Update : Serendipity
Okay, so as promised to you yesterday, I have an update. True, it's short and abstract, nevertheless something is better than nothing.
For earlier parts and disclaimer refer to:http://evilangels26.livejournal.com/2013/06/13/
A/N 1: I have lost track of which part this is.Maybe it's the 8th, though it seems like the 1000th. Also, I've taken a little liberty with the characteristics and occurrence of the different seasons but I think that is allowed
A/N 2: I hope you don't doze off while reading this. I promise to MAKE UP for all the missing sex tales in this update. I just needed to put my thoughts on paper
A/N 3: As always, thank you to all the people who comment. YOU, yes you are the sole reason why I write, because I know that someone out there is reading all my ramblings. So please please please keep up your comments. Tell me what you'd like to see or read. I'll try my best. Ah yes, enjoy! :)
Colours of the Wind
“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
When you sit down on this balcony chair with a cup of coffee on a quiet evening, alone, you often ruminate on your ‘apparently perfect’ life. To the world, your name is synonymous with everything paradisiacal- incomparable career, worry free life and unblemished memories. Very few, a handful maybe are lucky enough to peek into the strongly shielded life of yours, secured in a locked treasury chest well wrapped in velvet and muslin. The ones who do get the opportunity, know, that your life is as normal as theirs and yet inexplicably more mystical than others.
So, when the winds blow past the veranda and kiss your cheeks, tinting them with a rose coloured hue you compare each wind to the people and memories of your life.
SPRING
The winds in March are as ferocious as the lion and yet as soft as satin. They indicate the stirring of new life from within. Winter is over after all- spring is just around the corner. The sap is beginning to run, the buds are swelling, and wildly exotic flowers are beginning to poke through the mould and duff! Rejuvenation is in the making and a thousand things are happening underground that for six long months or more were dead and forgotten.
In all creation there is nothing more exhilarating that this rebirth of life and the powerful March winds signify the same. So, when the night is still chilly and the full moon casts a pearly glow on the lake below, you think of birth and rebirth.
John’s death-your rebirth. The arrival of that knight in shining armour-yes, your Don. Your life and death. He, for who you’d stop time and change the will of fate. Your God, to whom you look up with reverence-for whom you’d sacrifice yourself. So, when Zephyrus blows past you, you pray to him, ardently and ask him to always forgive when you wrong your God. You pray for your togetherness in this life and in the ones to come. You promise to love and worship him in every reincarnation.
That’s the story of your rebirth, which changed you forever. However, March also reminds you of the birth of your four children. Created of your own body, whom you nurtured and loved from the moment you knew of their presence in your womb. You vividly recall that moment when each of them was born-the dress you were wearing, the shirt Don was wearing, the colour and smell of the blanket in which each was wrapped, the sound of their first cries, their first dress, their red wrinkly faces-same yet unique and everything trivial. Now, they’re all mature people of their own- righteous, undaunted, fearless and joyous, you couldn’t be more proud of them. Their entry into your lives took you by surprise every single time- that injection of extreme joy after months of pain and waiting was as colourful as spring.
You tell yourself that they are still those little bundles of joy who you could hold close to your bosom, but the truth is that time doesn’t stop. You hope you could have loved them more, given them more attention, perfected them just a wee bit more-however, in the end all this doesn’t matter. They never complain and you don’t either.
So, even though they are already starting families of their own, they will always remain your spring even if you’re not theirs. You will love them unconditionally and hope that spring is eternal.
SUMMER
Spring retreats almost as soon as it comes. Soon it’s May-the month of Helios. The winds change course and vigour. They’re more unforgiving now. Hot and fiery, the angry winds blow across town jabbing and flinging everyone aside that dares to cross its path. Yet, sometimes they mellow down and there is that short spell of rain when the Earth breathes again. The smell of petrichor combined with wisps of the purple fountain grass carried away by the wind provides momentary solace- a certainty that all undesirable things will come to an end.
You compare these winds to the fights, the failures and trials of your life. Sometimes you even compare it to the vanity of Hollywood.
