The Coming of the Ship

   So, on the 2^nd day of the year, down with a bad cough and cold, I confine myself to my bed.  A balmy northern breeze, unexpectedly warmer, is caressing my face. And a warmer sun is playing hide and seek with my feet. Through the leafy branches of a tree, I can see tufts of gloomy clouds trying to cover up a lazy sun. Just like empty thoughts jostling for space in my mind.

                It feels nice. Nice for finding some time for yourself and not getting bogged down by the monotonous monochrome maladies of life. Often I have wondered about all the efforts we put in our daily lives. To what does it round-up to? Another year passes by and getting older by another year. But are we getting any wiser? It’s incommodious as too many antagonistic thoughts queue up the thinking wagon. Pages of a national geographic magazine adds fuels to the thought fire and my heart clings to its deepest proclivity.  

                Someone somewhere starts playing a mouth organ. These kind of tunes can make you nostalgic instantly and for a moment you stop and turn back to glance at the road you tread. A montage of memories fill up your thoughts. What you dig up from these reminiscences is not under your control. But just like the tune of the mouth organ, let it fill your soul. Life is not always about doing things the right way. If you always try to measure up things and fret about them, it is actually that very moment when life passes by and you fail to notice it.

                Random, chaotic thoughts embezzle my senses and I seem to drift away into a faraway land where one’s life is like a utopian dream. But sometimes, such a feeling of a chaotic mind helps. One must spend time alone for introspection. It is the time when your soul opens up and you begin to comprehend the essence of your life and how it should be. You begin to recognize yourself. It is the time when you allow the mind to meet the heart and you begin to unravel your yearnings. 

For a moment the sun hides behind the clouds and I come back to my senses. Now the sun, through the leaves, creates crisscrossing shadows on my face. Somehow it reflects the state of my mind. I remember a fragment from the chapter ‘The Coming of the Ship’, in the book ‘The Prophet’ by Kahlil Gibran:

“A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that give it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.

And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun”.