Thoughts I always have when I am on the bus, or walking along the street. See my string (cheese) theory... I am sad that I don't get to intertwine myself with other people's lives much.
These are the thoughts that I first had as I sat down that morning on the bus. An abnormal sight, or just a typical sight accompanied by atypical thoughts? Who knows.
It was a slightly sad moment then, when I hopped off that bus and saw the woman with the book take off her earphones connected to an iPhone. But, although the illusion of her quaint time traveling was destroyed (she became slightly less interesting to me upon my discovery that she was also not exempt from the technology and conventions of our times), she made a strange impression on me and perhaps even stranger impact on my morning.
It occurred to me again (I say again because I often have such thoughts, just normally at very random and sparse moments), after seeing that woman, that there are so many subtle things to be appreciated in the world, beyond the business of everyday life, beyond the materialism and politics and fights for power and justice and even simply the grinding on to live our lives. I see the water droplets falling down the side windows, all refracting the same orange-blue gradient of the city's sunrise. A thousand tiny bunsen burner flames, orange bases fighting for oxygenated combustion as sun took over the sky and painted our ceiling cerulean: beautiful.
Beyond the traffic on the on ramp onto the motorway is the architecture of our city central. The sharp lines, smooth curves, parallel lines and solid geometries -- manipulation of aesthetic space like I had never seen it before. I marvelled; was I simply usually too oblivious to the view of what I considered to be everyday landscapes? I yearned to take it all in, but it is the emotion inspired that is unfortunately too ephemeral to keep. I knew I'd miss it when I leave -- but then, maybe it was only due to the realisation of leaving that my eyes were opened to these thoughts.
I smile as I see the statue in Albert Park dons a giant orange cone on his head. His 19th century attire and aged bronze skin make him look somewhat like a mockup of a Harry Potter wizard. I slowed to take a picture but felt a bit too self conscious and kept walking. Besides, a picture never quite captures what is saturated in reality.
A bird flies overhead, and lands on the streetlight. A second joins in, flapping its wings more rapidly as it decelerates and lands on the same light. They squawk at each other.
What a wonderful world.
Someone asked me a few days ago, what is it that I live for. What gives me hope, keeps me living, keeps me going in times of sadness and grief? I respond that sadness and grief and tragedy and despair are all part of the human condition, and are not things we will ever be able to escape from. Without them, we would never know the true meaning of happiness either. Appreciate the spectrum of human experiences, even if they are painful. We need not enjoy them, but at least an appreciation of their role in our lives is important to me. Not only this, but I don't think I need to search for hope. It is all around us -- especially in countries like New Zealand, where we actually have the resources to enjoy the world for what it is. No matter what our lives are things to be grateful for.
What I realised after that bus ride is the joy of living in a totally zen moment, without the distractions of our modern and busy lives. Working towards that degree is important, but I must remember to never lose touch with what is solid and real and stable beneath and around us. Appreciate subtle beauty.
