I had simply walked out in search of company. I did not want anything of an adventurous kind. I was just lacking the weight of human relations, that weight that renders us light; I wanted to come into contact with someone, anyone, whosoever! An idea came into my mind: the bar! Sometimes it is the place of confluence and the point of interaction. It could be relaxing sometimes, I thought to myself.
So I went to a bar. There were lots of people drinking and singing with the Videoke. The place was noisy with tables packed with little groups of friends, drinking and having fun. I wanted to observe, I wanted to feel close to other humans. I took my seat at the far end of the bar, almost so close to the corner, and ordered two bottles of Red Horse for myself. I just wanted to drink the tiredness of the week out of my mind and break away from the monotony of work and the overbearing familiarity with my room.
But soon, as the people drank and chatted and sang, I noticed a deaf man in the bar, seated at the opposite end of the hall, he was clapping his hands and nodding his head to the rhythm of music. He wasn't drinking. He had no company but seemed to enjoy every bit of what went on in the bar. My gaze came to rest on him... I watched him as he opened his mouth, sometimes widely, sometimes slightly and emitted audible, senseless (because I could not understand) sounds.
I ordered two drinks for him and watched him drink with relish, savoring every sip he took from the drink. He would lift his eyes to me with a grin and comprehensive nod. I could not talk with him. But somehow, I understood that he meant we were friends, and when he lifted his thumb, I knew he meant to tell me that nothing was greater than friendship. As he nodded at me I felt so close to the human race.
The image of this deaf and numb stayed in my sleep and in my dream and awakened in me a secret joy no one could steal from me. We had shared a lot in that brief exchange of nods, and smiles. It went beyond what formal language could express.
No matter how broken or ill begotten we might be, we are called to celebrate life. Even if we can't do much, we can at least allow the music of the lives of others reach the very depths of our soul to awaken our joy. That is all I lived yesterday. The hilarious joy of the deaf man allayed the depression of the week. And I could wake up with that image impressed upon my mind to continue in the journey of more meaningful encounters.
welcome to the WORLD OF HAVEN VALLEY
I am not a cut different from the ordinary human who walks the street. But in my journey, I strive to understand the music that surges from the wide worlds within every individual, that which makes him/her that fragile and sacred at the same time. I have found myself sometimes looking at someone farting with thumps-up as though goading him on to sanity. Seemingly meaningless things have been things that have communicated sense to me especially during louring hours. That is what this journal is. I offer these thoughts to the world with wonted pleasure and gratitude to all that awakens the human in me.