September, 2010

Morning Delights pt 2

Morning Delights pt 2

“You look wonderful today!” said Marie as I walked in.

“You look as radiant as God’s light,” I remarked back at her. She did look beautiful. Her four diamond earrings were as sparkling as ever.

“Oh, you keep flattering me with your words!”

“Interested in being my partner?” I smiled. A rose painted her face, and she laughed silently.

“Well I am sure most men would disapprove! I am sorry, and although I truly appreciate your offer, I simply cannot accept it.”

“Rejection line taken,” I said, smiling. “Any plans for breakfast?”

“I already had mine, thank you.”

“What did you eat?” I said as I sat opposite of her. She lay down her book, which she seemed to have a special bond with.

“I always have a raw egg and honey in the morning,” she replied.

“Is that true? I have a small jar of honey that my grandmother gave to me…. I am sure you would love it!”

“Oh that it so thoughtful of you!”

“Yes, I am quite thoughtful,” I smiled to myself, “and the small deli on the end of the road sells a great assortment of foodstuff, especially the turkey sandwiches and their tomatoes. He told me they are rain-irrigated and grow on the mountains westwards.”

“I would believe him; no tomato is another’s sibling… I promise I will try them the next time I pass by.”

“That is settled then! Oh, I almost forgot! I drew for you something!”

“Do show me!” she almost jumped over. I gave her a brown carton cylinder from which she pulled out a rolled canvas.

“The picture is absolutely fantastic!” exclaimed Marie in pure shock, as she held what I drew a few hours before. “The lady in the picture looks rather odd but beautiful!”

“I drew an illusion of someone,” I said, almost sad.

“I am sure she looks even more gorgeous in reality.”

“Yes, very true. Her beauty is quite – ” I did not really know.

“I am sure she would be pleased to see herself,” said Marie to break the pause. “Oh, you have ‘April’ written below. Is that her name?”

“I certainly do hold a certain affection to this picture…as I do towards spring. Beauty does not change its name, but it hides in different people.” I felt no inclination to indicate any frames of reference.

“You are a sweet young man. Have you had breakfast?” she switched back to our initial conversation.

“I have been feeding on a different flavor of late.”

“Yes, your chin is wearing thin. Are you sure you are alright?”

“I will be.”

I looked into her eyes and smiled. She turned her back to me to study the space on the wall, assessing the best location to frame the painting. I only hoped she would place it in a way such that I have enough room to paint her the window and the garden.

But I did not tell her anything, and spent the next half an hour instead watching her struggle with positioning the painting, until she found the perfect spot for it, and, satisfied, she brought her attention back to me.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, seeking affirmation.

“I think we should discuss what we should have for lunch.”

Image Credit: Nude in the painting by ~renatadomagalska

Morning Delights

Morning Delights

“So tell me about her!” pleaded Marie. I have told her about my thoughts towards the piano lady and she seemed intrigued by the new piece of information. It felt as though I have broken the routine of every day; I have become a case study in her psychology book.

“The situation is rather complex,” I told her.

“Tell me,” she said. She leaned forward, her hand held her chin. I paced slowly about, my eyes on her.

“It is complex,” I started, not knowing what to say. I really have not thought about it fully. “Because I do not understand the situation objectively,” I managed.

“Oh, but why would you not go for it? It is rare that someone would get this feeling.”

“On the contrary, I am constantly bombarded with affection towards other people. I love at incalculable lengths. Friendship is goodness, love is beauty. The two drive my thoughts.” I have remembered at that moment what I have always been told: Please think carefully. But not with your heart. How would anyone understand…

“You are an exceptional man,” she said encouragingly.

“You are an exceptional woman,” I replied, and lifting the mood I added “with what you are dressing!”

“Oh, stop it,” she said, blushing and laughing. But she was an exceptional woman. Her soul was pure with her love to support other people. Her presence in the building, the neighborhood, and life has surely made a significant impact on the lives of many. She was truly someone to be admired.

“So what do you plan to do today?” she asked. She leaned forward even more. It was interesting to observe people’s physical movements and how they animate in conversations. Her hair above her ears refused to remain seated there, and she had to force the stray ends back into position every now and then. Marie was truly someone who would bring a smile to whoever looked upon her. Her aura filled the entirety of the room with her kindness.

“Perhaps I will write a poem, or draw,” I mused.

“You seem to have the hands of an artist!” she said smiling. Her flattery was almost exhausting.

“Then perhaps you would allow me to paint for you windows on the walls, and a garden, so that whenever you feel that the weather has dimmed, you would imagine yourself sitting in your cabin amidst the meadows.”

“That would be wonderful!” she glowed, clasping her hands together. I could feel her urge to hug me, and I had an urge to hug her as well. But we both refrained, and for a moment anyone who would have walked in might have thought that I was to propose.

“It is a promise then!” I pledged. Her eyes brightened, and her smile covered her face completely. “I will see you soon.”

“I shall be looking forward to it,” she bid me farewell and walked me to the door outside. She was too lovely.

The world was alive outside. The people marched to their respective missions; some seemed to hurry to work, others seemed relaxed and were set to have a snack. Some others simply roamed around, scouting an invisible ornament, and there were a few wailing kids happily following a soccer ball, only to shoot it again and resume the chase.

I roamed around the neighborhood, assuming the role of an aimless tourist. The world seemed was spectacular in its normality. Nothing was extraordinarily beautiful and that was the beautiful aspect of the day.

Image Credit: talking to the girl… by `cweeks

Moment

Moment

For the first time, in a very long time, if not ever, I decided to “live the moment”. And for a while I have never experienced such ecstasy before… every day was not only a new day, but composed of individual hours all beautiful in their own ways.

The morning hours are beautiful in the cool morning sun, the smell of freshly washed linen hanging to dry; taking out the garbage to clean up the apartment; the relaxing (!) drive to work; and listening to the Quran which has become part of my daily routine, whether or not I pray.

The noon hours beautiful in the message exchanges with my loved ones on twitter and on the phone; the thrill of finally getting a hideous work task done; the gratefulness to the fact that it’s part of my job to use twitter and Facebook and even YouTube; being around amazing colleagues, and looking forward to the time I leave the office. Especially if it wasn’t a particularly “good” day. Then I drive home, far outside the city, leaving all problems and worries behind.

The afternoon and evening hours, filled with books (now digital, even) that fill my soul and creativity – like eating. Oh, eating! The joy of eating is one thing I cannot begin to explain. Even if it is a simple cheese sandwich… pressed on the grill, with a cucumber or a salty tomato on the side. And olives! God’s gift to mankind… and my new infatuation with dates! I can eat them all day, feel the textures with my tongue and let them melt in my mouth… much like how I have a Hershey’s or Galaxy.

And I miss having biscuits and tea with my grandmother. Bless her heart.

The night looms, but I am no night owl. I learned that I do and think terrible things if I don’t sleep before midnight. But that’s when I enjoy writing as I am most honest to myself. And I enjoy the flicker of the candles in the background, and the dim lights, with the shadows of the artificial tree in the apartment dance on the walls. I often see shapes and people and a story being made.

And when it’s time to sleep… oh! The smell of the sheets… the feeling of sinking into the mattress!

This is bliss – enjoying moment to moment.

And last night, I slipped, and thought about the future, my life, what I am doing, how I ended up where I am, and the darkness ahead I never manage to see through, and the shadows I left behind out of fear and disgust.

And became depressed.