People on the street

The streets are crowded. There are so many people coming and going.

In a typical day I travel to work, hang out there for several hours, then go back home.

In a typical day such as that one, I usually meet anything from 100-600 people I guess. The greatest bulk of those are complete strangers. Chances are most of them are people I will never meet again, and if I do, I won't even recognize them.

Yet it's amazing what simple moments can teach us. I believe that every encounter means something - that in every encounter with another human being there is something to be learned. There's a way to evolve.

The only problem is that we are sometimes too preoccupied with ourselves to notice the lessons.

Sometimes we are too arrogant to notice the lessons.

Whatever the reason, often these critical lessons of life are missed. And that is just sad.

I have learned the majority of what I know about life from observing other people. I have learned from everyone and I hope I can continue to do that. The highest - and lowest - person in the world has the potential of changing us.

Through accepting that, I have found joy in looking at people as I walk or drive down the street. I'm thrilled to see what people are doing when I'm waiting for the train. Every smile, laugh or snarl is a look into the human soul.

As every person holds a piece of the jigsaw, every time I learn something I'm one step closer to completing the puzzle. The puzzle of life. The one thing I'll always strive for.

What I have learned is to never underestimate what others can teach us casually. Everything happens for a reason, no matter how random and insignificant it seems at times.

I'll always remember coming out in a foreign street in a foreign country and meeting someone who would later change my life in many ways. Had I missed the signs then I would've missed some of the most beautiful things in life.

Clouds

When I was very young, I thought that clouds were cotton candy.

That was a lot of cotton candy, enough to satisfy every single hyperactive kid in the world. No one was eating it though which meant that I could have quite a lot of it! I used to devise all manners of ingenious ways of reaching the clouds.

Later on as I grew up, I was taught that clouds are just water vapor. That came as a huge disappointment to me. It made more sense that they were made of cotton candy. They look more like cotton candy than water vapor to me. They were more exciting as cotton candy than water vapor to me.

Every time I’m on a plane, and as we pass above the clouds, I look down and I think how much the clouds still look like cotton candy. Then I remember what I was taught in school and I’m all disappointed again.

As I was on a plane going to South Africa, I looked at the clouds and I thought they don’t look like cotton candy today. The clouds were really dense together. They looked more like powdered sugar that went humid. You know how it starts forming irregular patches? That is exactly what it looked like to me.

Then I realized it was water vapor. What a let down!

Why is it that no matter how much time passes by, the first thing that comes to mind when I look at clouds is just not water vapor. The extremely scientific background I have should actually make it easier for me to see the water vapor rather than cotton candy.

I guess some things from our childhood never die away no matter what. But I also wonder, do I even want to lose those childhood ‘fantasies’? If I look at the clouds and see water vapor, then they would be so boring.

I always look at the clouds. I actually love seeing the clouds and their shapes. I know that there are people who don’t even notice the clouds. Maybe, because the clouds became so mundane when they accepted their nature, those people just lost interest in them.

I can’t imagine losing interest in the clouds!

I could list all the things that still stick to me from my childhood, but I’m afraid I would sound ridiculous :)


What childhood beliefs have stuck along into your adult lives? Lets see how ridiculous it can get! :)

Angels

There are angels on Earth.

It may be rather rare, but sometimes we may run into them. Not the wingy type of angels, more like human angels. They are every bit human, alive and mortal, but they have something extra. They have a saving grace.

I met an angel a few weeks ago. I didn't know it then but later I realized that she is one. She doesn't realize she's an angel, they never do. Even when they are told they are angels, they don't really understand/believe it.

"I don't really know how to be angry at someone. It is not that I forgive easily, I really don't know how to be mad at someone in the first place"

Her words rang in my ear for days and days like I just heard them an hour ago. She is of the purest heart. She was not pretending, she was not trying to impress. She was sincere in ways I have forgotten throughout my life. She is not capable of hurting anyone. She is not even capable of acknowledging when someone hurts her. For that, angels suffer the brutality of humanity more than others. People tend to abuse those who they think are weak. But angels are not weak, they are very strong. It is just their nature that makes them this way. It is their choice.

