How Have You Been?

I am thinking of you, and you, and you. Of all the people from my past. You see I have time now. It makes me sad when I can't remember the face that used to matter once. Sometimes all I remember is words as if they are still ringing in my ears. Or I can see them on my photographic memory display, if they were first typed and then sent to me. With some people all I remember is the feeling: how I felt when they were around and then how I felt when they were gone.

When I get lonely, I imagine meeting someone from the past, things we would talk about, questions we'd ask. I know I've changed but will they like the new me? I like this version of myself better but maybe they will think that all my flair has been lost. But then again I won't care as much what they think.

I'm not in the midst of things anymore. I am on the edge, comfortably close to people yet safely detached. There's still so much I need to understand about interaction and the right balance between opening up and shielding what no one needs to see. At least for the time being. And I wish I had a better understanding of how much I am allowed to affect someone in order to make a positive difference as opposed to causing pain.

But today I'm thinking that if we were to bump into each other by chance, I would be nice to you, and smile an encouraging smile that would melt the ice of the past. I would ask you what's new in your life and tell you what's new in mine. I would say it was great seeing you again and walk away knowing that we'll never see each other again. Because if life gives us a chance to make things right, it means that deep inside we needed a closure to the situation of the past, without which we cannot move into the future.

All you have to do during this random encounter is ask me "why". And I would say to some of you that I didn't know better, or that I was scared, or that I did it for your benefit even though it hurt us both. Then maybe you could finally erase my name from your memory, or remove the negative imprint I've left on your soul. And knowing that you've moved on, I would stop seeing you in my dreams and move on too.

Imagine, Create, Transform

Mental acuity was never born from comfortable circumstances. Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

Every day is a new chapter and it starts from a blank page. We get to write whatever we want on it. Some of us choose to leave it only half full, others copy most of what was written the previous day and just throw in a new word here and there. There are pages where words are so many that they are literally crammed into the limited space. But mostly the words are sparse and monotonous to the point they lose the meaning behind the all-too-familiar curves.  

I come up with projects, put together lists, challenge myself and add as much new to my routine as I comfortably dare. But days are just passing by without taking my breath away. And this passage of time takes over my waning enthusiasm and I let these days just be, soothed by their monotony and the abundance of feeling-good time. But sooner or later too much comfort turns to discomfort. I'm losing my train of thought because my brain turns too mushy-sleepy. There was this very important thought I wanted to mull over I tell myself, but I don't remember what it was or why it was so meaningful. But the escapee is irretrievably gone and I can't say I miss it.  

And then I get scared: so tomorrow will be just like today, and like the day to follow? But life gives us a major breakthrough only a limited amount of times. And mostly when we are least prepared and totally unexpectant. It doesn't mean we should sit back and relax till the next big turn of events. Every day is a new chapter and we get to decide how much to write so that the following chapters pick up from a more interesting point. The cause-and-effect relationship of our daily decisions with the events that follow must be one of the most unexplored areas of the science of human destiny. We can open one tiny side door and find ourselves in a totally new world; once the terrain shifts everything changes and we can't always track what caused this transformation of things. Neither do we have the time to play the if-game as we are forced to deal with the new circumstances. But that's precisely what makes everyday life so thrilling: the possibility of experiments, the little steps you take, this stirring motion of yours that sends ripples beyond all traceable points. And then you just wait how the universe will respond.