Whatever happens down
here is absolutely meaningless out there.
Once I walked along the main road near my house, being alone with my thoughts of all those little things in life, issues to sort out, agendas, memories.
I saw cars, houses, the corner shop, the school, basically the same I would see everyday. I saw people of various origin and creed, mothers with children, labourers, and the noisy adolescent brats going home from school. I heard different languages, some polite, some foul, some angry. It was nothing great, nothing special, but still an all different setting than the one it would be if I was in Kabul, for example. Additionally, the mindset and thoughts of people here, in this street, would be another one thousand miles away.
It honestly upset me to see all those members of society who can not live together. They rather exist next to, or even against each other.
I had to look away not to be disturbed and the most comfortable choice was looking up, rather than looking down which only makes sense if it rains, which it didn’t, or if being afraid to stumble, which I wasn’t. Again, I would definitely have done this before, looking up, countless times.
Now I consciously saw the silhouette of trees, roofs, light masts, and most remarkably the blue sky amid the cumulous clouds. That sky I saw here in London was the same that someone else could see in the Sahara, in Sao Paulo or Bombay. At once I was obsessed with such a beautiful thought:
This sky is the ultimate perfection, the only vision that we all see with the same mind-set, be it the child, the mother, the artist, the politician, the racist, the dog.
Probably obscured by different formations of clouds, maybe crossed by one or two aircrafts, the actual sky in its blue or black appearance, is the only constant in our ever altering vision of change. We all can see it, feel it, and breathe it. It is the only eternal.
For a long time I have been fascinated by the idea that watching the sky at night is like travelling through time. We can see a supernova that occurred ages ago, and we can see it happening now, live on air!
The deeper we get into the depths of the sky, the closer we get to the origin of all, the birth of the universe. We get in touch with the cause of every faith that has ever been but all we find is such clear emptiness, without a name, without judgment. There is no right or wrong, no sin, no religion, just the plain pure essence of the sky. There is nothing to defend, there is nothing to live or die for. There are no such events like life or death for that matter, only one eternal source of all being.
Thus all that moves is just an illusive and continuously changing play that we can rate, criticise, desire or avoid. It is a play telling one story in so many variations that there is not just one truth but many.
… whilst undisturbed, though all else moves in its wild increase of speed, the sky is calm, forever still.
Once I walked along the main road near my house, being alone with my thoughts of all those little things in life, issues to sort out, agendas, memories.
I saw cars, houses, the corner shop, the school, basically the same I would see everyday. I saw people of various origin and creed, mothers with children, labourers, and the noisy adolescent brats going home from school. I heard different languages, some polite, some foul, some angry. It was nothing great, nothing special, but still an all different setting than the one it would be if I was in Kabul, for example. Additionally, the mindset and thoughts of people here, in this street, would be another one thousand miles away.
It honestly upset me to see all those members of society who can not live together. They rather exist next to, or even against each other.
I had to look away not to be disturbed and the most comfortable choice was looking up, rather than looking down which only makes sense if it rains, which it didn’t, or if being afraid to stumble, which I wasn’t. Again, I would definitely have done this before, looking up, countless times.
Now I consciously saw the silhouette of trees, roofs, light masts, and most remarkably the blue sky amid the cumulous clouds. That sky I saw here in London was the same that someone else could see in the Sahara, in Sao Paulo or Bombay. At once I was obsessed with such a beautiful thought:
This sky is the ultimate perfection, the only vision that we all see with the same mind-set, be it the child, the mother, the artist, the politician, the racist, the dog.
Probably obscured by different formations of clouds, maybe crossed by one or two aircrafts, the actual sky in its blue or black appearance, is the only constant in our ever altering vision of change. We all can see it, feel it, and breathe it. It is the only eternal.
For a long time I have been fascinated by the idea that watching the sky at night is like travelling through time. We can see a supernova that occurred ages ago, and we can see it happening now, live on air!
The deeper we get into the depths of the sky, the closer we get to the origin of all, the birth of the universe. We get in touch with the cause of every faith that has ever been but all we find is such clear emptiness, without a name, without judgment. There is no right or wrong, no sin, no religion, just the plain pure essence of the sky. There is nothing to defend, there is nothing to live or die for. There are no such events like life or death for that matter, only one eternal source of all being.
Thus all that moves is just an illusive and continuously changing play that we can rate, criticise, desire or avoid. It is a play telling one story in so many variations that there is not just one truth but many.
… whilst undisturbed, though all else moves in its wild increase of speed, the sky is calm, forever still.
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