Magic of It

Hold it in your hand and unleash the magic.

Take me to the places I’ve never been and let me feel the earth under my feet and the wind on my face.

Feed my emotions. Nurture them like a little baby eager to feed. Create them, kill them, and see them reborn. Give them a body and soul so that I may see them and experience them in ways never done before. Now they are more than feelings. They are living, breathing creatures. Creatures of myth, of fire and mayhem, of rocks and boulders, of flowing rivers and huge waterfalls.

Hold it in your hand and do the thing that no one can do better than you.

Play it and recapture every sense I possess. Make every nerve in my body a slave to you. I sway with it. I rise and fall, I am here and there, I’m me and I’m every living organism. I’m as small as an insect then as huge as a giant. I cry – but the tears won’t come running down. I evolve and fly out with the notes. They take me where they go, tempt me with their every move. As pure as the morning dew on the autumn leaves.

I close my eyes, but I can still see. I can still hear it, breathe it, taste it, feel it. I rule the world, and yet I’m slave to your every whim.

Hold it in your hand and lose yourself again.

Energize me, invigorate me, make me live again. Show me that the stars are closer than the tip of my nose. I reach out for them, juggle them and create what you create. Yet it’s not half as beautiful as what you create.

Give me power and I move like never before. I move and stroll through the woods. I stroll through the skies, unhindered and uncontrolled. I go where it goes, I follow obediently.

I break out into energy and I levitate. It’s like I rule the world. Nothing can stop me as sparks burst out of my fingers. I’m scary, I’m beautiful. I’m vain, yet I’m humbled at it all.

My soul rises – freed from its shackles and floats around. It shows me the farthest reaches of everything I once dreamed. It all slowly materializes before me. And as my soul flies around, the dreams are built, lived, and then they disappear. Every wrong decision is relived, every missed opportunity is explored, every love is cherished.

Hold it in your hand and take me in again.

And slowly you take me down to earth. To my worldly world. To the life of Men. And my soul floats back in, breathes a sigh of relief, and we are whole again. For it yearned for a second of liberation, and you gave my soul its wish. And so it comes to an end.

And I stand there, realizing how small I truly am. It was never about me. It was always you. It was always what you held in your hand. For the way you do it is reminiscent of ancient, pagan magic that died long ago.

You’ve shown me life in a way that life never showed me. And then it slowly ends.

Hold it in your hand and never let go.

Acts Of Kindness

I never knew his name. But for a few minutes, he became my favorite person in the world.

The young man was just another face among hundreds to me. Nothing special there at all. I didn't even notice him as I got on the train, making my way home through the underground.

As the train pulled into a station, an old man got on the extremely crowded car I was in.

But then something unexpected happened. The young man took one look at him, and, without a trace of hesitation, got up to give his chair to the old man. He protested, but the young man insisted on this. The old man smiled as he sat down. As soon as he touched the seat, he let out a sigh of relief. He was tired. The look on his face was priceless, for it was worth everything.

Now you may ask what's the big deal. Well, I hardly see these random acts of kindness nowadays. I miss the life I never lived when that was the norm.

Suddenly, everyone disappeared and I could only see that young man. At that instance he had more in common with me than anyone in the world.

He was my personal hero. He was the best thing on the whole train to me.

I never knew his name and as I got off the train, I knew I'll never know it.

But though we might never cross paths again, he will never be forgotten.

Thank you for reminding me of the best of humanity.

Sadness (Friend)

I hate to see you this way my friend. I hate to see you sad.

You have no idea what that does to me. It's just like everything goes out of prospective all of a sudden. Things don't make sense anymore. I really can't bear to see you sad like that.

I wish there was something I can do.

I wish I can just stand up and scream something that would cheer you up.
But I don't know what to do.

Those around me know that my biggest problem is feeling helpless. I just can't bear that feeling. I always want to believe there is something I can do to change things. But right now I feel helpless.

I wish I can cheer you up. I wish I can make things better for you.

Say a word – or just smile, and you can make me the happiest person right now. Because I don't want you to be sad anymore my friend. You are far too precious. That's all I can think of right now.

Maybe I am not so helpless at the end of the day. Maybe there is something to be done. Maybe I just need to lay my fingers on the right thing to do.

I don't want to see you sad my friend. I just want to see you happy and well.
And I will.

Only cuz you are my friend.

The Symphony

I am in love with everything around me. I've fallen in love with life. I've fallen in love with everything beautiful. I've fallen in love with everything horrible and wicked.

I love the faces I see everyday – even when they are worn or angry. Every places I have visited on Earth has left its mark on my soul, scarring me forever. And I love it.

