Little Clouds
I remember when I was 3 or 4 years old I had this stereo speaker and a nine volt battery and I would touch the battery to the speaker and listen to all the strange sounds it would make and it was the most amazing thing I could ever have imagined as a child. "What sort of sorcery could make this happen?" I thought.
One day I was playing with the speaker when I heard a car drive by outside. I quickly tossed it down onto the cushion and climbed up to the back of the couch to look out the window and see if it was my mother coming home, it wasn't. The window was foggy from age and open a crack, about 4 inches or so and the chill rainy autumn air puffed through in short bursts like moist kisses carried on little clouds. I have always loved the smell of rain and sleep with my window open, even in the winter, to this day.
I remember looking out at the world through the window that day, at the apartments next door to the left and the houses across the street just beyond the ditch where I found my pet turtle, and thinking about life's mystery, not in language but with mind itself, as children might not be able to express understanding but the mind is understanding in its purest form.
I thought as I looked around in wonder, still reflecting on the awe of the speaker and battery as I surveyed my surroundings "look at this world, it is so complex. Surely they have figured everything out by now. Why then, am I here? What is there left to do?"
I could feel the context of the edge of the universe holding the world in place as my view panned up to the cloudy autumn sky. I felt for a moment an answer would come, but there was only silence. A silence that loved me deeply.
I have since found the answer to my question but the silence has stayed with me all along, it haunts me still to this day. There is some-thing hidden in it that I cannot see. Its funny how our reality that we create, creates us, how we paint the stars with what little meaning we can find in our hearts.
I love the sound of the train at night, like the silence behind the autumn sky, it sings such a mournful lullaby. "I am not with you" it says, "but you are not alone." Kinda like god don't you think?
One day I was playing with the speaker when I heard a car drive by outside. I quickly tossed it down onto the cushion and climbed up to the back of the couch to look out the window and see if it was my mother coming home, it wasn't. The window was foggy from age and open a crack, about 4 inches or so and the chill rainy autumn air puffed through in short bursts like moist kisses carried on little clouds. I have always loved the smell of rain and sleep with my window open, even in the winter, to this day.
I remember looking out at the world through the window that day, at the apartments next door to the left and the houses across the street just beyond the ditch where I found my pet turtle, and thinking about life's mystery, not in language but with mind itself, as children might not be able to express understanding but the mind is understanding in its purest form.
I thought as I looked around in wonder, still reflecting on the awe of the speaker and battery as I surveyed my surroundings "look at this world, it is so complex. Surely they have figured everything out by now. Why then, am I here? What is there left to do?"
I could feel the context of the edge of the universe holding the world in place as my view panned up to the cloudy autumn sky. I felt for a moment an answer would come, but there was only silence. A silence that loved me deeply.
I have since found the answer to my question but the silence has stayed with me all along, it haunts me still to this day. There is some-thing hidden in it that I cannot see. Its funny how our reality that we create, creates us, how we paint the stars with what little meaning we can find in our hearts.
I love the sound of the train at night, like the silence behind the autumn sky, it sings such a mournful lullaby. "I am not with you" it says, "but you are not alone." Kinda like god don't you think?