But this is not all that makes them angels. What really makes them angels is their aura. They have an aura of goodness that surrounds them all the time. People rarely see it. It's not physical, and humans are so attuned to only acknowledging what's physical. But the aura is there and it is so strong. When I met that angel, I knew there was something special. I could not see the aura but I felt it - and I felt it every strongly.

Their goodness aura brings out the best in people. No matter how horrible we are, there is always at least a grain of goodness in us. In the presence of an angel, that grain of goodness will come to the top. In a way, their presence makes us better people, better partners, better co-workers and better businessmen.

Ironically, it is that same goodness aura that makes them burn out early. It is so cruel, but it is the truth. And when one of them burns out, they are left an empty shell struggling to find their place in a life that they can't recognize. A life they are too pure for.

I am so happy to have met that angel. For I need someone to bring out the little good in me every now and then.

If she burns out, it would truly break my heart. For I know what she is better than everyone else.

I'm so grateful to have her as my friend.

The Storyteller

It was hard to walk against the wind. The sands of the desert flew against my face and hurt my eyes.

The sun glazed down with a vengeance. I walked on - determined and motivated by what I did not know. I had to fight against the forces of nature which teamed up against me.

Suddenly he was standing there. He was an unimpressive sight. In another time and place he would have merely been a face among the crowd.

"Why have you come?" he said as he looked me in the eyes. As he did so, his eyes bore into my soul.

All the forces of nature that I had been fighting against suddenly stopped. They too were listening intently to know the answer to the man's question.

I spoke of my quest for knowledge. There is so much to know and learn. I had come in search of the storyteller, and I had found him. I wondered if I deserved to hear what he had to say.

"Tell me of the worlds that died away"

"No world has every died"

"But no one knows of them but you now"

"That is why I'm the storyteller. I'm the keeper of tales. The worlds live inside of me."

"Will you speak to me of them then?"

"The question is not whether I would speak of them. The question is whether you would hear of them."

And he spoke. It was a one-man audience, but there were millions of listeners. The wind dropped to a breeze that surrounded us. The sands rose to hear the words of the storyteller. The clouds drew closer, keen to learn. And he spoke. And his words became magic.

He spoke of kings and castles, of wars and love. He spoke of dragons with wings that covered the lands when they spread. He spoke of angels and demons, of death and rebirth, of magic and fairies. His words created worlds of sea pirates and space travelers.

And as he spoke, the magic began to materialize. I was not hearing anymore. Slowly my world was stripped away and I was taken to a million worlds with the storyteller. I was a king and peddler. I was a god amongst the pagan gods. And he kept talking, and his words stripped my reality and built his stories. I was the hero of every story and I was the least important character of each story. I was a sea pirate and a space traveler.

And slowly the worlds started to disappear and I was in the desert again. In front of me stood an old man. On any other day he would have merely been a face among the crowd. But he was not.

He was the storyteller. He was the creator of worlds.

As he looked at me, he smiled. Not another word was uttered. They were not needed. Everything that needed to be said had already been said. Everything that needed to be learned had been taught.

Words were the weakest mode of communication.

The winds sighed in satisfaction. The sands settled in peace. All nature has shared in the experience of the storyteller.

I understood the storyteller's smile. He was happy. His worlds now lived inside of me. He has been immortalized. Yet he was also satisfied. My worlds now lived inside of him as well. I have been immortalized.

I had never grown up. I refused to let go. I had chosen to remain a little boy inside forever.

So has the storyteller.

Global citizen

I learned something new today. I learned that every time I travel somewhere, a part of that place is imprinted into my soul. Somehow, I become that place. I keep it inside of me forever and even though I will never have a passport for it, I become a citizen – in my own way.

If my life remains the way it has been so far, and I'm certainly hoping that it does, then I might one day become a global citizen. I'd belong everywhere. Now this may sound nice when you say it out loud, it might sound like the solution to all of Mankind's problems. But I believe that it comes with its share of problems.

Once you become a global citizen, you lose 90% of your link to your original citizenship. You don't feel part of it anymore. A global citizen has assimilated so many different cultures that they just lose their original. I met a global citizen the past 2 days, she has confirmed this exactly as I always thought.

I don't know if that will be good for me or not. All I know is that I am on an incredible journey of discovery. I have always strived on discovery, even when I didn't know it. Learning about everything and everywhere is all I ever really care about doing in my life. Good or bad, I can't wait to be a global citizen.