People who think it’s been a cakewalk for you do so because that’s what you’d have them think. The world will never know all that you have sacrificed, all the hard work you’ve put in, all the rejection that you have faced to become what you have today. That’s for you to keep-in that treasury chest of yours-as a memento.
You’ve always had your share of failures, trials and tribulations. Not just professionally, no no, not that. Personally too. With the kids, moments of complete apprehension and self doubt. Moments of utter panic and rage, failing as a parent and setting the wrong example. Their failures were yours-it hit you in the gut and you strived harder to purge all the mistakes. You’ve surely done well, no doubt.
Then there are those fights. Mainly the ones with Don. The rest are all arguments, inconsequential arguments. They don’t matter. Not them. Not to you. The only ones you remember are the ones that make you cry. The trivialest of things lead to these and then it escalates culminating in a war of words-malevolent and hurtful. Then there are tears and more tears until the Berlin wall crumbles down and there is an insurgence of forgiveness and love marking the end of the cold war. You hate them, the fights and yet you can’t seem to prevent them. Perhaps, you need the fire, it keeps the passion burning.
When you say you compare the summer wind to Hollywood, you mean it only superficially. It tires you. All that attention to the perfect lighting, the this and that-it’s burdensome and irrelevant. So are the award ceremonies. Then again, you’d never abandon Hollywood. Acting is that one channel that keeps you sane, you need this outlet. It balances out your life, your appetite for it and nurtures your passion. So, you wait for the rain-the clapping at the end of the play, your fans, the critics, the awards-they are only a testimony to your hard work. It does not change the way you look at life, but nevertheless you need it, an assurance that your work will stand, no matter what.
So, you do not ask God ‘Why me?’ when you fail or when bad things happen to you. It’s almost inevitable and necessary. The failures never last, nor do the fights. It’s a part of life, a ploy of God or the divine being whoever exists, just like the wind is. The rain will always come and wash away all the pain. And that is your consolation.
FALL
The transition from summer to autumn is rather bleary. Suddenly the days become shorter and the nights longer, the angry winds cease and are replaced by the cool Southern winds. They bring with them rain, sometimes, and the chill of pleasant September mornings. It’s a cue for the trees to start shedding their leaves. The Autumn Equinox marks the beginning of the end of another year. The winds seem to be engaged in a game; robbing trees of their gold and making them quake and shiver. The winds titillate the atmosphere, the birds start their migratory journeys and green is replaced by orange- stripped of all the fripperies of summer, fall is nude and real. Quiet yet exciting, harmonious and pleasant.
The wind reminds you of everything lovely- coffee, walks, maple leaves, lace, chrysanthemums and love. And Don. Yes, him of course. It reminds you of your first meeting, the first kiss, the first date, the letters(which you still have in that treasure chest of yours), the first time you consummated your love and the bliss and stability that he provided, no, provides.
When Notus passes by your balcony and you’re alone, you find yourself smiling. Why, because you’re happy. No memories invade your mind except the ones you’ve made with Don. You have created four wonderful lives with him. He has taught you what it means to be truly happy and content. You want nothing-not fame or money, only food, shelter and love. Boundless, eternal, copious amounts of amorous love. That is all you want. That is all you need.
The silken wind reminds you of your walks along the Hudson River, the treks along the Appalachian trail, your first Christmas with him, your first anniversary, that lapis lazuli pendant that you treasure, the trip to Maine, your honeymoons, his trust, his love, the innumerable years of bliss and much more.
The quiet power of autumn is very much like your marriage, like your marriage bands. Understated, without all that bling yet stronger than the strongest gold.
WINTER
Even before you know it, another year ends. Soon enough you’ll think about the same things again, only the year will be different. The direction, colour and nature of the winds will change. In December the north wind starts blowing, portending the arrival of a harsh and cold winter.
The softness and harmony of the cool Autumnal winds are long gone. Instead, they have been replaced by the cold bearing sharp and stark north winds. These are the kind of winds which are capable of knocking the breath, no, life out of you. Everything around you is white-covered in snow. The trees are bare, the birds have stopped chirping and the days are short, extremely short. Ironic, how white is the colour of peace. All you feel during these windy days is turmoil and grief. Sometimes, when it gets too much and you can’t take it anymore, you welcome the wind and almost revel in it. If that’s even possible, it’s like being a masochist.
