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Soul Religion |
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| Created by Decius at
| [+ favourites]
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The rays were reflected, glistening against the leaves as he walked alone amidst people he had nothing in common with.
It was chilly but not cold. Not warm enough to wear a t-shirt, but too warm to dress warm.
Thoughts of dedication arose in his mind. There could be no purpose to his presence there, amongst nature's finest creations. Yet, he read that perhaps it was emotionally healthy to wean yourself away from your regular daily vices once in a while and take life in a slow uncomplicated manner.
But the banter that surrounded him awoke familiar feelings within him, reminding him of his drive here, of his school days, of his arguments with the argumentative. He stared at the ground and attempted to free his awareness away from it, and quickened his pace.
"That's a Calla Lilly. Isn't it beautiful?"
"It's gorgeous. It's so beautiful."
A scowl. He felt it consume his face, physically reacting to the distaste of hypocrisy as one would while savouring the taste of feces. The contradicting thoughts within him, the need to react to such impurities and disshonesties versus his need to be unnafected by the vileness that surrounded him seemed to consume more of his air, forcing him to breathe heavier.
People were no longer people. They were obstacles, ruining the entire purpose of his visit here. He quickly hopped over a small creek and dissapeared into the garden. As he felt the murmur fade away, he took cool deep breaths. Bit he still felt unresolved.
The optimism, thin as it may have been, could perhaps have been used to catalyze positivity in his system, disrupting the sadness and loneliness that plagued every silent moment he witnessed. Perhaps, in this plethora of beauty he would have found some meaning for his existance, and their existance, and rekindled some belief in God, or a spiritual plane.
But now it was gone. He looked at the plants and saw commercialism, organized hypocrisy, unnatural beauty mutated by chemicals, fooling all those that walked the park into thinking that the world was a beautiful place with meaning and vibrant color.
He wanted to sit down, but could not, for his pants would get dampened by the morning dew, and he would be self-conscious on the way back to the car. That thought in itself disgusted him. Why was he infected with such superficiality? One comes here to bask in the glory of nature, but keep his body untouched by nature. The water of the dew, perhaps the cleanest and most natural entity in this entire park, and he feared absorbing it, keeping it with him.
Such dissapointments were not alien. He had hoped that this morning's excursion may have distracted him from the constant reminder of his vulnerability to those he loathes.
His thoughts were interrupted as he felt the presence of another entity. As he walked slowly amongst the trees and flowers, he rounded a corner to see a girl in a corner, staring downwards. He could only see her back, but it seemed that her eyes were closed.
He stood there, looking at her for a few moments, unsure of what stereotype she fit into.
He wanted to interract with her, but without seeming weak.
"Hey, are you okay?"
She turned around quickly and smiled a nervous smile. He returned it.
"Oh yeah, I was just... enjoying the flowers and stuff."
He stared at her. She was pretty, but not gorgeous. She was of average height.
"Oh that's cool. I was just making sure you were okay because you were alone here so I wasn't sure if you were okay..."
"Yeah, no I'm good. Thanks though." she smiled.
He smiled back, and continued on his way. But something was amiss.
What was it?
Why had he come here?
A million and one possibilities flashed through his mind. Was she the one? Why was she in a corner? Was she different than the rest?
Why was he even thinking about her? Was it his own neurotics, or was it independant thought, a feeling, an interraction? After so much time spent in solitude, it was nearly impossible for him to react to things before he dissected their purpose.
He had stopped just out of view. He stared ahead of him, and there were more flowers, and the same emptyness he had prior to getting there. But in between these two paths, there was something with value, because it occupied his thoughts. That simple concept, that it existed in his mind, that he had reacted to it, that he could not easily be rid of it, gave her value. And so he could not be pulled away.
He silently crept back and carefully peered over to where she had been. She stood there again, staring at the ground in a corner. He stared at her in peace. She was beautiful to him, because she was unexplained, because she was simple. What was this inside of him? It was raging, far quicker than he could decode it.
