Unbound

Peering at the clouds, I sometimes feel a sense of envy. Glancing at those ephemeral forms—ever-changing yet omnipresent. They provide a sense of freedom that I wish to have in the grasp of my hands. Just wishing to reach out and have a sense of solidity at the tip of my fingers. Alas, it is only a whimsical dream. It is nigh-impossible to hold something that is so delicate and fades at a finger’s touch. 

Life, like a cloud, has no true shape that one could grab hold of. Every moment is unpredictable and has an uncountable amount of outcomes. One moment could be thunderous and dark or hushed and bright; strangely permanent or ever-fleeting. There is no day and no moment which resembles the other. Asking for the repetition of a memory is understandable but highly futile.

However, I believe there is a good reason behind such an injustice to the human psyche, which finds alleviation in patterns and repetition. I believe in the idea of the uniqueness of a memory. Belonging to only you, so vivid in your mind and shared by only words of being recounted. Think about it, how special could a memory truly be if it is repeated over and over like a clock? Monotonically passing through the cycles, it would take away its individuality altogether. For example, your first fond memory would not be nearly as elating if you had to undergo it a thousand times. Contrasting with that, it is a sigh of relief that your worst memories are also a brief encounter.

There is great joy in experiencing a moment that is never to be repeated. Something that is so solitary, something that never was and never will be all for your keeping.  It is those singular moments of melancholy, nostalgia, happiness that make up a soul. If not for these experiences, there would be little difference between life and a hamster wheel. Albeit, the uncertainty of existence is sometimes terrifying to say the least. Yet, I would have it no other way. It is the capricious nature of life itself that allows one such an opportunity to just…live.

I believe nothing to be set in stone. It is in one’s own hands to conjure their story and craft their destiny. It matters not whether your life has the impermanence of clouds; one thing shall remain nonetheless true. Those memories that you concoct with your life would be solely yours, atypical than any gem and more scintillating too. Just the same as a cloud, there will not be one which is like the other, and that is a beautiful thing in and of itself. It is a joyous occasion every moment you are awake.

Untethered and unbound, those humongous yet airy forms are never hollow. Filled with the essence of life itself. The harbingers of rain and peace. Even so, you need not bring those qualities for others. Not everything you do needs to have a motive. You are allowed to live for yourself. It matters not whether your presence is the shade that provides relief from harsh rays of light or from a much-needed drought. Occupy not yourself with such thoughts and just exist. Hence, such lessons are what one could learn from a cloud forevermore, for every dark cloud has a silver lining.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/0c5424_721340cae4eb4cc3b554c379ccd72862/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

This is the scenery I had in my mind when I was writing this piece.