John. That’s what winter reminds you of. The pain and the grief, the lost opportunities, the death of a genius. Yes, you did love him. No, no one can deny that. Not you. Not Don. Yet, it was always different with him.
You wonder how you fell in love with two people with such contrasting personalities. But you did. Don gives you joy, John gave you strength. John will always be a part of you. However Don is you and you are him.
You knew you’d never marry John, rather, he wouldn’t marry you. No, not because he loved you less but because he was ordained for greater things. Marriage would be far too stifling for him. He liked the transience of things, the freedom and the madness. A legal contract would lead to the demise of all this. So, instead God decided to take him away. He was too brilliant for this world, unwieldy and iridescent, stark and sharp, like this cold Northern wind.
Winter also reminds you of that child. A boy. The one you lost. Your one biggest failure as a mother, you think. Don doesn’t. Boreas had been rattling the window frames that day. The staircase railing had been ice cold. You were in a hurry, already late for the doctor’s appointment. The irony. Five months, hardly. You tripped and fell. In a moment, it was all over. He didn’t wait for you or listen to you- you’d have coaxed him, showered him with kisses and told him how sorry you were for hurting him. No, he was in a hurry. After all, he wasn’t yours to keep. You remember that mind numbing pain, the blood and the months that followed the miscarriage. Winter.
Death. When sit on that comfortable balcony chair during winter you think about the end of it all. Of yours and Don’s. You wonder who’d have the courage to leave the other alone. If you could, you’d like togetherness in this too. You wonder whether it would strike your lives suddenly or with prior notice. You feel accomplished, today. Not satiated though. Your appetite for life is still burning, you need to savour it all-your children’s marriages, your grandchildren, your husband and all that is left to see in this life. No, you do not fear death. Atleast yours. You fear the death of the ones you love. So, you shield tem, as well as you can, from all the harm that might befall them. In your heart, somewhere, you know that you might fail. That doesn’t stop you though-for you know, that when Winter is over Spring will be waiting for you.
“The plants and flowers
I raised about my hut
I now surrender
To the will
Of the wind”
-Ryokan
For earlier parts and disclaimer refer to:http://evilangels26.livejournal.com/2013/06/13/
A/N 1: I have lost track of which part this is.Maybe it's the 8th, though it seems like the 1000th. Also, I've taken a little liberty with the characteristics and occurrence of the different seasons but I think that is allowed
A/N 2: I hope you don't doze off while reading this. I promise to MAKE UP for all the missing sex tales in this update. I just needed to put my thoughts on paper
A/N 3: As always, thank you to all the people who comment. YOU, yes you are the sole reason why I write, because I know that someone out there is reading all my ramblings. So please please please keep up your comments. Tell me what you'd like to see or read. I'll try my best. Ah yes, enjoy! :)
Colours of the Wind
“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
When you sit down on this balcony chair with a cup of coffee on a quiet evening, alone, you often ruminate on your ‘apparently perfect’ life. To the world, your name is synonymous with everything paradisiacal- incomparable career, worry free life and unblemished memories. Very few, a handful maybe are lucky enough to peek into the strongly shielded life of yours, secured in a locked treasury chest well wrapped in velvet and muslin. The ones who do get the opportunity, know, that your life is as normal as theirs and yet inexplicably more mystical than others.
So, when the winds blow past the veranda and kiss your cheeks, tinting them with a rose coloured hue you compare each wind to the people and memories of your life.
SPRING
The winds in March are as ferocious as the lion and yet as soft as satin. They indicate the stirring of new life from within. Winter is over after all- spring is just around the corner. The sap is beginning to run, the buds are swelling, and wildly exotic flowers are beginning to poke through the mould and duff! Rejuvenation is in the making and a thousand things are happening underground that for six long months or more were dead and forgotten.
In all creation there is nothing more exhilarating that this rebirth of life and the powerful March winds signify the same. So, when the night is still chilly and the full moon casts a pearly glow on the lake below, you think of birth and rebirth.
