Days and Which (When coffee is not enough)

There are days when One particularly feels a lack of symmetry with the scheme of things, the humdrum of Everyday of the Every-One, the ragtag of the rat race. But that’s about as general as one can get. What about times when, even while One is striding the busy street towards the bus stop on Its way to work, One does  not see Its leather-shod feet nor hear the nippy clinking between Its carabao-leather shoes and pavement, but instead see a solitary white feather floating atop trees and houses, the sound of which is undetected by the acutest of radio waves . For a minute the image will linger and encapsulate Its mind, grow mystified at how energy flows through it without much effort, thrilled at the prospect of how a seemingly frail bird’s covering can withstand the humidity and magnificently travel above One’s head.

In a gradual, imperceptible manner, One realized that the image can very well be a source of insight. The puritan color can bring back memories of One’s infancy, swaddled in vanilla colored Bird’s Eye.  Also, the meandering feather could in fact remind One that every single atom, entity—even the nonentities in One’s office-- in this planet and Universe for that matter has relevance, purpose and destination. The feather can be in the polar maximums, either it be swept with a dustpan and walis tingting then dunked in the trash bin, or picked up, glued with a bead and some birthstone and attached to the evening wear of the next Ford Super Model.

As insignificant as a chicken feather, the same has its own existential possibilities. What more a living and thinking organism like One, who has all Its systems functioning (skeletal, muscular, nervous, circulatory, digestive, lymphatic, respiratory, (ask your M.D.) without One ever having to will it—everyday.

Does One have to be reminded that yellow Spongebob thrives even in the Unfor-Giving ocean beneath?