THE BLESSED CITY- Khalil Gibran

In my youth I was told that in a certain city every one lived according to the Scrip- tures.

And I said, "I will seek that city and the blessedness thereof." And it was far. And I made great provision for my journey. And after forty-days I beheld the city and on the forty-first day I entered into it.

And lo! the whole company of the inhabitants had each but a single eye and but one hand. And I was astonished and said to myself, "Shall they of this so holy city have but one eye and one hand?"

Then I saw that they too were astonished, for they were marvelling greatly at my two hands and my two eyes. And as they were speaking together I inquired of them saying, "Is this indeed the Blessed City, where each man lives according to the Scriptures?" And they said, "Yes, this is that city."

"And what," said I, "hath befallen you, and where are your right eyes and your right hands?"

And all the people were moved. And they said, "Come thou and see."

And they took me to the temple in the midst of the city. And in the temple I saw a heap of hands and eyes. All withered. Then said I, "Alas! what conqueror hath committed this cruelty upon you?"

And there went a murmur amongst them. And one of their elders stood forth and said, "This doing is of ourselves. God hath made us conquerors over the evil that was in us."

And he led me to a high altar, and all the people followed. And he showed me above the altar an inscription graven, and I read:

"If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. And if thy right hand offend thee, cut if off and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of the members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell."

Then I understood. And I turned about to all the people and cried, "Hath no man or woman among you two eyes or two hands?"

And they answered me saying, "No, not one. There is none whole save such as are yet too young to read the Scripture and to understand its commandment."

And when we had comeout of the temple, I straightway left that Blessed City; for I was not too young, and I could read the scripture.

The night, one b'ful l'le star & the Dawn!

One night I saw one b'ful l'le star

Dancing on the dark carpet of night
It shone ‘n’ made me smile
For it was b’ful- just like a dream
‘n’ I felt oh yeah, This is the one!
This is the one I was waiting for!
I was so excited that I could barely
Stay still or hold a thought in my head
‘n’ so I smiled ‘n’ smiled ‘n’ smiled
I built a castle in the sky
I built a stairway
I built a world around that shining star
‘n’ while I was busy making it
The night died ‘n’ hence the star
I looked at it one last time
It still looked b’ful
It shone ‘n’ made me cry
‘n’ then the next moment it disappeared
Into the sky…

And then something happened
I saw something even more b’ful
I asked life, “What is it?”
She said, “Dawn”!

It is the dawn!

...

Synecdoche, New York

What was once before you - an exciting, mysterious future - is now behind you. Lived; understood; disappointing. You realize you are not special. You have struggled into existence, and are now slipping silently out of it. This is everyone’s experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone’s everyone . . . All her meager sadnesses are yours; all her loneliness; the gray, straw-like hair; her red raw hands. It’s yours. It is time for you to understand this.


As the people who adore you stop adoring you; as they die; as they move on; as you shed them; as you shed your beauty; your youth; as the world forgets you; as you recognize your transience; as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one; as you learn there is no-one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving - not coming from any place; not arriving any place. Just driving, counting off time. Now you are here, at 7:43. Now you are here, at 7:44. Now you are…

Gone.

–Charlie KaufmanSynecdoche, New York

“The Hidden Music”

My frustrations, my troubles are my handicaps that make me lose myself completely and make me feel weak… In such a moment of weakness one day I decided to pack my bags and go some place away from everything… even myself… And so I just had my bags packed and left… I took a bus to place I went an year back…

I got down at the station… it was late in the evening and so I couldn’t find anything or anyone to take me to the hotel… so I started walking towards the hotel… all the while I felt as if someone was following me… For a long time I couldn’t find anyone… and then at one point I looked back and found a man at one corner… It was getting dark so I could barely see his face. I stopped for a moment and then carried on… towards that hotel…

Some fifteen minutes of walk and I was there… I went to the reception and finalized a room for myself… the receptionist called up the room attendant to help me with my luggage… I looked at the guy… a handicapped man struggling to walk or even stand… there was something wrong with his back… I looked at him… he took my back sack and started walking… the room was at the first floor… Seeing that the guy was struggling with my luggage, I offered to help but he declined saying, “it’s my job!”… I didn’t insist! He opened the door of the room and got in… I looked at the room- it had one big window at the centre of one wall opening to the street in front of the hotel… he opened the curtains… I went to the window, looked outside and asked him,” Do you belong to this place?” He said no. “It’s one of the things I love best about this place. Everyone came from somewhere else.