I love it all because of the harmony that exists in everything. Life – that wild, untamed monster – is so perfectly in harmony that it defies all reason. That is why it is so hard for us to really believe it is in harmony. We tend to think that it is unfair, wicked to some and kind to some. But that is not true. It is perfectly balanced. I'm not going to rant about how each person gets something and loses something – that is not what I am about. Even thinking in terms of humans only is a simplistic and insulting notion.

This is bigger than humans or animals or birds or whatever. This is about everything at the same time. How everything falls together and plays out the same tune.

It is my firm belief that – amidst all the different melodies of life – there exists a symphony. A symphony to bring all the melodies together. A beautiful creation of love, hate and everything else. If we can listen carefully, if we would take the time to listen closely, maybe – just maybe – there is a chance to hear that symphony. And if you ever do hear it, my God it is the most beautiful, liberating, invigorating feeling ever! It is like being reborn. It is the symphony of the harmony of life. It is the most beautiful sound ever created.

It is like finally understanding. It's like all the pieces falling in place at the same time. Everything might be falling around you but it'll still make sense. You would understand that – in everything horrible – there's beauty. And in everything beautiful there is horridness.

Have I ever heard that symphony? No. But I know it exists. And I know it is worth searching for my whole life. I have heard many of the melodies and I know that one day I will hear the symphony too. The question is, are you ready to search?

I would show you everything I know so far – but everything is too extreme. Maybe it is best to wait and see if you are ready or not. After all, the symphony is not going anywhere.

The Troll

The only thing the troll ever really wanted was to be a man. He hated being troll.

As he looked at his reflection in the pond, he hated being ugly - he wanted to be a handsome human. He hated how people hated looking at him. He wanted people to love looking at him as he passed down the street.

But he was a troll. And everyone knows that trolls are never handsome.

In spite of that, every creature in the forest loved the troll. He was good to them all. When the residents of the forest gathered to talk, the troll's name always came up with love. They always talked of the goodness in his heart. His parents have raised him up to be very special.

But the troll wanted to be handsome. The troll wanted to be a human.

As the troll walked through the forest one day, he crossed paths with the kingdom's prince.

"oh dear Lord! Go away you ugly monster," said the prince.

The prince of the kingdom was so handsome. Nobody hated looking at him. He was not like the troll.

The troll lowered his head in shame. It was true. He was ugly. He was a monster. He was nothing compared to the incredibly handsome prince.

The prince spat at him and left.

Only a minute later, a hutched witch came out from inbetween the trees. "What do you think of the prince, young troll?" said the old witch.

"He is so handsome. He is - he is human," mumbled the troll.

"What would you give me if I can make you look like the prince?"

The troll's eyes glittered. "I'd give you anything you ever want!" he exclaimed.

"Don't be so hasty, I might ask for that which you cannot give," said the witch. "But I will cut you a deal. I will turn you into the crown prince, everything about you will become him. All I ask in return is 1% of your kingdom. You have 60 days then you must give me the land."

Hastily, the troll agreed to the witch's deal. There was nothing to consider. The deal was too good to be true, it fulfilled every need the troll ever had in his life.

"The deal shall be written in blood young troll. Cut your finger and I'll cut mine. We will mix our bloods. If you ever go back on your promise, I will break the spell and you will become an uglier troll than you already are."

The troll used his claws to cut his little finger and dripped his blood to mix with the old witch's blood.

There was a bright flash of light. Sparks danced everywhere around the troll. The witch disappeared, the trees began to disappear and quickly the ground disappeared.

The troll woke up a few hours later. His legs felt weird. They were all wobbly as he stood up. He looked at his hands and gasped in shock. He had human hands. He had human arms. He quickly ran to the pond that he stared at a million times before but this time it was different. This time, the most handsome face looked back at him.

Unable to contain his happiness, the now-human troll ran to the castle. As he approached the doors the guards bowed and opened the door to him.

"I am the prince!" he exclaimed wildly.

It didn't take too long for the young troll to become the prince. He quickly fell into his new luxurious life. In less than a month he was acting exactly like the prince.

But the days went by, and he didn't keep count. He had all but forgotten his promise to the witch. However, on the 55th day of their deal, the witch showed up to him.

"How are you doing your highness?" she said.

"What brings you here you old hog! And how did you get past the guards?" replied the prince troll angrily.

"Relax" she said. "I can go anywhere I want. Walls and guards don't stop me. I come to remind you of our deal. In five days, if you don't give me 1% of your kingdom and fulfill your deal, you will become an uglier troll than you ever was!"

The prince panicked. He didn't want to go back. He wanted to remain prince!

"But I don't own the kingdom yet. The king - my father - is alive and he owns the kingdom."

"I have spoken, young prince. You have less than a week." Then she disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The prince tried in vain for the next four days to find ways to break the spell. Nobody knew how to break the witch's deal.

