Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour

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You know, I think we all need to be reminded how incredibly infinitesimal we are. Perhaps all the time. It’s so startlingly easy to get carried away into a dull monotone of what constitutes our rambling, pandering routine, where we truly think piecemeal seconds saved by rushing here and there; grabbing your morning bagel with cream cheese to go without thanking your server, inadvertently hitting a kid on the way & not apologising because you’re out of time, always running out of time.

So I recently acquired an old world map from Cat Socrates — quite antiquated because it’s a map with the ‘chief countries and their colonies; also the Ocean Currents’ with colour coded territories for England, France, Germany, Russia, Finland, Denmark, Belgium, Italy, etc. Right after I put it up on my wall, I spent a fair amount of time staring blankly at it, my eyes traveling from the mere spot where Singapore should was (colour-coded pink for England) and the indicated trade routes, and then to the rest to the world. I let that settle for awhile. That we are so unbelievably RUNTY!

I put that into a vibrant perspective when I went to Club Med Bintan. The concrete jungle of rather unappealing buildings stacked high into vastness, the constant sounds of thumping and people speaking I learnt to drown out, the omnipresent feeling of feeling so enclosed, so confined, so constricted was gladly replaced by blue. All blue.

The lovely thing was that blue came in shades. The shades of the sky where blue was blended intricately with ochre and blanche and the shimmering pink, and the palette of the Ocean where it was all royal, turquoise, and a sphere of lightness where the sunlight glistened.

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It was so easy to feel small, lying on your back against sand granules that had their own personal Universes altogether, surrounded by vastness all around. The sea (the world) in front of me, the infinite above, and the mystery under. It was a truly liberating feeling, knowing that you are, in essence, a universe of many, many, many. And you are a mix of complex dualities, a crusade of binaries, for you are both significant, and not so.

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The roaring waves, the silent sea. Sailboats listening to the call of the wind, and I listening to the swish of it against the tide.

I love my country, but sometimes I do think we’re hidden within the realms the attic of the universe, with the slightest window encased in clear glass; polished hourly to wonder at the thrills that lie beyond, yet confined to our excessiveness & materialism. We take tours, we travel every holiday, & that’s when we marvel through the window. But perhaps the way out is realness, not being afraid of talking to the unknown; a few phatic greetings here & there, a crease on the cloth smoothened out to make way for flow.

Always in a turnstile when it comes to it. How can self-control, the right music, a good movie ever be bad? //

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‘Rivers know there’s no hurry. We will get there someday.‘ :’-))))))))))))))

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