“I hope you’ll be very comfortable here. Please call down if you need anything.

“There are no flowers. Is it possible to get some flowers in the room… violets? Or… I love violets. I am not expecting you to buy them of course if you don’t have ‘em.”

“I am sure I can find some violets!” he said and left smiling…

After a while he returned with a big purple flower.

I was surprised and asked him, “how did you do that?”.

“I didn’t do anything, you must have requested them. They were downstairs in the lobby.

“No, I didn’t!”

“All the better”.

“Incredible”, I said… looking at the flower.

“So you’re lucky. These violets were waiting for you.

He smiled and asked me, “Are there any other miracles I can perform?”

I looked at him and said, “Oh, I doubt it!”… with a sigh…

He stopped smiling and turned away and suddenly fell to the ground… I rushed to him and helped him sit. He was bleeding. I took a tissue and helped him clean the blood coming out of his nose. “Are you alright? Put your head back. Are you in pain?” I asked. I stood up and went to the toilet to get some first aid. I returned but he was gone. I looked at the door for long…

I went for a shower, got dressed… took the flower and looked in the mirror. I was thinking about all that has happened in the past… all the struggles I had to go through… I was lost in my thoughts when someone knocked at the door. It was the same guy.

He looked at me and said,” I have something for you!”.

He entered with a coffee tray.

“The mystery of the violets is solved. My father is manager here at the hotel. He’s very happy you’ve returned to the hotel. He admires you sir. He says he heard you sing last time when you were here.

“Please thank him”, I said.

“Delhi is a place I wish to visit.”

“Would you like me to serve coffee, sir?”

“Perhaps.” And I closed the door.

“Would you join me? Please…” I asked.

He accepted and smiled pleasantly looking at me while pouring the coffee in the cup. All the while he was looking at me and by the look on his face I felt as if he was trying to hear something… some kind of music probably…

“You seem so sad. No one so young should be so sad.”, I asked looking at him.

“Do you sing?”, he asked.

“I used to but not anymore. I lost my music!”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I would have loved to hear you sing.

You are too cold. Surely! How can you bear it? Don’t know how you can bear it?”, he said and went to the window to close it.

I was smiling looking at him… moving away… He faded away into the light coming into the room… I could see him no more… and then I heard a thud… I rushed to the window and looked down. He was lying there on the street… bleeding… dead!

It took some time to get a grip of myself… I called up the manager.

“I can’t see anything, sir. Did you see something in the street?”- asked the manager.

“Would you like me to close the window for you sir. It’s very cold in here.”

Yes, I nodded. Please close the window.

“The manager is very happy that you are here again. He remembered your love for the violets and hopes you enjoyed them.”

“Please thank him.”, I said and smiled.

He left soon afterwards.

I thought about everything that had happened. My journey to that place. That feeling that someone was following me. That guy at a distance, I saw on the way to the hotel. The room attendant, his piercing eyes, the violet flower, the manager, the blood and death dancing on his face. I smiled thinking about it. I realized it was all but a figment of my imagination. That handicapped guy struggling to walk was the other me who follows me wherever I go. He’s a part of me who limps and struggles and bleeds...

At that precise moment all my troubles evaporated and what was left of them was just a smile… a pure smile… gently resting on my face… and I found my hidden music back… I was singing… and smiling… in silence…

I returned!

a gift- an invisible chain... better resolution!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcc-EkA33vQ

For a friend... a brother!

The Dive...

"Song of Childhood"

When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.

When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?

When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.

When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.

It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.

When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.

When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.

When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.

When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.

- Peter Handke 
- from the german movie "wings of desire"