Gitanjali

“…On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.

Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange smell in the south wind.

That vague fragrance made my heart ache with longing, and it seemed to me that it was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.

I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and this perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart….”

The Uphill Man

To set the mood, I write this to “Near The Woods” by The Flashbulb, on my iPod, as I broke my laptop sound card by standing on it getting out of bed a few months back, and my brother’s PC reboots itself without starting and I can’t be bothered to fix it, oops.

The weather has been intermittently fantastic the past few days. Finally! Yes! The sunsets of yesterday and the day before were astounding – a big and red sun sinking to new horizons, brilliant! I’ve found it hard to find motivation to “work” now that it’s been so beautiful outside – it’s almost been blasphemy to stay inside denying the beauty of everything outside bathed in the sun’s light.

So, gladly trying to avoid the endless list of tasks to do for my film project before I return to Canterbury – I gladly agreed to Photoshop a photo of my cousin who wants to send off her photo to some fashion agency or something. As I stepped out of my door I saw the man (pictured above) struggling to push a trolley full of cast iron metal up the slight incline that is Thornhill Road. He stopped to look at me for what is longer than a non-committal glance of curiosity society allows without requiring any acknowledgement of the persons existence – before I realised I wanted to help him push the trolley up the hill, asking him if he wanted help (sorta funny when that’s exactly what I’ll be doing as part of my final year project film). Now, I am listening to a beautifully expressive folk Greek song called “Καρδιά Στα Δυο” (Heart In Two). I know the Greeks invented emo really - that or they’re more expressive with their emotions, or they’re crudely hyperbolic. Singing this song driving is a very enjoyable experience for me… now back to the point.

Lets call this man Craig, since I’ve forgotten due to the sedative drugs given to me for my wisdom tooth extracting operation yesterday, which has made me dizzy for the past two days. A very convenient excuse indeed. Craig said “no thank you” to help pushing the trolley up the road. He paused to face the road and leave, before returning a curious glance and a warm smile. I wanted to talk to Craig, I saw that he wanted to talk to me. So he told me he had lost his car since his license was taken away from him for being caught drink driving. He also told me he used to be a millionaire despite appearances. I told him “I know this sounds dodgy, but I want a photograph of you – please just stay there and I’ll be right back!” So I ran indoors, swapped my empty battery for a semi-empty spare battery, ran out and this is the first photo I took of him. What’s special about the photo? Absolutely nothing. What’s special about its contents for me? Capturing a memory for myself of this seemingly frail (however not so) man who struggled to push a trolley of things up a hill – something I though I wouldn’t have struggled with… who knows. I saw a daring and honest man in his face, in the wrinkles and character age brought to his appearance. Lets face it – in the magical evening hours before the sun sets – everything is bathed in a rich and vibrant yellow / red light that makes even the most insignificant grain of soil that hides behind a stone in the road interesting to look at.

So I spoke to this man, a self-proclaimed socialite, a hard working man who worked from nothing to gain so much materially, having a hunger for people and being good to them along the way. Having a fruity story about how he was stolen from by a wife he was incompatible with – how he knew the Greeks of Plymouth, speaking to some guy who passed down the road about some dealings, in a cheeky manner. Yes, I liked this man. I liked how he seemed full of life and dignity before me. I liked how he proudly (but not arrogantly) shrugged off dirty / uncomfortable looks passers by gave him as they passed by (including the BMW owning lady who lives two doors up from me).

Either way – regardless of the tasks I ‘have’ to do, talking to him was very refreshing for me. I know this upcoming Plymouth / Canterbury transition is strange for me. It’s a crossroads like any transition – despite it being my third of a kind – I am entering my third year after all. It’s full of opportunity, yet at the same time restraint in the hurdles of projects which sometimes seem banal and meaningless.

At Anthony’s house I Google’d “Lao Tsu”. He wrote Tao Te Ching: a powerful and influential Philosophy book full of wisdom. I read it on a train years ago, making me wanting to live the following modified words: “the wise man puts himself last but finds himself first”. It ended up in the hands of Tristan More (I wonder where the book resides nowadays, and indeed, what Tristan is doing). Below is an excerpt of Tao Te Ching and the song which I listen to on the gym mats, traveling to another place.

“True words are not pretty
Pretty words are not true
Wise men do not talk about the Unspeakable
One who talks about the Unspeakable is not wise
Wise men are not learned
And learned ones aren’t wise
A wise man doesn’t gather possessions
He gives what he has
And therefore he is worthy of living
He shares his wisdom with others
His wisdom is never-ending
Living according to nature never harms
The life of a wise man is unselfish and peaceful”

So today, the dentist / receptionist lady Mandy rang me to inform me kindly that tomorrow the swelling of my face will worsen – as “the third day always is the worst” after having your wisdom teeth taken out. Anthony kept laughing at me after a while (saying Ben, which sounded more like Pen or a farting noise started it off, I think). I looked in his mirror and took photos and from then on could not take myself seriously either. And so, here is the evidence… the first photo influenced by a supportive comparison Vaggeli linked me to via MSN. Thanks Vagg.

Βαγγέλης says (00:19):
you look like the characters from chicken run
http://www.wallpaperbase.com/wallpapers/cartoons/chickenrun/chicken_run_3.jpg

For What It’s Worth

That’s right people. Sell your land, your goats and your virgin daughters and find riches and joyness in the expanse of the world out there, free of candy-dressed-ness.

Book: Khalil Gibran - The Prophet

Do that, whilst I sit here counting all my glorious possessions whilst feeling a whole lot more awesome for it.