ATLANTIS – of sprites and fairies:
Approx reading: 6 mins
Namaste my friends, I give to you today – The Thinking Man….
He fondled his tresses and cuddled his beard. His palm seemed to naturally, effortlessly stumble to his chin; it happened every time he promenaded into wonderland, into yoyo land, this place that was entirely and exclusively his; lock, stock and barrel. Where pixies and gnomes rambled free and untamed. There was absolute tranquility here, bliss too, and gratification, serenity and a good deal more; his utopia, his nirvana. It's the place where the unexplained came to pass, where the magical, paranormal took stature, where celestial immortals abided, where the whole lot started, where dreams were incised, or stretched out, and now and again squirreled away to be tore limb from limb later, and every so often cast off. It was the abyss of creativity, abode to novelty, the epitome of metaphorming, parodying, correlation and connecting, theorizing, hypothesizing, imagining and Imagineering. It was the nucleus of his genius; it was what set him apart, it's what sets apart one and all – the core to persona, the soul, the conscious being; devoid of which all humans are mere machines- internal metabolism for energy, electrical nervous systems, mechanical support and movement via skeleton and muscle, chemical cellular structures, vascular, excretory and absorption processes dictated by chemical gradients and fluidity- just but machines, extremely efficient machines, or mere mammals for that matter.
He had for eternity been proficient at being carried on the breeze to seventh heaven - on resolve. He had been doing so for as long as he could bear in mind. At the outset it had been just a plain spontaneous yen, and he had reviled it; kids had pleasured themselves at his peril in school; libeled him epithets and cackled at him. He had detested it; like a blight or a horrible infectivity, like the hunchback of Notre dame, a hermit, vilified for a dearth that was not his own making, for a natural bequeath, for being atypical. Why are you looking at me like that? - His mom had queried him time and again, unfossilizing him from his flight of the psyches. He would put up with the offense, for she had gotten the wrong end of the stick on him. He couldn't elucidate himself, for sufficing to the verity that as matter of fact he couldn't even isolate idiosyncratically what he had been revamping would only dole out to further complicate the already out of depth situation.
Moreover, he would be slighted by the intrusion; being wrenched out of his peace, for that was the apposite avowal, absolute inner peace; no worries and no concerns, an unimplored high, cloud nine, on the spot contentment free of charge, one that he didn't have to beleaguer for, one that was all his for the taking, anytime, wherever. At the time, it had been a wandering off the point fete, spur-of-the-moment and whilst he had cherished his little escapades, he'd dreaded the trepidation they precipitated; and as certain as the Jurassic kindred vanished from the face of the earth, and the chameleon got its appendage on camouflage, he found inclinations to masquerade his 'debacles'; anything just to give the perception that he wasn't abstracting – a routine that would became habituated; second nature, a mantra of sorts.
Back in those dawn years, it had never occurred to him that this was in reality a bequest he had. Instead of trying to harness its latency, he had longed it away. Now, as his palm repeatedly stroked his jaw, and his gaze shifted, indicative of an adaptation in his thoughts, to more recent times, he speculated on how different life would have been. What ostentatious accomplishments he would have had. And his thoughts progressively budged to 'TIME', and he realized how much time he had washed out, and how little of it he had left.
He sensed an explicit covet to dash things, nonetheless, he was well aware that nothing could be hurried. He knew he was bustling at full throttle. What was to be already was. He appreciated his facilities, but also respected his limitations. There were just too many facets at play, most of which were beyond his clout. He was layering his thoughts like an onion, placing each on top of the other, demarcating his mind for easy routing, and planning his actions, fitting every hew in its apt lay in the conundrum, mulling over each fraction as it fitted in, how the profile of one piece affected the outline of the adjoining portion, seeing the curvatures of two parts of the bundle blend blamelessly into each other; the sovereign pieces coalescing to the whole.
His head turned yet again; his fingers were now quiescent at his toes, comfortably, utterly at ease in a lotus pose. The jigsaw still intense in his mind, he had just fitted the last piece in; an elephant outline, to complete the faultless circle, all made up of singular creature parts. He could now visualize a life elephant in the Maasai Mara, sharing its habitat with a diverse flora and fauna, and non-living things; all forming an intricate niche, each reliant on the other, yet living autonomously, and abruptly the jigsaw flickered in his mind once more; the comprehension hit him square; the jigsaw is a universal premise of existence, of realism. It's intrinsic in all of nature, it is a cosmic truism. Four billion stars and celestial bodies revolve in the cosmos in perfect harmony; on no account having a fender-bender, not one falling into the straight pathway of the other, each one with its distinctive trajectory, independent and collision free from the other, though their orbits interweave numerously, but their intricate multifarious programmed orbits so coordinated that they never bump, synchronized to the millisecond, more accurate than the most sophisticated, pricey piece of Rolex ever devised; as matter of fact, the very core on which time as we now know it was conceptualized, and yet their relative gravitational forces are imposing on each other; Remove just one piece from the enigma and KABOOM! The big bang recurs, the apocalypse; marking the end of existence as we know it now, but the inauguration of something else, another billion years of evolution. A solitary plain deed upsetting and varying all; extort a planet, millions of light years away from earth, dooms entire civilizations; truism, altering one thing, however miniscule or introverted, instigates a kind of a succession manacled reactions. One obliging all, and all one. Action/reaction; there are consequences to everything.
A butterfly flutters its wings deep in the Amazon; in-flight to a further serving of nectar on the next blossom, and in course extricates infinitesimal specks of pollen from the anthers of the bloom. The pollen wafts into a lead deer's nostrils causing an allergic reaction. The deer sneezes fervidly; thousands of spooked creatures, birds, herbivores, insects take off in earnest and voila, we have a stampede; animals dashing-mad, adrenaline thrust, trees falling, birds flapping wings gravely, dust rising, the air being systematically stirred, causing a small draft to build up, that in turn meets the sea breeze, slightly warmer. The temperature disparity results in a pressure anomaly and conditions are just ripe for a mini storm. The tempest sprints out to sea, meeting more warmer waters in the deep seas and suddenly we have a hurricane headed for the US mainland. The storm hits the coast with winds gustling at 400 kilometers an hour; total devastation. Buildings are down, power lines are out, lives are lost, property worth billions of dollars is lost.
The federal government cuts down on international aid expenditure in an effort to raise money for the reconstruction. Less support streams into Africa; an HIV positive mother dies in Kibera – Nairobi for lack of donor funded Anti-Retrovirals, leaving behind an orphan boy, whose chances of ever escaping poverty have just diminished since he has to fed for his four siblings, he misses out on school to earn a living, crime rates hit the roof, so does poverty, the people cannot pay for alternative fuel, so they burn charcoal and gather firewood, depleting the woodlands that act as carbon sinks and water catchment areas, causing global warming, the G8 meet to discuss the Kyoto protocol, and thousands of anti-globalization marchers congregate to demonstrate, and a deadlock ensues in the World Trade talks because the poor countries are howling foul over trade distortions, America gets more ostracized, faced with terrorism and discontent on their international stance on aid assistance and debt annulment, and international trade with the impoverished, and is threatened by the emerging economies of the far east, the new emerging superpowers ……anything is everything, the observer is the observed, non-duality…. Everything affecting everything. And it sun-ups on him;
all one has to do is just hit the right buttons, and a number of other times any buttons, for it doesn't matter, sometimes all we want is for something, anything to come about. That will be as good, as much as necessary, a start as any.
Namaste, my friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment