View

They sit across each other, sipping on their coffee. "So how's life treating you these days?" He asks. "I cannot put a finger on it!" she replies back. They have a bond that cannot be classified under any conventional nomenclature. They share the comfort of siblings and the proximity of close friends without ever delving too much into each other's lives. The encounters are few, but the exchange of words often unearth abstruse realities of life, be it about love, loss, parenting or personal challenges.
She knows she could seek advice, bare it before him like she feels it but her words elude her this time. The feelings crossing her mind escape the clarity of symbols and that's what she particularly seeks to solve in this rendezvous.

"I feel stuck" she manages, avoiding eye contact. He smiles. "That's how this age is supposed to feel, no biggie" He dismisses her concern. "Try to write it out" he offers. "I am sure you can find yourself in the confines of your writings, and you don't even need to share it with anyone except yourself."

This conversation isn't going anywhere she wants it to go. They absentmindedly nurse on their coffee mugs when she says it in a trance "I feel like I am on a dead end - like one of those 'not a through street' signs you spot when you are lost" - She feels a bit of a relief to have said that much. She does feel lost..or more importantly stuck, like she could identify before.

"When you cannot go forward, go up.When you go up, you have a clearer view of things"

She reflects upon the lines and a light floods her insides. They smile and get lost in the reverie of life, those souls that connect at a level that cannot be named.


Photo Credit - Chandra Elango, somewhere in NZ.

Zen

She is an expert at pushing her limits. She doesn't really head the senate or figure out complex quadratic equations, nor does she take her SUV to get to the city to make money - for herself, for someone else or both. Instead, she basks in the glory of the passe, humdrum oddities. Putting up with an audacious teen for instance, or trying to use her imagination into understanding why a particular neighbor is always grumpy. She saves her jibes and sarcasm for very special occasions, often letting others take a lead. She apologizes a little too often, and recurrently offers thanks for the smallest of things. She can be viewed as a birdbrain, for her trusting nature can be borderline gullible from where you look at it. She talks politely, holds doors open for all and sundry and smiles at every passerby. She seems to have struck a cord with the world by simply letting it be and by letting herself being slotted into a non entity. Her nonchalance startles herself sometimes - "Is this coming of age?" she wonders. The constant counting, haggling and disagreements around her, over trivialities, charm her to no end. She soaks in without a protest and cogitates about things on a higher plane. Letting the world lead is viewed as fulfilling from where she sees it. She could be a dog for all practical purposes, more than a human being. A dog that doesn't hold on to past hurts or keep tabs on the the trespasses done onto her. She believes happiness comes form within and lets absolutely nothing or no one disrupt it for her. You probably spot her once in a while, riding a tram or buying groceries at the local farmer's market. I wish to meet her too...somewhere out there, or in here, if possible!

From where she sees It

Lisa holds her book snugly in her hand. Sitting in the passenger seat is an opportunity she avails to her heart's content. Today she decides to complete her book that had been sitting a tad too long on her night stand. The vehicle picks up momentum as her eyes lazily graze the scene outside.
'The book'! she remembers and opens it and buries her nose inside it. This decides to be the 'out of the ordinary' book anyway....or Lisa probably hand picks the works that she deems worthy of her attention. She silently gasps a little too often, looking up to sink in the depth of the words that flood her insides with revelations, emotions or just plain awe.

Suddenly a long forgotten strain of music erupts on the radio, as if she needs enough props to divert her 'as short as a toddler' attention span. A series of events from the past come flooding as the music travels into her untapped, subconscious memory. She marvels at the word play, at the choice of instruments in the orchestra and the delicate voice that renders it, holding just long enough onto the words that need emphasis creating a bedlam of thoughts in Lisa's mind.

She absentmindedly leans on to the window and her eyes travel to the sky. She spots a California bald eagle. "Wow" she exclaims out loud remembering how she read that these magnificent birds make their appearance in her part of the world during winter months..."Is this a sign?" she wonders, just as she spots another eagle tracing the path the of the first one.

The music continues in the background, bits and pieces of the lovely lyric begs her for her undivided attention. Just then, Lisa spots a name board placed conspicuously to the corner of a building that looks like a huge, inverted moving box. "The father's house" the board reads. Nothing else - Lisa wonders what a business named "The father's house" would offer to the patrons! "How cool would it be to walk into a store named your father's house and discover that ragged doll, rattan chair or the stainless steel plate rack that mounted on to the side of the kitchen in your father's home? Or a ghost of a fun time being had by the family around the board game or dinner table?"

She snaps back into reality, determined to complete the book. Just as she finishes the next page, she wonders when those blank canvasses in her bedroom closet would see the light of the day bathed in her imagination. "I have become so much of a voyeur" her thoughts taunt her, as she spots a herd of jet black birds making a horizontal "Mexican wave" in the air parallel to her ride. "Show offs" she rolls her eyes in mock sarcasm marveling at the symmetry of those flecks of black in the sky. She has seen these herds before, lounging on the electric cables last year around the same time. She makes a mental note to google them once she reaches home. She lets out a deep exhale and gives up on the book. The margin of the road sports a carpet of dandelions, some in bloom and some burst into the airy white balls. "some see a weed, some see a wish" - Random social media wisdom pops in her head as she lets out a quiet giggle.

Lisa lives that moment, suspended in a sensory overload, wondering if creating something would mean any more than devouring the beauty of what exists around her.

Inspired by true events.

Photo - Donner lake, NV by Chandra Elango