Tales and Journeys

What does the world really feel like, and what is the most true way to feel? In the next paragraphs, I conclude that this difference in feeling, this paradox of the human soul, disappears when we realize what is really going on.

Not so rarely, I find myself engulfed in some specific emotional landscape. It can be the set of emotions found in a specific book, the strings pulled by a certain album, or even the emotions brought forth by the nature around me. While in this landscape, the similar emotions within me stand out more clearly and are easier to access. I all but settle down in the surroundings and become a part of the experience.

Like all works of art, emotional landscapes have an array of emotions, some more present than others, and put together in a unique way. So while no landscape relates to one single emotion, different landscapes can take up wholly different sections of the great continent of emotions. Also, just as a musical piece can be complete in and of itself, so can a landscape feel complete and un-lacking. In effect, two completely seperate landscapes can both feel like the “most real” one.

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The moss-covered rocks were looking more distinct than usual; much like when a distant window reflects the setting sun, it was as if this very moment made the rocks more relevant… to the extent that he was starting to wonder why he was still thinking about them. It was then he realized that this might be what the old man had been talking about all along.

Dropping the bag, he slowed his pace so that he could take it all in. Leaves were dropping all around, some caught in the wind, some whisping across the ground. Looking up at the sky, he could see them swirl, adding an element of life to the treetops and the clouds, in a succession of beautiful moments. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he focused on the sounds instead. He could hear where the leaves rustled and where they fell. In his mind it was as if he had never closed his eyes at all.

And just like that, the connection was made. Throughout his whole body, he could sense it. He could not explain it, but there was no doubt as to what it was. All that remained, was to move out of this position. He started by shaking his arm. It felt both natural and not at the same time, and nothing like he expected. It was more like hitting a branch and sense it sway. The movement belonged to the thought, but not so much to the body.

Of course not. His body had nothing to do with it. The thought flowed through his consciousness along with a suggestive notion; why, then, would the body that is not present, set the limits for what he could do?

Whispering his farewell, he flew into another world.

At their feet, lights were dancing along the path, illuminating it in a reddish light. Above their heads, the sky was speckled with stars, save the shroud of a few dark clouds. The couple skipped along, holding hands. The chill of the autumn air made their cheeks burn, but that was only another sensation to savour — like the soft reaction of the trodden soil, broken by occasional roots and harder ground; like the sound the flames made when they bent and twisted; like the sight of the swaying trees, or silhouettes of trees, beyond the reach of the light. All of it, together, made this into a night they would never ever forget.

She stumbled, but he caught her in a heartbeat. Laughing, she hugged him and then dragged him on, nearly making him stumble this time. By now, they had long forgotten why they were hurrying. It was not so important anymore. The most important thing now, was that the path did not end.