How we see the world
HASAN PIRZADA
Try it. I was in Jamaica when I did. I was on winter vacation, with the family. The music was really loud. I was at one of the nightly productions the staff at our resort put on: Cinderella, with a reggae twist. To tell you the truth it was actually very entertaining, but I just wasn’t feeling it. It was the second last night we had, and I didn’t want to just sit there. So I got up and left. I might have stepped on a few people’s feet as I was leaving.
The beach was right there. No one puts the beach chairs away, so they just sit there all night. I took one step onto the sand and it, well, it was magic. All the sound around me vanished. The music from the stage behind me just disappeared. It wasn’t sudden, either. It faded away, and I was alone.
The sound of the waves replaced that music. And the light breeze did, too. For some reason (and I didn’t even think about it), I sat on the sand. Would you believe it was still warm?
And so I lay back. And I looked up. And I saw them.
It was completely dark outside. The sky looked like black ink. And in that black, inky, sky, spread out seemingly so random, were the stars. It was the first time I had ever seen them. If you saw them the way I did, you would say the same thing. There is almost nothing that can be compared to it. The light from those stars didn’t touch anything. Each one was separate and it’s light only showed that it, indeed, existed.
And I lay there. Eventually, I started to think, too. There is no way that I am the only one who could have seen them like that. The stars.
Because, it’s not just the quiet. It’s not just the peace and the silence. It has to do with the way you see the world; it’s how you see the world. Those stars change it, or maybe, they make you think about it for the first time. Perhaps you see yourself when you look up at those bright lights. You see everything you have done, and everything that you are going to do. You even see what you wish you could do, but never will. You understand absolutely everything, or understand none of it. You see how small you are on the outside, and how big you are inside. You see everything that will be affected by what you do. You also see that nothing can be affected by yourself alone. You see what you think matters, turn into something else. You see that everything is OK and that you’ll be all right, but that nothing will be OK unless so much changes. Then, you blink.
I realized I had been lying there for minutes. I blinked again and sat up quickly, rubbing my eyes. The sand all over my back made my shirt seem heavy. Most of it fell off when I got up, and covered up the impression I had made where I was lying. No one would be able to tell there was someone there. The music started to come back. Catchy. The breeze went away and the waves just melted.
I swear I didn’t make this up.
Try it.
