“The farther away you run from home,
The more the urge to come home grows.
The longer the colder the time you spend away from home,
The dearer the warmer you feel at home.”
When I was reading the other day, these two lines crept into my mind and have been playing on a never-ending loop since then. It seemed I had no option but to write it down somewhere, but I still wondered why. Why and what exactly reminded me of HOME when I am in fact living and have been living in my home for the past 20 years or so? I was reading for the first time in two years, and I still dared to wonder WHY?
For the first time in two years, I had the time to slow down. Instead of rushing and sprinting and wrestling and arguing and debating, I was able to slack and let the lullaby of written words sedate me to a deep, rich slumber. It felt as if I were being washed over and over by rain, absolved until I was nothing but a puddle of clear water, rippling overjoyed at every single word. It felt as if I were being blown away by the wind over and over, till I was nothing but a whisp of brisk breath whistling in every corner of the universe.
But all at once, I was pushed off a cliff. I was falling deeper and deeper every second into an oblivious, rich, warm darkness. But I wasn’t scared. Not even a bit. Darkness engulfed me, embraced me, and wrapped me around safely as I landed in a gloomy but cozy patch of overgrown moss. I looked up, there was the endless sky with an endless number of stars, I looked aside, there was the endless plain with an endless number of tiny daisies, though they weren’t really visible in the darkness. Then it crossed my mind, I was HOME.
The HOME, I had left two years ago before the exam, promising I would be back in no time. The home I sought, the home I searched every corner of my mind for the past two years. It seemed all I had to do was to slack, and that is exactly what I have been avoiding doing. It rang me like a clarion bell when Murakami said,
“Her sleep is short but deep. This is what she wanted for a long time.”
“My sister really is beautiful when she sleeps. Maybe more beautiful than when she’s awake. She’s transparent”
-After Dark
It really is beautiful when you do nothing, when you think nothing, you just slack. You just sit back and worry about nothing. So those tiny, little neurons (I am no scientist, I just imagine tiny cute pebbles inside my brain) can unwind, take a break after all your tantrums over find X (and ex). Just as much as your body deserves a good, long break, your mind deserves it too. Just do nothing. It’s okay. That is home. Come back home more often. Only if you come home can you go to work the next day refreshed.
No Responses