The prince sat in his bed on the fourth night. That was his last night as prince. He would do anything to fulfill his promise. He'd even give the witch half the kingdom - if only he owned it.

He quickly lifted his head. If I owned it - he thought.

The prince got up, crept through the corridors to his parent's room. He opened the door gently. He looked down at the king and queen, sleeping peacefully. They have been very good to him ever since he became the prince.

Without a second thought, he pulled out his hunting knife and stubbed the sleeping king and queen. The yelped for help, but no one heard them.

He ran out into the corridor and out through the main gates. He ran into the dark night and the falling rain.

"I am ready to fulfill my debt you wicked witch!" shouted the prince into the night.

The witch limped out from between the trees. "So you are king now? Can I have my 1% of the kingdom?"

"Take it and leave this place and never come to my kingdom again."

"I will young king. You will never see me again. But I do want to ask you something before I leave. You have done all this to escape being a monster.

Who's the monster now? The troll in you, or the prince in you?"

Death

Someone once told me that death is the biggest reality of life. Although this statement had all the hallmarks of depth and wisdom, I don’t agree.

I have several problems with that statement actually.

To begin with, death is not really a reality. A reality is something that has a definite, quantitative value. Yet death is far from that. We view death as the end of life, but there is much we ignore if we stick to this narrow view.

For starters, there are many people who are very much alive physically yet dead emotionally or spiritually. Do you call them alive or dead? Have you ever heard someone say they feel "dead inside"? How do you qualify those?

Then there is the fact that death sometimes heralds the start of things. Where one story ends, another story begins. As a man dies somewhere in the world, the cries of a newborn will ring somewhere else. Sometimes the death of a loved one can shock relatives who have never talked – or people who hated each other – into giving their relationships another chance. Is this death – or is it life?

The second problem I have is the fact that – for some weird reason – we always associate death with life. How can death be the biggest reality of life when the truth is, it is a way of making life cease to have any meaning to most people.

Death is just death. It cannot be quantified but neither can it be seen in relation to life. The biggest reality in life is life itself. The moment of death is irrelevant. It only matters what we did in the years of life we had before death stepped in the picture. It only matters if we made the best of life.

Death is a fleeting moment. A vivid vision that quickly fades away. But life lives on forever. It is the lives of great people that are remembered, not their deaths. That is their greatest reality. Beethoven created some of the best classic music in history even though he was nearly deaf. That is his life – that is his reality.

Shakespeare was the biggest playwright the world has ever seen. The plays that he wrote are his biggest reality as they play out every day all over the world. His death is insignificant. A fleeting moment.

And it was Shakespeare who, in understanding this reality, wrote the best description of death ever conceived. In the final chapter of his play Julius Caesar, he explains it in the simplest of manners – yet the most descriptive of manners.

He simply says "And he died."

That's it.

No splendor, no glory.

The most beautiful description of death ever wrote.

And that was the sea

It was morning and the sun shone with a vengeance down on me. But that didn't deter me from going out. I put on my sneakers, favorite t-shirt and went out walking.

Lost in my thought, a distinct smell crept up my nose. It was the sea. For a person who does not live in a seaside city or town, I love the sea too much. My feet took me there, for there was no other place I was meant to be.

As the fine sand of the beach found its way into my sneakers, I could hear children laugh. They were running around the beach, a couple throwing a ball, while another was building castles in the sand. Many were wading in the sea, splashing water on each other, dodging waves and giggling as the water hit their faces.

It was happiness and good times. It was fun in the sun.

And that was the sea.

Sweating after my walk in the dazzling sun, I took off my clothes and took off my sneakers. I loved the feeling of the sand under my feet as I walked towards the sea. The cold water tickled my toes as the waves broke on the beach and in a minute, I was neck deep in the sea. The water was crystal clear and I could see schools of fish jotting around.

Invigorating. Rejuvenating. It was like being reborn.

And that was the sea.

Then the beach faded. And the shoreline disappeared. I was on a ship. The ship sailed gracefully through the calm waters. All around me were people with mixed emotions. The ship was loaded with dreams and fears. Loaded with hopes and broken hearts. But most importantly, it was far from the shoreline. It was in the middle of the sea. All there was now was the sea. It was the source of all the mixed emotions. It was home to the dreams of a wonderful life for the newly-wed, but it was also home to the broken heart of the lady leaving her family behind.

And that was the sea.

Then a storm stole over us. Suddenly, the clear blue sky was gone, and so was the tranquil slow rocking of the ship as it gleefully cut through the sea. The storm raged, and the sea was angry. Senseless anger, the kind that swallows everything up. Suddenly all emotions disappeared. There was only the anger - and the fear it spurns in the hearts of people.