John’s death-your rebirth. The arrival of that knight in shining armour-yes, your Don. Your life and death. He, for who you’d stop time and change the will of fate. Your God, to whom you look up with reverence-for whom you’d sacrifice yourself. So, when Zephyrus blows past you, you pray to him, ardently and ask him to always forgive when you wrong your God. You pray for your togetherness in this life and in the ones to come. You promise to love and worship him in every reincarnation.
That’s the story of your rebirth, which changed you forever. However, March also reminds you of the birth of your four children. Created of your own body, whom you nurtured and loved from the moment you knew of their presence in your womb. You vividly recall that moment when each of them was born-the dress you were wearing, the shirt Don was wearing, the colour and smell of the blanket in which each was wrapped, the sound of their first cries, their first dress, their red wrinkly faces-same yet unique and everything trivial. Now, they’re all mature people of their own- righteous, undaunted, fearless and joyous, you couldn’t be more proud of them. Their entry into your lives took you by surprise every single time- that injection of extreme joy after months of pain and waiting was as colourful as spring.
You tell yourself that they are still those little bundles of joy who you could hold close to your bosom, but the truth is that time doesn’t stop. You hope you could have loved them more, given them more attention, perfected them just a wee bit more-however, in the end all this doesn’t matter. They never complain and you don’t either.
So, even though they are already starting families of their own, they will always remain your spring even if you’re not theirs. You will love them unconditionally and hope that spring is eternal.
SUMMER
Spring retreats almost as soon as it comes. Soon it’s May-the month of Helios. The winds change course and vigour. They’re more unforgiving now. Hot and fiery, the angry winds blow across town jabbing and flinging everyone aside that dares to cross its path. Yet, sometimes they mellow down and there is that short spell of rain when the Earth breathes again. The smell of petrichor combined with wisps of the purple fountain grass carried away by the wind provides momentary solace- a certainty that all undesirable things will come to an end.
You compare these winds to the fights, the failures and trials of your life. Sometimes you even compare it to the vanity of Hollywood.
People who think it’s been a cakewalk for you do so because that’s what you’d have them think. The world will never know all that you have sacrificed, all the hard work you’ve put in, all the rejection that you have faced to become what you have today. That’s for you to keep-in that treasury chest of yours-as a memento.
You’ve always had your share of failures, trials and tribulations. Not just professionally, no no, not that. Personally too. With the kids, moments of complete apprehension and self doubt. Moments of utter panic and rage, failing as a parent and setting the wrong example. Their failures were yours-it hit you in the gut and you strived harder to purge all the mistakes. You’ve surely done well, no doubt.
Then there are those fights. Mainly the ones with Don. The rest are all arguments, inconsequential arguments. They don’t matter. Not them. Not to you. The only ones you remember are the ones that make you cry. The trivialest of things lead to these and then it escalates culminating in a war of words-malevolent and hurtful. Then there are tears and more tears until the Berlin wall crumbles down and there is an insurgence of forgiveness and love marking the end of the cold war. You hate them, the fights and yet you can’t seem to prevent them. Perhaps, you need the fire, it keeps the passion burning.
When you say you compare the summer wind to Hollywood, you mean it only superficially. It tires you. All that attention to the perfect lighting, the this and that-it’s burdensome and irrelevant. So are the award ceremonies. Then again, you’d never abandon Hollywood. Acting is that one channel that keeps you sane, you need this outlet. It balances out your life, your appetite for it and nurtures your passion. So, you wait for the rain-the clapping at the end of the play, your fans, the critics, the awards-they are only a testimony to your hard work. It does not change the way you look at life, but nevertheless you need it, an assurance that your work will stand, no matter what.
So, you do not ask God ‘Why me?’ when you fail or when bad things happen to you. It’s almost inevitable and necessary. The failures never last, nor do the fights. It’s a part of life, a ploy of God or the divine being whoever exists, just like the wind is. The rain will always come and wash away all the pain. And that is your consolation.
FALL
The transition from summer to autumn is rather bleary. Suddenly the days become shorter and the nights longer, the angry winds cease and are replaced by the cool Southern winds. They bring with them rain, sometimes, and the chill of pleasant September mornings. It’s a cue for the trees to start shedding their leaves. The Autumn Equinox marks the beginning of the end of another year. The winds seem to be engaged in a game; robbing trees of their gold and making them quake and shiver. The winds titillate the atmosphere, the birds start their migratory journeys and green is replaced by orange- stripped of all the fripperies of summer, fall is nude and real. Quiet yet exciting, harmonious and pleasant.
