A walk in the park

The weather had been overcast all day. In the height of summer, it was a day which had seen little sunshine. Grey clouds spread out over the sky. Cool breeze blew all day. As evening approached, the breeze turned into a mild storm. Trees swayed gently and there was dust flying in the air. A little drizzle came down for a few minutes. He had been pining to go out for long. Finally, he decided that this was the moment. He took his small, black umbrella, and walked out with a lilt and enthusiasm in his steps.

Soon, he was in the large park, dense and full of trees. There were very few people there, unlike everyday. A few thin branches had broken from their trees and lay on the path of orange mud. The leaves bristled very audibly, but not loudly. There was something in the sounds of nature which even at their highest were not disturbing, unlike the sounds of the world out there. He walked, gently swinging his umbrella, feeling the breeze on his face and in his hair. His feet seemed to move by themselves, as if they were meant to move, not to be still.

Nature was making its presence felt more strongly that it had for a long time. The sun was nowhere to be seen, but there was a soft, dim light all over. It gave the orange of the mud path a bright, radiant hue. The leaves seemed more green. The barks of the trees were a darker shade of brown. The hissing sound of the breeze running through the leaves was ever present. He walked on and on, occasionally coming across a solitary walker.

There was a joy in the air. A joy in the swaying of the trees, the rustling of the leaves, in the soft brightness of the colours around. The joy infused his being, and everything felt light and gentle. He came across a dog resting by the side of the path and said a few words to him. The dog looked back with curiosity. He walked on.

It was how life was meant to be. The spontaneous, innate joy of being was apparent everywhere, in everything. Yes, there were problems. Fear would make one shrink into oneself, shrivel up and not be open to the beauty all around. Plans for the future would shut out the joyous love that nature seemed to be pouring into the self, and lock one into a prison of plans and apprehensions. But for now, none of those meaningless games of the ego was attractive. There was only the beauty of nature asserting herself in a new, fresh manner, after several days of monotonous heat. The relief from the heat, an act of compassion from nature, was inescapably beautiful. So were the corresponding emotions it evoked within him.

Beneath all the joy, the movements, the celebration of life, there was a stillness that came from far away. All that was around and within was the stillness speaking. He wondered how long it would last. He wondered if he would have to stay in this park for it to last. The world tended to kill this joy and to cloud this stillness. A new way of being was necessary.

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~ by tdcatss on May 20, 2015.

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