Reflections

Beauty of the world

It is a bright sunny morning today. The roads are clear, although the pavement is covered in dust. I'm walking my way to the library. I think it is good day to sit and read in a park, In green grass, surrounded by hoppers.

On the way I keep a smile on face, so that anyone who sees me, might smile today atleast once, I hope. Smiling is important you know, it tells your brain to produce serotonin, the happiness hormone.

I walk into the library and get my recent favourite book, all the bright places by Jennifer Niven. It is a beautiful story, a must read I say, not gonna spoil it for you, you should read it if you want. I carry the book with me to the park close to the library.

I've heard a girl committed suicide here, on the banyan tree in the centre of the park. While I sit here on this bench, I wonder what could have been so wrong with her life, that she took the matter in her hands to end it. Was she depressed? Had something wrong happened with her? Was she physically disabled? I don't know. But I like to sit here and think all about it.
I like to listen to birds, to the kids playing, to the sound of the cars passing by the road, it is not a big ground, big enough for me to find solitude. I cannot feel the wind, although there are clouds, just like we used to draw, floating in the sky. My mother used to ask me, "have you ever seen such clouds? Like the ones you're drawing?" And if now I could, I would tell her. I have been astounded by nature, many times. Everytime I thought, "no this is not how it would naturally be" while painting, sooner I would see that this exists, that I am no one to judge the world. The best revenge it finds on me, is to prove me wrong.

I move to sit in the grass, and there are bugs and butterflies all around. The park is filled with green grass and beautiful summer flowers in the borders. The tree is flourishing, and growing old and strong, unlike us, as we grow, we become old and weak, or maybe that is just what we think. Humans are whatever they make up their minds to be.

And it works everytime. I have seen people who say, "I will" and they do it, they are confident of themselves, right. And there are people who say "I can't" and they are never able to do anything, because they never know what they really can do. Some of us are like that, we are never able to truly explore our true potential, because we afraid of failure, we are afraid of new beginnings and new things, of something alien to us. I sometimes wish I could go back, and live my life through my childhood again, I want to know what it is, that children are able to be whatever they want , but as we grow, we forget the feeling of being anything.

As kids we are not afraid of judgement, we just know to do it, we don't fear criticism, we know that we will be praised no matter what. That builds the confidence. But as we grow, we are often criticized, some more than others and we are not able to become what we truly should have. We lose confidence.

I am here and I am looking at all these flowers, the grow so beautifully, first, the plant makes the bud, then the bud grows, delicately, it opens, it lets out its petals, it's colours out into the world. I've never heard anyone criticise them, everyone is always appreciative of them, and they should be.

Same way if we could be for each other, if and only. The world would be a different place.
What if we were to find the good in every person first? The way we look at them would change. You see, it is the point of view that changes a person. As I grew up, I always observed people, and I found goods and bads, to be's and not to be's. This is how I became I person I am. I looked at everyone and I knew, this is what I don't want to be like. I tried to become the person everybody is looking for, but none of them is. I am not saying im perfect, but I certainly am, or maybe I am, better?

I hardly think anyone can see me, maybe I am just a illusion to them, I sit and read the book, and as the sun sets, I think it's now time to leave. I pick up my book and head towards the library. I return the book, and walk my way back to home.