Friday, March 16, 2007

So True

Over iced chocolates on Wednesday, Raqvind and I were recalling random moments gone by with nostalgia fuelled by tiredness. We agreed on the fact that it was hard to explain why some people preferred to keep journals or write down their feelings and some didn’t. Curious, I asked her what prompted her to write continually when she was younger and her gaze softened as she fished around for the answer.

“Well, it’s something like this,” she tried to explain as she dredged a memory up from some time ago. “Once I was on this flight, seventeen hours long at night, and for a large chunk of it, people were asleep and the whole cabin was silent. I was the only person awake and because no one called the stewardesses, they didn’t come walking through the cabin and interrupting the silence. I had some port wine, and my books and my diary opened up before me.” she mused, hands animatedly indicating where everything was on the table.

“And I looked out of the window and everything was dark, my light was the only light on and the only light shining in the whole darkness. And I just sat there, writing, interspersing little phrases and songs and poems in between my paragraphs when they came to mind. It’s funny, but it was like all my worries disappeared right then and there, there was no future and no past and I was just being, just living in the moment. It was like I was the only person alive and the only person who knew how special and secret that moment was.”

She tucked wayward hair behind her ear. “It was like being alone, but not lonely, just happy. And now, I just have to look at that diary and read that entry again and I’ll remember exactly how it was and exactly how I felt.”

I was staring at her in wonder by then because she just about described this one day out of my life four or five years ago, when my grandfather had just been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and we took my grandparents on a cruise for the sea air. I told her so, recalling the moment when I was sitting alone on the balcony at night, after everyone had gone to bed and was staring out at the endless black sea. It stretched out between me and forever, shiny and still except for the wake we were cutting slowly through the water. In the sky, a swollen round moon hung low over me, threatening to drop and disappear into the boundless sea leaving nary a ripple. And I sat there for an eternity, touching immortality, knowing that no one but me felt the same about that moment right there and then.

I don’t have that diary now – if I remember correctly, it was a present for a very special friend. I may not ever read it again. Yet, when I close my eyes now, I can still smell the sea, see the low moon with its craters dark like wet stains and hear the light splash of the water against the hull of the ship. And I remember what it feels like to be the only person alive, the only person who, at that moment, knows what it’s like to be truly happy.

Of course, it was just a feeling. And it was just one small speck of time in the entire spectrum of existence. But like Raqvind said, the rarity of these fleeting specks makes them all the more precious.

Sometimes as human beings, we believe that we’re all alone in the world and that no one really understands us in those moments. But if you’re lucky the way I am, one day, you meet someone who proves you wrong because she knows exactly, precisely how you felt.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think Jamie Cullum puts it nicely, "These are the days that bring us new meaning, I feel the stillness of the sun and I feel fine."

I believe moments like the ones you've described are special because they blatantly show us how different, how unique we are...I'm sure we can all recall a moment like that and think, 'look at her...she's so peaceful.'

At the end of my 23rd year here, I can't believe the richness of my life. Every moment live, every note sung, every pain endured, every smile sparked...and every rich person should have a bag of gold they can show for it...and that's me on the importance of writing.

10:19 pm  
Blogger Uryale said...

Sigh.

I don't have the gift of writing such beautiful and completely profound and meaningful words.

But I'm so glad I'm able to put some of my thoughts down in words.

And I'm even more glad that you've done the same Shu. It's a glimpse into your precious thoughts.. I've always wanted to have.
It's better than I ever could have imagined.

As for the diary.. you never
know.. you might yet get to see it again.

If you pay close enough attention, sometimes you actually realize that you know that you're in the middle of one of those beautiful moments - that you’re part of a solitary occurrence, mitigated by time, place and coincidence. By fate. A first breath, a touch on your lips that makes your whole body tremble and come alive, a first time you realize the world actually can be beautiful and perfect, if only for that one moment. And you also know it’s not going to happen just that way ever again.

And your heart takes a snapshot, if you give pause to let it. And then you will always remember exactly the way the sunlight fell, or a specific shade of blue, or the hum of the refrigerator or the smell of clean cotton. Or the details of someone else’s skin.

I've had a handful of those perfect moments - ones I would not trade for all the gold in the world.

The picture, the details are yours to keep, for when you’re immersed in darkness and blues are blacks, and the refrigerator drives you crazy with its constant buzzing, and it seems you’ve lost your sense of smell - you close your eyes, and surprisingly you experience that moment all over again.
And you miss the details of someone else’s skin or touch.

What is most intriguing about these snapshots is how easily they can provide a measure of comfort as well as one of regret -- of lost opportunities, broken connections and irretrievable time.

6:20 pm  
Blogger Girl said...

Girl -- Paws

Babe, as always, that song is exactly dead-on. One day you should write a movie of your life and pick out the soundtrack and I'll be there, front and centre crying and laughing (hopefully at all the right moments).

It's so wonderful to know someone who is as stable and at peace with her life as you are... it's refreshing to see someone who isn't constantly complaining about the things they don't have because they can't see the things they do. And best of all, it's great to know someone like you, who is all these things, and more, and knows how to put it into words.

12:53 am  
Blogger Girl said...

Girl -- Phizz

"a first time you realize the world actually can be beautiful and perfect" My sentiments exactly! Whatchu talkin' about you can't write beautiful and profound words? I see you write them all the time... your hopes and fears everyday. All that matters is that you're truthful about your feelings and you're brave enough to speak out about them... and the rest just kind of falls into place. You write beautifully.

And if I ever do get to see that diary again, I hope it'll be because we've finally managed to meet and can share another chocolate laden dessert and laugh and dream... it's really been too long, hasn't it?

1:02 am  

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