded or looked meretricious, the constituents having their own sense of belonging,identities that were morphed to see what would become of them, the yearning to see the world through through the other's senses,the distillation of one's revisions in life, and the best for the last:the radiance of the thing called love shining through all its myriad manifestations
While I shall miss all of those, I consider myself immensely lucky to meet these folks. (one could wait a lifetime for such relationships and it wouldnt be a waste at all) .Funny enough that I dont have any sense of "loss" as one doesnt "gain" these kinds of things but one rather walks into them and through them. They occur at some real arbitrary places and you can only hope that perchance that this might occur again on the other side of planet. As the Ecclesiastes says "The Sun Also Riseth!" (so while the sun sets on this small world, it shall rise again). I just need to wade through the darkness for a while
*
* *
Guy Noir: Look, I'm a man of the world like yourself. But these people, they've put their lives into this show.
Axeman: Well now they can put their lives into something else. That's the beauty of the world, there's always something to put your life into.
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