#cliffside path

The Old Seaport

Artist: Joseph Edward Southall (English, 1861-1944)

Date: 1919-1925

Medium: Tempera on canvas

The Old Seaport

Artist: Joseph Edward Southall (English, 1861-1944)

Date: 1919-1925

Medium: Tempera on canvas

Collection: Manchester Art Gallery, Manchester, United Kingdom

Description

We as humans, always crave for warmth in our lives. We are always in search of a cozy overall that could cover us, whilst we curl up against the wall; of a hug that could envelop us so well that the thought of leaving it never occurs; of a hoodie so warm that our hands in its pockets make it a beautiful forever... 

The crackling bonfire and the blazing orange yellow light falling on my face, made me fall in love with myself, not because I looked beautiful, but because for the first time, I was content alone. I tugged onto my hoodie and drew my knees closer to my chest watching the stars twinkle and tell me stories of travellers, they had seen walk down the same path.

A few cats had curled around the bonfire, basking in the glow of the miniature sun (bonfire); and suddenly the wind blew. It blew in such fierceness, that it swooped away the little light I had and left me in darkness. It wasn’t the darkness that took away my courage, the idea that I had to keep loving myself even in circumstances of darkness -times like these- did the job.

The cinder kept glowing red, and gave the little warmth it could. It was the one selfless act I saw in a lifetime. It was burnt, very little of it remained, yet it glowed and glowed till it was reduced to ashes; only to give some warmth. The cats had strayed away, in search of another source of warmth.

I could, now hear, the sound of crickets, the rustling of the leaves, the distant howls of the wolves and the shuffling of deers’ hooves; I could hear, the sound of life running for life, ahead of lives, that ran for sustaining their lives.

It all seemed surreal and for the first time I realised how little the universe cares about one single person. I don’t wish to belittle the space we occupy in it, but afterall it really doesn’t matter much when one person ceases to exist. It pushed me to go towards the edge of the cliff, where I could attain my leap of faith.

As I neared the end of it, I stumbled on a twig and clutched frantically in the air for support, and thats when PROJECT Leap of Faith cancelled itself and I saw why I needed to live. The very first rays of sun fell upon my face and I realised that love wasn’t love if it was indebted to vision, audio, light, dark, ability or for that matter anything that had credit to itself.

I had to build myself up in pieces that were strewn away only because of my one faltered trust. It is natural for a human to trust, but it is an inherent responsibility to look after one’s mental peace, even if the trust is shattered by those closest. I faltered at my responsibilty and hence amn’t supposed to blame another.

Seeing the horizon is good for your soul 🌄