my first leap

There was once a girl who came to a strange and beautiful land called Laos in the stunning town Luang Prabang. The people of this land smile at her and want to be her friend. People of other lands want to be her friend. But tonight, for many reasons only her mind can unravel, she feels very lonely. Feeling like this, she doesn’t want to meet anyone or see anyone. She doesn’t want the happy excited people to see how suddenly lost she feels right now. So she walks by the river but tonight it doesn’t give her the solace she seeks. As she wanders, she wants to cry and as tears drop involuntarily, she wants to run away from the streets full of busy people, so she can cry on her own. She sees some steps and two dragons float between these steps guarding her from the world below. She climbs them and gets to the top. Further is a temple but she doesn’t want to disturb the peace in there. Sitting on the top step, she allows herself to cry loud, hoping the heavy pouring would make the sadness go away sooner. She knows she should not be sad because this was a happy place. And the people she has met are enlightened, full of awareness, aware that everyone is in control of their own feelings, that whatever they feel, if it hurts or is negative, then it’s themselves to blame because no one controls their reactions other than themselves. But right now, she wants to be human, with human failings, who feels hurt and lonely; and she doesn’t want to deny them even if it’s her own doing. She wants to feel the feeling, without intellectual analysing and denial. Her feelings may be irrational but they exists. She lets them exist; letting them take over. Now she sobs uncontrollably, her face in her hands, hiding from this happy place. Slowly she realises a soft shadow next to her. She looks up, her long hair wet against her face. There stood a young monk dressed in orange. His face is one of concern but still peaceful. She realises 6 more from the age of 10-16 stood behind him. He kindly asks her if she’s okay and why she cries. She doesn’t want anyone to see her. She doesn’t want to explain her irrational feelings and how she let herself indulge in what she feels no matter how unintellectual or unenlightened. She doesn’t want to explain she sometimes just want to be human, to feel human feelings, have normal human thoughts, have needs, have wants, have expectations, like any human. She’s tired of feeling at peace, explaining away all human emotions except happiness. She didn’t want to explain how indulgent she was being; how she can pretend that she too is happy like everyone else but didn’t want to. She thought she knew things. Now she knows she knows nothing. In her search for meaning; she wants to know if having emotions, no matter how irrational, is wrong? If only the rational mind exists with its theories of how to live, to think, to be, she’s not sure she wants it. How can she explain this confusion to this monk who keeps asking? His wanting to help makes her cry even more and she just wants to run away. Later, after more walking, she comes back to the stairs which still promises more solace than the streets. This second time, no monks stand at the top. She climbs the stairs again, the dragons inviting and protecting her. She sits again on the top step. She sits for a long time; she’s not sure how long. Then when there are no more tears to be shed and with a fresh calmness of emotional tiredness, she descends the stairs. She turns to look at her resting place for the last time and there she saw at one end of a dragon stood the group of monks. They were keeping a kind and protective eye on her; this time learning that coming too close she might run so they watch and pray for her. She descends the last step and looks back. They watch her leave. Language barrier aside, she understands they cared and seeing what a sad creature she was, were protecting her with their gaze, standing by her side. She walked away feeling their strength, their positive energy, their innocent care. And even when the stairs were out of sight, the monks were still by her side, gliding behind her, gently pushing her forward towards the happy land full of happy people. And now, they will never leave her. I am that girl. You are that girl. We are the same. And I want to feel my emotions again even if it’s destructive even for a moment; to experience the kind protection of monks for that moment and now forever.

Tags: Travel

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 13th, 2006 at 2:18 pm and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.