You are deeply religious - you worship the sun. Taking off in an airplane on a dark rainy gloomy day, rising above the clouds suddenly into bright impossibly clear sparkling sunlight that makes you catch your breath, has been the closest you’ve come to a profoundly spiritual experience.
* * * * * * *
“Would you like you if you met you?” A standard clichéd question someone poses, one of those forwards. You skip it, and then you come back. Hey, what the hell. You would love it if you met you! You would be intrigued, you would want to know more, you would want to return to sit across the table to meet you again, and soak in the slow release of an abundant affection that surely knows no bounds?
Not an answer you ever expected to give, you are startled. You, who never spared any kindness for your own self, while you dispensed off it to the whole world so easily, you who always treated yourself with a firmness bordering on cruelty. When did all this happen? Who/what taught you to like yourself, finally? And ah, will it last?
* * * * * * *
Early morning walk. The old man wrapped up in mufflers, who walks very slowly, every tiny step a huge effort, holding on to the young man who accompanies him everyday. There will be no young one to help you walk when/if you reach that age. How much will you suffer, or will it cease to matter by then?