Our lives are filled with stories. Love stories, travel stories, work stories. Stories about lessons learned, family, happiness, hopes, dreams, and mistakes. A collection of fragments, words bound between a cover. A dance between people, steps, smiles, emptiness and fulfillment. A tango with the devil, a jive with an angel. Absorbing sensations the way a paintbrush grasps each colour it touches on a palette.
I am absolutely, totally in love with my life. High on life, high on the air I breath. It has not always been easy. There were many tears, heartbreaks and doubts. But when I sit here in a bus bringing me from one place to another, writing this fragment, seeing an intense world passing by I can only be humbled by all that I see, feel, hear and smell. All the experiences, sparkles, people and thoughts. All my journeys, paths and roads. All trains I have taken, all that I have let pass by without me getting on. Because now and then even a wrong train will bring you to the right station*.
However sometimes, when I see all these people on the streets. People I have never met before, and who will probably never cross my path again. When I see them, selling fruits, welding steel, talking in their phone, I wonder why we are all here. Why we are taking steps and decisions. Why we are speaking words and taking turns, with hardly any impact. I have always thought that I do not just live for myself, nor for my family, or a possible lover. I live for the universe. Where we can feel our soul in all existence.
So let’s just be happy to be. To live, breath, love and feel. Without attachment, without prejudice and expectations. Without any judgement. Because maybe someones anger is sadness turned inside out, and happiness a feeling of freedom turned upside down.
*from The Lunchbox