Fly

If only we could always live on a plane and see our own lives from high above; from that high altitude, only then we might’ve been reminded constantly of the real magnitude of our heads and the mind. How minuscule indeed is the human mind; the human body, the human himself. How small!

And even yet, what if we would live constantly on a plane which would fly over all the clouds, so that we could not see man anymore; only the clouds, the mist and the rising sun on the opaque horizon, could we then just be? In that infinite space?

Because that’s where the soul exists and so does the heart. Light, peace and serenity and everything that’s sweet. A pessimist would also point out uh… the disturbing sound of the engine and the omnipresent fear of death of course, but why even think of that where such calm is present? Why even bother to look for the shadows where there’s only pure, morning light?

The rays have never been so united, so in harmony. Harmonious movement of light. THIS is being in the present; THIS is being free from the chains of tomorrow and yesterday. THIS is constant bliss. THIS is seeing and feeling love within every fiber of your being. THIS is becoming the light, becoming love. This is the closest to not being you. This is the truest you’d ever get—just to be a touch hopeless!

Now, what if we could ALWAYS live in the clear blue ocean? What if we would at all times, lie on the golden sandy shore and see our lives in the ocean waves, happening every second? What if we would sit for a few mere seconds and hear the splendid melody of life through the tropical ocean breeze? Would we, then reach freedom? Would we, then be free from the misery we’ve brought upon ourselves so hardly throughout our years on this planet?

What if the sun and the ocean were our only friends all day, every day? What if we had no enemies, particularly the ever-disturbing self? Would we, then be one with the universe? Would we be timeless? What if we could be like the island trees? So strong and so humble; so beautiful and so generous, offering a pretty smile and welcome, through their darkness, under the scorching weather of life? What if we were or could learn to be-for a second-the pure tropical climate? So subtle and so intense within only seconds? Could we ever let go of the sweet divine taste of freedom?

Shall we switch the setting to a tropical island NIGHT? Cycling around the twisted path which at times leads through the steep mountain skirts and the placid lakes of the hollows; this is the setting.

Damp air, brushing against your face, tiny drops of moist, glistening on your skin. Water, dripping from the back of your hair, you wonder if this is a dream.

I leave the path, give back the rented bike and after quenching my thirst with yet another strawberry beer, I head to the wooden dock. The endless wooden path which does actually have and end. But as far as the eyes are concerned, that end, is the dark blue sea. Halfway! But it’s fine. I walk it anyway and I do consider it as one of the many walks of like. Because a lesson lies in the end, where the eye sees only darkness.

There is the reflection of the many lights on the now-so-calm sea. To a point of course. Then there’s pure darkness. The sweet sea is now the demon of loneliness and fear. One can just stand and look away. One should do only that. Because taking action of any kind here, would be the work of only the blatant.

There’s always light, there’s always light! But there’s always darkness too; they coexist.

The fear propels me backwards and I head back. It’s funny that of all times, I should see Jonathan NOW ! he flies over; his presence is a message. A message for those who care to see it, receive it. and Jonathan keeps flying, I see him go past the island, but I know he likes this place.

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