Thursday, July 17, 2003
to nizam...
We all live in our individual spheres of life. Imagine… floating weightlessly in the middle of a large bubble, a bubble with unbreakable glass walls, so fragile yet so strong. Each of us with a circle of space we call our own.
Envision the universe as an Ocean, where each of our individual spheres are like bubbles in the water. At times there are a whole crowd of bubbles gathered together and we are in the midst of it. And each bubble is a person’s individual space. In times like these, we may feel hemmed in and confined by the throng of people around us. So we shrink within ourselves, within our sphere and put as much distance as possible between overwhelming presence of the bubbles around us and ourselves.
Other times, souls so akin to ours draw near. And we reach out to the comforting forms around us, creating our own little cluster of bubbles that float up together and break the surface of the waters, revelling the warmth and sunshine we find as one.
Inevitably though, bubbles would drift apart, forced by the current and the waves, each delicate sphere driven in varying directions by the fickle Winds of Fate. At times like these, when pressure has pushed apart the friends whom we had floated with, our little sphere, so frail and insignificant, would once more sink into the impenetrable depths of the sea. And Loneliness would confront us, taunt us, tease us, our desperate friend and unwanted companion. The darkness presses in on us, awesome and devastating; causing us, in our isolated misery, to cower and shrivel into our spheres, tiny and forlorn in the Ocean of water, of bubbles… Alone.
Sometimes, a bubble would come along, searching for us, or maybe drawn by us, a tiny ring of hope and life that pulls us through, reaching into our bubble of loneliness, and filling it with their presence. Clutching this tenuous aura that supports us, once more, we wake from the bitterness within, watered and blooming, we rise, ever so slowly, radiant, to the surface once more.
Not always though, are we so fortunate to drift into the friendship of one such. More often than not, blackness would surround us and threaten our demise. But in most of us, the strength of heart is stronger than we think. Almost giving up, giving in, to the yawning bleakness of being alone, we would stir from the ashes of Desolation, an infinitesimal ember of survival that refuses to die out, our spirit would revive gradually and expand, widening the confines of our circle and pushing back the intimidating murkiness we had sunk into, floating gently back into the soothing tenderness of the sunshine.
Still alone, we nevertheless gaze humbly at the breathtaking expanse of Ocean around us, cradling us lovingly in Her swells, thankful for our very existence, for that mere moment in time calm and accepting, suspended in our memories.
5:33 PM