I have just assimilated a new culture. Every success and every failure – it's all inside of me. It didn't take too long either. Three days in Amman, Jordan, were enough for that. I have walked streets that residents never did. I believe there's no better way to know a city or town than walking its streets. I loved the mysterious Arabian atmosphere of the place. It has its very own and distinct aura.

Built on hillsides, the city is a maze of narrow streets going steeply up or down. It's like an old medieval city – even though it's not that old. Some friends drove me up a high hill and I looked down and it was one of the most fantastic things I have ever seen. Spreading down in front of me in the valley and all the way up on the side of the hill opposite the one I was standing on lay Amman. My only regret is that I did not have my camera on me at that time. However, that was a missed chance to capture this beauty for other people's eyes. But it will live in my eyes forever.

I think many people will not enjoy Amman. But absolutely loved it. It depends really on what you are looking for. If you go out looking for something fancy, you'll hate Amman and you'll love a place like Dubai and everything it stands for. If you are like me, however, out to see something special, to see a culture, then Amman is the place for you. I hate Dubai. I think it's a generic, cold, lifeless city. But Amman is the ideal Arabic city vibrant with architecture and a life that is local to this area of the world. A very very wonderful person I met there took me to a cafe called "Old View". The cafe, located on a hilltop, overlooks the old segment of the city. We went there at sunset. The old city lay on the hillside, with old beautiful mosques dotted between the homes and the old citadel (or what remains of it) standing at the top of one of the hills. This is what I traveled here to see. This is what Dubai will never be.

The people who live here have got to be the friendliest people in the world. Everyone I met has been extremely nice and welcoming to me. It was beautiful! I came here with no friends and I'm leaving with many people that I hold very dear in my heart. The variations of friends I made is also something that always bring a smile to my face. From the clubbing wild group to the kind intelligent girl. From the Jordanian to people from a dozen different countries. My trip had it all, and I shared something with all.

I would love to come back to this place. There are secrets hidden beneath the sands, things waiting to be learned. I have so much more to absorb out of it and I can't wait to do it. But meanwhile, there are other cultures waiting for me.

'Is life really bad?'

"Is life really bad?"

"Yes I think life is bad. Why are you asking?"

"Because everyone tells me it is bad - for once I wish someone would tell me otherwise"

And then there were tears in her eyes.

Ever since I had this conversation, I can't stop thinking about her words. The question came so suddenly. We were just driving in the car and listening to good music. It was such a desperate search that I could practically smell despair in the question.

In the darkest night, she was just looking for something keep her alive – to keep her sane. She was grasping desperately for a reason to live. Once you believe with your body and soul that life is horrible, then I don't see a single reason to live it. By that I don't mean suicide, but there are many people alive but not living. They become like zombies.

She turned to me to find that reason for life. When she turned to me, I killed her with my words. Harsh words, but they are all I knew. They were all I felt. I was desperate too.

I think that a lot of how we see the world really falls down to how others perceive the world. And that is what I learned today.

Just by learning that, I realize I've destroyed the lives of many many people who believed in me and my views of the world. When I gave up, I caused many others to give up. The failure just multiplied. And maybe when I gave up, it was due to someone else giving up. And it can continue to no end.

I find it very scary to know that I may wield that kind of power. And if it is so, then how can I give up without selfishly causing someone else to give up too?

It's similar to the butterfly effect.

As I was walking down the road thinking about all this, I passed by a garbage collector. The old man looked at me with kind eyes. It felt like he could read into me somehow – yet we've never met before. I smiled at him as I passed by and suddenly I stopped.

"How are you doing today," I asked him.

"I'm thankful to God. Life is good and I'm just fine," came the unexpected reply with an unexpected smile.

But life was not good for the old man. I knew it. I could see it. He was struggling through life in the most severe of ways. But he wasn't lying either. That was how he perceived the world. That could very well be the result of someone who showed the old man that life was not bad. Someone who has given him hope. While he was barely surviving, he was alive.

He was lucky he didn't know me. Maybe I would have done to him what I did to her.

I remain confused on how to solve the dilemma. If I have lost hope, if I have given up, how can I make sure I don't pass this along to others?