Sitting by the window in a cosy little corner of my room, my workplace ever since the lock-down, pondering about ‘what is clarity (truly) to me?’ and listening to the hum of the first April rain, mango-showers, I ask myself this very question a million times in my head, a question that Kate has posed to each one of us in her reflective post. I rest my chin on the corners of my palm, loll my head from side to side, then berate myself for touching my face, and gaze out at the darkness outside, which mirrors the darkness inside, a power failure, yet again! A purple flash of lighting rushing between monstrous rain clouds in the form of a perfect rectangle of the window dispels the darkness inside while a faint white glow lights up the room only to fade away and, stupidly, I am reminded of the phenomenon of Newton’s Rings, from high school Physics, the fringing effect of light. Concentric rings of light and shadow, distinct and pronounced in the centre, fading with increasing diameter, and I think again of clarity.
Hurriedly I seek my headphones and play ‘Don’t dream it’s over’ by the Crowded House, drum my fingers on the keyboard and tap my feet as the tempo echoes from one ear to another. ‘Only shadows ahead barely clearing the roof; get to know the feeling of liberation and release’. Liberation, shadows, release, clarity, clarity.
Indeed clarity of thoughts-this is it, my Eureka moment!
Having had more time to introspect, to retrospect, to ponder and to reflect, I now see the faint flicker of a warm yellow glow at the end of an imaginary tunnel of my convoluted thought process; I have been sensing the several knots inside my head, that I had tethered with time, loosening. Perhaps a long shot, but I am on the road to understanding what life should truly be; on how little things, a warm cup of tea, a simple meal, a conversation, a shared joke sum up life in ways more than one. I feel less muddled, less weighed down now, ever since I vehemently chose to ignore negativity, pessimism and concentrate on optimism, on positivity, on seeking joy in the simplicity of life, on making my now better for a brighter later. Someone ought to be a hopeless dreamer even if were to mean rowing all by oneself in a lone boat floating in an ocean of despair and despondency. I have been rowing and I, happily, see other boats, gradually converging; I see lamps on these boats lighting up the faces of other lone sailors rowing towards an island at the end of the ocean. There is a lighthouse guiding us, there is a world waiting for foolish dreamers like us.
Certainly, my trajectory has not been, and still is not, straight as that of a comet for I have been swinging, and continue to swing, between the crests of hopefulness and the troughs of hopelessness. I will, but, flatten out my path, I will do all it takes to shine my lamp, I will continue dreaming and hoping, I will let go of people shooting arrows of thoughtlessness that pierce my world, I shall not let them cloak me in their shroud of pessimism and cynicism.
I will walk bare bodied.
I will drape myself in the pure blue of clear skies.
I will cleanse my soul in the sparkling waters of cleaner rivers.
I will let the breeze take away traces of confusion from my thinking and I will dwell in clarity.