Nostalgia

Books are like machines. Your hands are like oil to its cogs, keeping them alive and working in your mind. – Stefan 🙂

The paint brush shakes in my hand as I try to make a delicate stroke. I hear the alarm, it’s 6.00 a.m. I flinch, the paint at the end of my brush seems to explode and fall onto the paper below me. The sun seems to peep over the horizon, it’s rays changing the colour of the unfinished piece of art. I smile. Another night. It’s not like I’ve always loved working in the peace of the night, but as of late, I’ve been enjoying one specific part, always watching the sunrise and never missing it.

I sigh, put my head back and close my eyes, sinking into my chair, just enjoying the moment. I open them and look at the slow swish of the blades of the fan, cutting the deep yellow rays of the morning sun. I sit up and look around on my desk. It’s a mess. My eyes drift to the stack of books on my desk.

I feel sad.

From when I was a child, books have been my friends. Being shy, I never had many friends and so, I always had a lot of time on my hands. With no TV to stare at and no video games in my reach, I would turn to books, with an excitement that is amazing, even to think about.

As time passed, I found more and more things to occupy my time with. A 30 year old guitar lying around the house was a turning point in my life. I took it in my hands, and I could feel it, the indefinite potential and the promise of great joy. So I spent every minute I had with it. My dislike for musical notations and my desperation to learn, somehow taught me to learn the guitar without them and I embarked on a new journey, but in taking that turn, I forgot all about books, I forgot about the wave of energy and excitement that flooded me when I saw a new book. The sound of music somehow replaced it, but it never completely filled it, because the excitement was different, the experiences unique on their own accord.

Time passed and I started exploring my childhood love to draw and paint. My endeavors on the blank paper took the time that my musical explorations left behind. Again, my books were left behind, and they mournfully looked on from the shelf, where dust settled on them as the clock ticked on, increasing my guilt. But I ignored it, justifying it as the unavoidable result of my development into an all-rounder, something I’ve always worked towards.

Time passed on…………

Then came into my life a new challenge. Long gone were the days when I could play music and live life easy and get an A on all my papers studying overnight. My backpack got heavier each year and the assignments piled up, taking what little vestige of time I had left.

The dust settled inching it’s way into another millimeter every year, camouflaging my once beloved friends, blending them with the furniture and what else there was that never moved.

Now here I am. School’s over and my guitar sits in it’s case. My paint sits safe in the back of my drawer. They are still alive in my life however, adding perspective and colour to everything I do. But they don’t take up much of the clock. Not like they used to.

I wonder what I could do to use my time well………

I get up from my chair and move over to my books. I take one and wipe the dust from it’s cover.

Nostalgia! That must be how I can best describe it. A longing for a time past, an excitement that took me through at least five books a week.
I look at the book with love. I open it. Then I look at my bed. I should probably sleep. The book looks at me. It somehow seems to understand. ‘No Worries’ seems to hang out from it like a placard.
Not this time, I say. Not this time.
I sit down once again, this time with a book in my hand.

Have you ever felt like I did? Do you have a hobby you lost in time?

Like. Comment. Share. Be a part of the movement!
God bless! 😊

The song of the rain

For those of you guys who know me and read my blog posts( I am extremely grateful to you for your interest, time and feedback), you know how I am greatly inspired by rain and sunlight. One of my favourite hobbies is just sitting in front of my window looking out into the rain, my head resting on my palms and making up lines of poetry, not necessarily with rhyme schemes and alliteration, but just filled with what I love.

Today as I was reading some blogs, I heard a tug on my door. I looked outside and the trees were bending so hard, I thought they were going to break. I live in a flat. This means the only sounds I hear are the soft strokes of the heavy wind on my window and the small rain drops sky diving onto its glass.

I used to live in a house before where I could hear the pouring rain on the roof and the wind was more noisy. Here in the flat, I hear only the softest sounds as the roof is much higher above me. This thought absolutely inspired me and I am going to do something new today. I am just going to sit down and write the verses that come to my head, whatever they may be. This is an example of my ‘a day(rainy) in the life’. This is for all you poets out there. Please tell me what you think. I would absolutely love to hear from you!

I sit in front of the window, my head on my palms. My fingers lightly rub my cheek in the excitement of what is outside. It is as if the heart of the earth is beating normal, but its blood is going fast, craving for the heart to somehow keep up.  For inside my room, the atmosphere is calm and gentle, but on the outside, where it really matters, everything is fast. It is a strange strangeness, a beautiful confusion.

I blink as a flash of lightning erupts in the sky, cutting the dark and bringing light. Seems very strange that from the very clouds that make it dark, a light would shine. God suddenly seems to whisper in my ear-‘Just as I make ‘everything’, even the hard and painful things in life work out for you for the better because you love me’. I smile and my eyes dart back to the rain.

The trees are now bowing, the branches like hairs on end. I get up and slowly and carefully open my window a few inches, air gushes in and sends the papers on my desk flying. They seem to be jumping up and down, happy! I stand and look. The door of my room slams shut and I am thrown back into reality. I shut the door and sit back again.

I hear the orchestra playing outside, like the ocean in a sea shell, somehow refined and coloured just for me. Now and then a drop hits my window creating a rhythm  so consistent, it baffles my senses of logic. I lie down and hear the wind outside. Here in my bed, inside my blanket, wrapped up in a cocoon, like a butterfly waiting to go out, into a world that will be brand new in a matter of minutes, I feel nothing but hear.

My eyelids start to droop, ever so slightly and the lightning outside wakes me up. My eyelids droop again, this time, the lightning is not heard. My brain stops worrying about the rain, but I still hear it somehow and then I lie there still, my mouth slightly open. Why do I always sleep with my mouth open??

The rain stops after a while. It slows it’s song down to a whisper then to a single drop. Very much like the tap of a pencil on a cymbal, dull but unique. The song of the rain is somehow strange. Instead of starting with a whisper and ending in a crescendo, it does the exact opposite. God is indeed a great artist. His song of the rain is my favourite yet.

 

If you like this, also check out an earlier post of mine very much like this and tell me if you want more posts like these. Hope you guys have a fantastic day and God bless!!!!

https://thefourthdimensionoflife.wordpress.com/2017/07/16/when-leaves-bow/