He sat down, still staring at her from afar. What ridiculousness this was. He was only interested in her because everything else was so mundane. He kept ascerting that to himself. Why? His whole life he seeked the purity of something that would spark raw emotion in him, and here it was, totally illogical, completely unreliable, yet powerful and beautiful.
He smiled as she knelt down. He thought about her knees getting wet. She got up immediately and began wiping them, turning to face him. His face turned white, but he still stared back at her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, somewhat anxious and annoyed.
He couldn't help it. He grinned and laughed.
"I'm sorry, I was just... I was interested in what you were doing. You were taking too long so I decided to sit down. You shouldn't worry about your knees getting wet if you feel like kneeling."
She looked down at her knees then back up at him.
"Sometimes when you kneel you devote more blood pressure to other parts of your body which may need it. That is why many people kneel and lower their heads to the ground, to promote the blood pressure in their brain so they are more aware when they meditate or pray. I'm not telling you this because I'm trying to act smart or make chit-chat, but I hope it may help you."
A smile formed around her mouth as she stared at him. He nervously looked down and was completely silent. She knelt down, looking at the ground and grimaced as she felt the cold dew drench her jeans.
"That's cold."
He laughed. "Yeah, but it's natural, right?"
She nodded in slight agreement.
"I figure you were meditating or praying, so if you don't care what your hair looks like, you should try the head thing I just told you about. It's a really beautiful feeling, like you're in touch with something otherworldy."
She looked at the ground in front of her. "I'm not really sure how to do it. Do you mean just press my head on the ground?"
"Yeah... here... let me show you." He got up and walked slightly towards her and knelt down. "You can create sort of a 'V' with your left arm and then create a cup with your right hand and rest your head down on it. Like this..."
He did as he said, and pressed his head down into his right hand, then looked up at her. She did the same thing, and as she did, he did too.
"Now close your eyes."
"Okay..."
"What is happening now is your blood pressure is increasing in your head. This makes your brain impulses quicker, making thought almost blurry. Blurry thought equates emotion."
"This feels beautiful." she whispered. "I can smell the grass, and that makes me feel good, like God is touching me through smell."
"That's what quickened thought does. It moves so quickly that it creates an emotional response. When you smell the blade of the grass, when that enters your nose, your brain immediately accesses all the associated feelings it has to the smell of grass, visual, emotional, physical... and it manifests this all at once. The quicker the thoughts, the more aware you are, the more you focus on it, the more emotionally overwhelming it becomes."
"Oh my god. This is incredible. Your voice is like meditation. As you talk I feel like drifting away. It makes sense.... it's purposeful. Ahhh..."
He could empathize with her thoughts. He could feel her feelings, and that amplified his own. He felt loss of breath again as he was overwhelmed with the thought that he was engaging such passion within her.
He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily, gasping for air. He felt her finger at it searched for his hand. He gave it willingly, and she held onto three of his fingers, squeezing them tight. He squeezed hers back, feeling his breathing normalize.
They knelt there in silence, fingers clasped together, thinking expansive thoughts.
He began to think about her, about the situation, about the oddness of it. He began to worry about the moment after and the formalities that would degrade the entire encounter. He began to fear that she would be like everyone else. He feared she would think he was odd, abnormal, and pathetic.
Just before he began worrying whether he should get up first or not, she got up, without letting go of his hand, and pulled him up with her. He got up and stared down at the ground, then up at her eyes that were staring at him, then back down. He did not know what to say, because he did not know what to expect.
She suddenly and tightly hugged him, squeezing him, whispering.
"Thank you."
He hugged her back.
And the moment he felt she was going to let him go and walk away, she simply squeezed him tighter and sighed. He felt his eyes well up, and as a tear rolled down his cheek, he closed his eyes and thanked God for what he had found. |
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| Created by Decius at
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