Wanderlust- part 1
A strange display of light emanated from above…
It was blinding white, so bright that it scared away the shadows but yet it lasted for only a few seconds- those few seconds were an eternity when the whole world was illuminated in a sparkle of dazzling white, blinding white light.
And while the shock registered another visitation revealed itself- a voice chaotic, distant and yet all around you…these four walls may crumble if they tried to contain the ferocity with which they were spoken. And yet to my ears it was a musical symphony, a cadence, a crescendo of intense emotion warping ones mine- it’s a natural abreaction mans psychology creates that makes us fear this phenomenon. Its something we don’t understand, it’s a power we can’t tame or predict and so we fear it.
What’s strange to see is that the natural life around me, the birdbath, the little swing attached to the trees for the multitude of parrots and the grain stone where with the remaining fruit, a few grains and nuts; all of these “landmarks” (as I would call them) are over brimming with the usual tenants, and even as the sky is ferociously assaulted, these little beings don’t show their fear; its hardly there. The squirrel doesn’t flinch, the birds don’t scream and make a racket- its like this phenomenon is completely normal to them, its like they simply accept this power and yet to me…I sense a friction with mans ego and the natural forces- is it thought that hinders acceptance? The thought or even subconscious realization of how transitory life is and how lives may be affected, altered forever is perhaps what makes us afraid? Or have we simply forgotten how to live with the elements? I have seen many people clamp their ears, shut their eyes and even scream when the voice speaks to them. Is it the voice of god? But what if there is no god? What if you don’t believe in god? Then he naturally doesn’t exist, so then what is it? Forces above colliding? A more complicated explanation is offered by the scientists but lets not get there- this story (like all others) is a different account and much of what is said could be metaphoric or maybe more than that: it could be a fact for those who see the beauty of nature rather than those who see the bare, naked factual explanations- there is a difference you see, maybe if you prod around a bit you might find the answer…
Its mango season and I, occupant in the four walls of plaster and nothing but mankind’s mechanism, watch the natural world outside longingly. It is sparse however, the trees are scattered few but somehow the little orchestra would reach my ears and I like a misty eyed lover would turn my gaze to my love and drink deep the beauty, the music and the tranquility of the moment. They all assembled at a Jak tree of whose neighbor is a mango tree, a few bulging mangoes obvious even at this distance. But above its pell-mell, holy cacophony! The sky streaks with lightening and the static sinewy veins of the firmament are for a moment exposed and there is a blare of noise. The whole human world is at that minute silenced; its quiet for they are all afraid.
But I reckless, curious and self-aware (of the fact that this sight scares me too) glance upstairs and notice how the world is lit up- and then it darkens once more. I couldn’t resist it, the rain had not yet fallen and it was the rock n roll of the gods above epitomized and amplified – who could miss such a chance?
And so I gently, meekly made my way to the rooftop and look up at my bare, cloudy archway; the music struck again and this time, while the thunder was echoing, I noticed how the birds took entered their own chime. I was spellbound, for listening to it made me think of how much there is in beauty alone that we cannot comprehend and are blind to. Deaf to, too would be appropriate. Beauty perhaps depends on a personal definition as does almost everything that is transmitted though feelings.
And the song continued, the thunder like some lonesome pianist playing the chords at the far left, drunk in how own melancholy while the birds filled in the harmonies. At that point I also noticed how thunder had different pitches- he often sang on key notes and began his song at different but almost synchronized pitches. Perhaps his song is subject to his different emotions as ours are? Or perhaps thunder is the song of the Sky and the Sky sings his song called Thunder? Or perhaps thunder is a phase the Sky goes through, like His other face which he wears, like the azure skies. Azure associated with brightness and white clouds- but it has no song of its own does it? The little birds are instruments of this particular phase…hmm…just a few thoughts. I for one have always preferred fantasy over the grounded stories science tell us; my feet have always been dangling above my head and in my imaginative analysis of the situation, the imagine of it reminds me of one of those Shakespearean jesters with their garb (save Yorick, for he wore nothing but the garment of Death) and while the image is ridiculous enough, something along those lines did unseat my sanity (again: sanity is subject to personal definition).
All of a sudden I looked up and I thought I saw a few distant shadows moving…it couldn’t be could it? In this kind of tropical storm who in their right minds would be…err…so high up on the sky or outside as a matter of fact? (Save slightly delusional characters like me who swallow their inherent fear and allow the static to them off their feet…)
Static take you off your feet? What the hell…I just uttered the statement and at that exact moment there was a buzz hovering around my ankles, and the sight took away all the color from my face; I felt a drain as my heart beat as loud as war drums and the shock was impossible to contain, but I have to for my voice entirely betrayed me. I just couldn’t even scream or exclaim!
It was a rather intense moment- here I was, subject to one of my primal fears facing me in a physical shape. It was deathening (there isn’t such a word in English, but I take the privilege of inventing it- there is no other way of expressing it). The whole experience was delusional, and yet while it felt like something I, an atypical escapist would dream of, the abreaction is rather intense, you cant really control yourself, try to keep calm and not flap your arms around like a bat whose wings have grown in the wrong place. You can’t help but echo the screaming thoughts in your head, those OH MY GOODNESS, SHIT, and FUCK WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME? And all the internal chaos unknown situations reap. It’s like your whole inner being is sown and unconsciously reaped. And reviewing such reactions always puts me to shame, but nevertheless, her I was, being lifted off by static, acting like some kind of cloud and…into the sky? Can you go into the sky? Humor me…I was just about to find out…