The wind reminds you of everything lovely- coffee, walks, maple leaves, lace, chrysanthemums and love. And Don. Yes, him of course. It reminds you of your first meeting, the first kiss, the first date, the letters(which you still have in that treasure chest of yours), the first time you consummated your love and the bliss and stability that he provided, no, provides.
When Notus passes by your balcony and you’re alone, you find yourself smiling. Why, because you’re happy. No memories invade your mind except the ones you’ve made with Don. You have created four wonderful lives with him. He has taught you what it means to be truly happy and content. You want nothing-not fame or money, only food, shelter and love. Boundless, eternal, copious amounts of amorous love. That is all you want. That is all you need.
The silken wind reminds you of your walks along the Hudson River, the treks along the Appalachian trail, your first Christmas with him, your first anniversary, that lapis lazuli pendant that you treasure, the trip to Maine, your honeymoons, his trust, his love, the innumerable years of bliss and much more.
The quiet power of autumn is very much like your marriage, like your marriage bands. Understated, without all that bling yet stronger than the strongest gold.
WINTER
Even before you know it, another year ends. Soon enough you’ll think about the same things again, only the year will be different. The direction, colour and nature of the winds will change. In December the north wind starts blowing, portending the arrival of a harsh and cold winter.
The softness and harmony of the cool Autumnal winds are long gone. Instead, they have been replaced by the cold bearing sharp and stark north winds. These are the kind of winds which are capable of knocking the breath, no, life out of you. Everything around you is white-covered in snow. The trees are bare, the birds have stopped chirping and the days are short, extremely short. Ironic, how white is the colour of peace. All you feel during these windy days is turmoil and grief. Sometimes, when it gets too much and you can’t take it anymore, you welcome the wind and almost revel in it. If that’s even possible, it’s like being a masochist.
John. That’s what winter reminds you of. The pain and the grief, the lost opportunities, the death of a genius. Yes, you did love him. No, no one can deny that. Not you. Not Don. Yet, it was always different with him.
You wonder how you fell in love with two people with such contrasting personalities. But you did. Don gives you joy, John gave you strength. John will always be a part of you. However Don is you and you are him.
You knew you’d never marry John, rather, he wouldn’t marry you. No, not because he loved you less but because he was ordained for greater things. Marriage would be far too stifling for him. He liked the transience of things, the freedom and the madness. A legal contract would lead to the demise of all this. So, instead God decided to take him away. He was too brilliant for this world, unwieldy and iridescent, stark and sharp, like this cold Northern wind.
Winter also reminds you of that child. A boy. The one you lost. Your one biggest failure as a mother, you think. Don doesn’t. Boreas had been rattling the window frames that day. The staircase railing had been ice cold. You were in a hurry, already late for the doctor’s appointment. The irony. Five months, hardly. You tripped and fell. In a moment, it was all over. He didn’t wait for you or listen to you- you’d have coaxed him, showered him with kisses and told him how sorry you were for hurting him. No, he was in a hurry. After all, he wasn’t yours to keep. You remember that mind numbing pain, the blood and the months that followed the miscarriage. Winter.
Death. When sit on that comfortable balcony chair during winter you think about the end of it all. Of yours and Don’s. You wonder who’d have the courage to leave the other alone. If you could, you’d like togetherness in this too. You wonder whether it would strike your lives suddenly or with prior notice. You feel accomplished, today. Not satiated though. Your appetite for life is still burning, you need to savour it all-your children’s marriages, your grandchildren, your husband and all that is left to see in this life. No, you do not fear death. Atleast yours. You fear the death of the ones you love. So, you shield tem, as well as you can, from all the harm that might befall them. In your heart, somewhere, you know that you might fail. That doesn’t stop you though-for you know, that when Winter is over Spring will be waiting for you.
“The plants and flowers
I raised about my hut
I now surrender
To the will
Of the wind”
-Ryokan