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| Illustration by Sophie Blackall @http://www.brainpickings.org/ |
On my inner walls, I painted you. I put my palms around your
frail cheeks and I painted you. When sad eyes looked down, I rewrote the script
and planted a smile instead. When your weary eyes bowed in disbelief, I planted
faith and a drop of my smile. When your face twitched in fear, I sowed the
seeds of courage and hoped that something inside would water them and help them
grow. When you looked sideways longing for a forgotten yesterday I was there to
remind that there’s still today left. A twitching eye, a fugitive look, a
fidgeting body helped to build space. And then, words started flowing between
us; in their conventional flow, your eyes would look down as if building a protective film around the
windows of your soul. It’s alright. I knew it all the way. And when words had
no meaning their secret tempo spoke instead. The trembling voice, the nervous
“aaaahs”, and the awkward lines filled a gap that reason never could, otherwise.
In the midst of a nonsensical conversation, the mystery of the self would surge
from the depths of the being. In its genuine nature, that surging self spoke
uncensored truths that words could never reveal without leaving on the residue
of purposefulness. There, in that humbling awkwardness, truth decided to
nestle. Yes, in that poor attempt to put together a couple humble words, some
sort of mystery was being transmitted. They were born under the sweat of
temples and the calling of the heart, whose impulse is to infuse order through
word in that whirly medley it oddly produces. While the mind is churning those
unspoken signals, some sort of fellowship between the heart and the mind occurs
that blesses the being with an inner harmony. Or maybe it’s the sense of
accomplishment the creator feels upon building a new world. In the silent toil
that makes that new world alive, raw beauty blossoms.
