With my gray eyes I could see the world clearly in shades, shadows and silhouette. Long gone were the days when I had a fresh pair of eyes colored in rainbow. A child’s eyes, soaking in the glitter of life’s hues of fun. Bubbles of happiness and giggles floating and bursting in fits of joy. I always looked for the next bubble to pop. How innocent was the laughter.
Fewer bubbles and less color as the years sped by. The world turning into a monotone of dullness. Restraining the explorer in a classroom chair. The adventures limited to a backyard sandbox. Spreading my wings meant to find a swing; flying in place. The years claimed one color at a time from my florescent rainbow. Before it was all said and done I found myself trading in my old eyes for a diploma and a job issued with standard blinders. Gray is that world. For decades it was the norm. And I accepted it. Such a shame.
I know very little. Yet, I knew better of it. I knew that I had to paint the world around me with the colors I hope to see. Although I believe it will take a miracle to see the world in full color, I know that I will get my miracle. After all, miracles only happen to those who force them into existence. I have already set my miracle in motion.
I packed the few items of worldly belonging into my car and drove due south from Arlington, VA. I took the scenic route bidding farewell to Washington, DC. As the Washington Monument disappeared in the rear view mirror, my heart turned melancholy.That short detour begged for me to slow down, and I wished for heavy traffic. I was afraid of letting go. I was scared of losing my reliably gray world. Worse, I was terrified of an existence where I let go of the gray, but never finding colors. I was petrified of ending up in complete darkness. A world without light. A world without even ominous shadows. I reasoned to myself that suffering was preferable to complete emptiness.
That was 10 days ago on I-95 South. That moment took three hours. The agony of contemplation ended with my arrival here in Yogaville. I got out of the car and looked around. The world was still gray. I didn’t feel any different. I walked around carrying my anxiety on my shoulders. Weighed down by worry.
Meditation and yoga will put me on the right path I thought. How long will it take I questioned my mind. When will I call it quits? Six months or a year? Finally, I made peace with Father Time. I will reflect on it on the first day of the new year, 2018. And, I will assess how far I got late Spring/early Summer. Happy with the resolution I focus on getting settled.
Eating healthy, delicious food, committing to a daily yoga practice and meditating at least once a day; all gave me a sense of grounding. A very encouraging start to my new reality up until a couple of days ago, one week since my move to Yogaville to be exact. I came across what you see in the picture. It’s chalk on the pavement in front of Shivananda Hall’s main door. This is not an artwork as I mistakenly thought at first. It was little Miles picture of what he sees with his rainbow eyes.
Miles sees that fantastically bright colorful world. The chalk drawing of this garden over the canvas of the invading modernity’s Black Top offers us a flashback to the toddler's vision that use to be our own. He reminded me of the miracle I was hoping for. I was already slipping into numb acceptance waiting for the miracle to happen to me, instead of me happening to it. I promise myself that I will paint the gray with brilliant colors just like little Miles so that I can return to popping colorful bubbles of joy once again. Thank you Miles for lending me your rainbow eyes.
By Dub - Oct 13, 2017
By Dub - Oct 13, 2017
