Memories of Marseille

When I settled comfortably on the lush green seat aboard the TGV to Paris, the thought of leaving Marseille probably had not occurred to me. Had that been the case, I would have lingered on a little while longer on the platform, taking in the last few gusts of the mistral, forming the last few memories of the place I’d called home the past three months At this time, I can’t help but think of the Chairman in Memoirs of Geisha and what he eloquently mentioned -“Sometimes the things I remember are more real than the things I see”. So mesmerizing were the idyllic days spent. Could it be possible that your sense of reality at a point in time is so magnified, so well entrenched, so deep, that it never ceases to overpower your today, never detaching from your existence in the present? As I rush through life just a few months later, it seems the days gone by would be cherished by me, as memories unparalleled. On deep thought, I realize that there was no one defining moment or an exceptional circumstance of clarity which I could attribute this experience to. There were no momentous occasions where I was overwhelmed a great deal, barring the isolated sighting of a shooting star on a drive to the Loire valley. It was just an amalgamation of each day, each new city visited, every gust of wind that blew my hair astray and every drop of that drizzle that didn’t drench me.

As I think back to the day of the journey from Marseille to Paris, I recall sitting by the huge window and looking at the sights speed past me, or rather me speed past them. The terrain transitions all through, the beauty remains ever the same though, casting a spell on me, a reverie that sends me to a place where words are redundant because all there is to experience is transmuted naturally, effortlessly. The music seems to agree with the sights that quickly disappear before my eyes. The speeding train, the ubiquitousness of the wilderness and the music all seem to work in tandem, creating a filigree of paradise.

The journey could have extended beyond the stipulated hours without me ever realizing. Such was the power of that moment, simple in its setting, yet so intoxicating that its vividness lives on as I write these words.

I lasted through the winter, until the onset of spring, the trees, that stand transfixed on either side of the road that is testament to this journey, accompanied me on this adventure. They had stood there in the cold winter months without any speck of green, bare, exposed, but they had persevered the test of time, and a few days before I were to leave, I saw the first few leaflets blossoming on to the branches.

Answer to a question asked...

What are we here for? Does anyone really know the genesis of this existence? The root cause of everything, the fundamental that guides every breathe we take.

We can live through this life doing the mundane things we do, without understanding why we ought to be this way. Our materialistic pursuits guide our existence, warp our existence, and convolute it too. But then again, there is the other way of doing things. We don’t always know where our actions will lead us, perhaps we have a general idea, but that’s about it. I guess its okay not to know all the answers, hell if we know half the questions that should be asked, I’d say we have achieved something. What is of consequence here is realization that the answers can be found only when we get in touch with ourselves. These seem like grandiose words which we hear spiritual leaders talk about but I’m just borrowing the words, literally, the interpretation is my own, perhaps ideas I’ve garnered from the varied experiences.

Emotions are what govern my life, it’s the heart behind the thought, the euphoria of existence and experience. Love is the fundamental behind each and ever particle that exists in this universe. The beauty that the spring day shares with us, is it not but love for mankind? The flowers that bloom, allowing us to marvel at the extraordinary spectacle, the fusion of colors and contours, exude love every moment of their existence. The ocean, with the pristine azure quality, it lies down before the sky, is that not love, which makes the ocean bare its soul? And we watch out in amazement, the culmination of the water and the sky, the love which they bring out in each other.

The stars in the night sky that religiously sparkle, to decorate the lackluster emptiness of the darkness, would that not be self-less love? And of course the darkness, which hangs on to the numerous stars for hours together, giving them an existence?

What about music, that makes us skip as we walk, nolens volens?The desire it creates within us to soar up above everything else, is that not love in our being for music, and why would music permeate the way it does through us if it didn’t love us in the first place?

I could go on about the examples in the physical world, but sounding idyllic wasn’t the purpose of this realization.

We always seek love in the wrong places, we look outwards to other people, without realizing that love is indeed all around. Accepting this reality would magnify every minute of our existence. Every breath we take is a new breath, it brings with it new experiences, hopes and it wipes out the vestiges of the past. Such is life too, it is intended to be experienced with panache and a sincerity that is only paralleled by the respiratory system. Only if we let the experience engulf us from all directions can we learn to love the existence that has been bestowed upon us.

the muse

But my memories are stronger than ever before, my past ever in my present, during my day, engulfing me like a wave, and then it comes crashing onto my reality, my now, and breaks my reverie.