Sunday morning


Sunday morning. Church. Breakfast. Football. Conversations. Mostly rumination.

A young girl talks to me about God. And all those things that are probably wrong with humankind. Her confident strokes of logic calms my unjustified rage against uniformity and conformity. I think of all those instruments of seduction. I tore open my dream-vending machine and take a good look at all the parts inside it. They are all well oiled and functioning as per THE PLAN. Then what could be wrong? I kept listening to the little girl.

It took me a while to realize that maybe I’ve forgotten to wonder at all the little things and moments that shape our life. As we grow up, we all consume the fruits of cynicism in excess and our brains become factories of misanthropic instruments. I thought to myself – maybe I need to reintroduce myself to innocence and wonder. Just like this little girl. And just as that thought was about to evaporate, I saw a faint sardonic light in the eyes of an old man who came and offered me the kiss of peace during the worship. The old man was too old and lost to think of all these things. And it struck me that time had just collapsed in likeness and I could see myself as that old man in the distant future who refused or couldn’t participate in the world filled with wonder of that little girl. I don’t want to be that old man.

Mostly rumination. Conversations. Football. Breakfast. Church. Sunday morning.


~ by rb on June 30, 2013.

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