Frail little things –
The crystal vase
The wild dream
Your own beating heart;
Your fingers close
Upon them all, a trembling grasp
Why not let go
Why not let soar
Why not let scatter and shatter if need be
When all world holds
And ever unfolds
Of so, so much more..
Today I woke up with the memory of a vivid dream.
I was in a hospital, working. A patient had an allergic reaction to a medication. She was collapsing when I was called. I shouted orders. Loaded a syringe. Adrenaline. 0.5 cc. Subcutaneous stat. Checked the vitals. Loaded a repeat dose, and waited. The patient recovered. She smiled at me.
I’m so used to puzzling and embarrassing scenarios in the dream world that this came as a surprise. Anaphylaxis is a particularly dreaded phenomenon in reality as well. Maybe my sub conscious mind believes in me now.
I like that.
We are all misfits. Squared, round, flat, long. Apples, pears and peaches. Artists and accountants. Some white like clouds, some coloured like the rainbow. Chipped and whole. Broken and mended. Not one like the other. Never quite the perfect puzzle pieces when you put them together.
But it sure makes a lovely picture.
That one never has to look far to find an ounce of inspiration is a fact I’m very much learning to appreciate of late.
I am currently staying with my friend K to prepare for our upcoming exams, a decision based on the fact that both of us have consistently failed to make any progress individually whatsoever. The kind of things that invoke wonder in a pre exam setting are varied and easily bordering on psychotic, but then that is a discussion reserved for another day.
Her mother happens to be a brilliant high school teacher of Economics and allied subjects, and has quite a number of students from various schools and colleges signing up for extra classes after school hours at their home. The venue is their erstwhile garage just in front of the house, now remodelled with a tiled roof and windows into a small classroom complete with a blackboard and three rows of desks and chairs. The classes commence by evening and extend into nightfall.
Yesterday she began the classes as usual. But just as twilight set in, we lost power. Something or the other was wrong with the electric lines and it was expected to last for a couple of hours. I naturally expected the students to head home as there were no emergency lamps available in the house and candles or torches couldn’t possibly help. So imagine my surprise when I peeped out after a while to see the little room flooding with light in the middle of utter darkness.
All the students had taken out their smartphones and kept them lined up along the parapet and the windows on either side, and switched the flashlights on, creating an island of illumination. It was a beautiful sight, to say the least.
They could have whined about the circumstance or seen it as an excuse to leave early, but chose to join hands (and handsets) to get on with their purpose. And together, they shone brighter than before. I guess problems are only as bad as our take on them. Each trial encountered can easily be a challenge to better ourselves, to shake off the rust, and move forward. Sometimes a lapse in the routine or a walk away from our comfort zones is what is needed for fresh perspectives. And sometimes unforeseen darkness is all it takes for us to find a glint within.
The universe is a precious gift adorned with roses and ribbons of all kinds, wrapped up under layers of glittering paper. But I’ve often felt we are so fixated on opening it up that we tend to not notice all the work that went into it, the little details meant for our delight, and quite often the glitter paper and the ribbons are barely noticed and tossed aside.
The way the sky lights up with every sunrise. The agility of a squirrel. The giggle of a rivulet. The incessant chatter of crickets giving one company on a lonely night. The flight of a bird. Rain on the roof. Smell of wet earth. The sheen of new leaves. The crunch of old ones under your feet. Climbing vines. Lines of wisdom on an ageing tree. A butterfly waltzing to the rhythm of the breeze. A wildflower in bloom.
I love wildflowers. I love how they brave birth in the wilderness, seeking approval from none. How the frailty of their petals do not hold them back from facing the sun. How the brevity of their existence does not stop them from achieving glorious perfection and every intricate design right, even when destined to wilt by sundown, unnoticed.
I like to believe that the secrets to happiness are scattered all around us, waiting to be discovered if we’d care to stop and take a look. Where do wildflowers fit in the scheme of things? Maybe they are little angels sent to line my paths when I am lost.
Watch us, they tell me, watch and learn. You too are a little lost soul in a world bigger than you can fathom, facing trials you never foresee. You may feel unwanted and out of place; your actions inconsequential. Your lifetime is but the tiniest fraction of eternity, a slice of today and tomorrow, before you fade into inevitable oblivion. Why then, you ask, should you blossom at all? Why colour your cheeks with brilliant hues when you are meant to wither away anyway??
Because, dear child, even your trivial existence holds the power to make a weary traveller smile. 🙂
( The drawing was made long ago by my arts teacher from school – a treasured gift)
To wake to an early bird’s call
When the sky is unlit and grey
And feel the stillness calm my soul
I’d live another day
To gaze at meadows lush and green
With blushing blooms in array
Kissed by the breeze unseen
I’d live another day
To listen to the bickering birds
And watch squirrels at play
To fantasize their singsong words
I’d live another day
When the sun no longer shines
And dark clouds line my way
When bleak and morbid signs
Lead my thoughts astray
That even storms do bring
A rainbow, a flowery May
I shall in my heart sing
And live another day
Haiku Jam taught me how
Random strangers can choose
To create magic
Words can be
He is not the only one
Who can complete me
Can surprise you
We are all ghosts with
A bunch of words can
Seeking help does not
Seeking help does not
Mean you will get it
A leap of faith can bring
Out the best in you
Our fingertips hold all
The power in the world
Truly, madly, deeply
I love poetry
Image (HaikuJAM logo) from Google