The sea raged in anger. It was senseless, it was unequivocal. What did the storm do to anger the sea so badly? There was no logic in the anger. It was just an intense flood of emotion that wrapped itself around everyone, and put everyone at risk. No one was safe of the sea's fury. The ship tossed and turned like a leaf in the autumn winds. Salty water splashed my face and burned my eyes and nostrils. Even the creatures living in the sea, those that love the sea, were hurt by the anger. It was gloomy under the darkened sky and the sea was dark and murky. For everyone who tasted the sea's temper, there was fear of perishing in it.

And that was the sea.

Then the storm passed, and as quickly as it came, the anger faded away. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The sea was full of love for all living things again. It became extra calm to make up for the storm. It took care to spur gentle winds to help the ship reach its aim. The dark, foreboding waters gave way to clear turquoise waters again. The dolphins and fish jumped happily as they were treated to extra food by the sea. Suddenly the ship was close to shore again and the sea was dotted with fishermen boats. The fishermen pulled in nets full of fish. The extra calm meant extra fish. Extra fish meant extra money.

The sea was giving. The sea was kind.

And that was the sea.

And I stood on the shore and looked out at the sea. It was a million things at the same time. And it reminded me of someone.

The sea was special. The sea was me.

Making a memory

Memories are peculiar on so many levels. No one understands why some memories last a few seconds while others last a lifetime. Why is it that I forgot most people I met this year while I remember childhood friends that I haven't seen in over 15 years?

For so many years, I have strove to meet new people. Usually I drift into their lives, affect them in several ways, and then drift out again - forgotten. I don't mind it. I'm used to it and I do believe that in part, this is my role in life. I just hope that the effects I leave on their lives are mostly positive. Thus, even when I'm forgotten, a part of me lives on.

But sometimes I don't want to be forgotten. I want to create a memory with someone. I want to live in their minds for a lifetime - even after I'm long gone. Memories are still peculiar, but I have realized that they mostly live in first times. The first times of everything are always the time when memories are created. The first time you ran away from school - you'll remember who jumped the fence with you. The first time you have a crash on someone - you'll always remember who they were for the rest of your life.

I have tried to make memories with every meaningful person who has entered my life. This could be the smallest thing to the biggest thing. It doesn't matter how serious or ridiculous it is, memories of first-times are always the strongest.

This way I'm sure that even when I disappear from their lives, there will always be things that will remind them of me. This has been so important to me because these people are so important to me.

Do you share any first-time memories with me? :)

The perfect dream

I have said many times before that I am a dreamer. I dream of things that make me happy. But today I chose to dream up a world.

Bear with me as I take you into the world I created. The world as it was always meant to be. The perfect world.

In my world, humans are beautiful creatures. They are creatures made of love. Love for nature, love for life, love for each other. In my dreams humans do not form clans and groups. Humans don't go to extremes to try to find things to differentiate between each other.

My dream, after all, is made of complete love. Love is blind, and that is practically the beauty of my dream world.

In m dream, your color doesn't make a difference. It really doesn't make a difference, not the crappy lie that the real world is living right now. Black, white, brown, yellow, there is beauty in all. And inside the skin, there really is no difference at all. The souls all look the same. The souls don't recognize the skin color, only we do.

In the world I created, there are no boundaries between countries. We are all one. We are all of Earth. We don't need to differentiate by calling someone an American and another a Bangladeshi. Strip everything away and you have two identical people, each struggling to make it through life in their own way and with their own dreams.

In my dream, parents are not instilling racist sentiments into their little kids. White parents are not freaking out when they see their child playing ball with a black kid. Rich people are not screaming at their children because they made friends with the doorman's child.

In my dream, people are not fighting over religion. They are finally able to understand that they have 90% in common. They finally realize they can't stay fixated on the 10% they don't agree on and they are able to endorse the beauty of all religions combined. Muslims, Christians and Jews are able to hang out and talk and laugh. There is no hate amongst them for my world was built on love.

Out of love there is no need to kill and hurt. There is no reason to scare your fellow human. In my world, everyone realizes that each human is so precious. Each human, no matter how 'different' is as important as the whole world. People care for each other. People help each other and take the time to carry their weak through instead of leaving them behind.

We really are not so different. The only problem is we go to extents in order to differentiate between each other. It's funny, of all the species on Earth, this is an exclusive characteristic of humans. Every other species is trying to find ways to band together in order to be stronger. But with humans, they are always searching for ways to differentiate. Think about everything that is happening and you'll realize that everyday we come up with new ways of labeling each other, of forming clans, in order to be differentiated further.

Every time we abolish one type of racism, we create two. It is sad.

In my perfect world, there are no differences at all. No blacks, no whites, no territories, no countries, no different beliefs. There is only humanity, love, dignity and respect for each other.

This is my dream world. As fake as can be - as real as can be.

If it's crazy to dream, then I will adore my lost mentality forever.

Welcome to my type of world.

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! :)