Saturday, March 16, 2013

2 Melting in diversity


 

The individual to curse the whole?

 

Perhaps to curse its diversity?




Or be at home?




The plane bumped gently while touching the runway. Life started to flow again in the veins of the dopey passengers. In the blink of an eye, they gathered their belongings and rushed out. A bus was waiting to transport them to the terminals. Tired and confused from the complicated system of different colours for transfers and final destinations, many passengers ended up unboarding the bus in the wrong place, while as many passengers from other flights were boarding the bus to fix their mistakes.

It was a flight hub in middle earth. A small country with few citizens. Yet, in comparison, the amount of people in the airport was totally out of proportions. And these were a vivid mixture, mainly from the three continents.

He sat down waiting for his connection. A woman hiding her beauty behind a veil caught his attention. Though the veil was masking the body, her presence was strongly shining through it. How could a cameo contain such an intense feminine? They flirted with their eyes, while she was circling around him, pretending to be interested in some tax-free goods.
Others were showing way much more flesh. An expression of freedom? In their case, they were completely sealing their feminine behind an iron wall of mind and thoughts, leaving no trace of it, not even in the exposed flesh.

Some were lost in their books. What can one find in the books? Could it be that they contain more knowledge than the book of life? Perhaps reading a static book gives an illusion of control? Or it teaches few tricks? But then, existence is the best teacher of these. Maybe it is to run away to a dream land, to illusions? But could there be a prettier dream than being? How could it be that travelling in a book is more exciting than travelling in the world? Or perhaps books are good to waste time, and spend the boring moments? With such diversity of people all around, such a colourful scene, he thought, boredom can come only from within.
He noticed a mixed pair setting near the airport windows. They were totally in themselves touching and flirting. They did not seem to know boredom, they did not seem to have enough of their being.

Two guys came and sat near him. One of them started talking on the mobile. Abruptly, close by, a tall slim guy made a strong unsatisfied sound while taking a determined leave.
A beautiful girl, perhaps from south-east Asia, sat against him. She had a sweet warm smile, a fresh fragile laugh, and an inviting openness. So heartily, so pure. She was at home.

To travel is to read the book of life that is written momentarily by the vivid soul of existence. The stories, the energies in the book are so diverse, so intense. To tear pages from the book of life is to separate oneself from the whole. To prefer a book written by dead black ink is like an ostrich hiding its head in a hole in the ground. To violently reject aspects of its diversity is a conditioning of the mind.
Travelling in such a book, there is no need to wait for the after life. Heaven is here and now. And with such diversity, even hell is here and now. Your wish upon a star.
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2 comments:

  1. Yes, and yes again...beauty is in the colors of our world, waste no time...enjoy!..

    Widad

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    1. It is a beautiful world indeed, and enjoy it we need.

      Thank you Widad.

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