The Memoir of a
Sitting Moment
“We do not receive
wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey
through the wilderness, which no one else can make for us,
which no one can spare us, for our wisdom is the point of
view from which we come at last to regard the
world”.
Marcel
Proust
The definition of solo as it stands is to go
at something or participate in an event without
accompaniment, to stand-alone with nothing but the
backdrop of your own shadow and the consolation of your
inner being. How much do you really know about yourself?
To abstain from your daily routine and place yourself in
a moment of complete nothingness will test both your
mental and physical endurance ability. By involving
yourself in such an exercise you will find yourself
coming face to face with an array of on going moods and
emotions as well as giving birth to a heightened sense of
awareness for the world that surrounds you.
We spend the majority of our days consumed
in ourselves. From the moment we pull ourselves out of
bed in the mornings our minds chase the run away train of
that daily routine. We become fixated on intangible
matter such as time and the tasks that lay ahead of us.
Things like what we need to do, what we have done and
what we didn’t manage to do all play a crucial part in
making up the foundations of our world, welded together
by the ever-growing booming markets of technology and
communication. For most of us it sounds something like
this; wake up to the sound of an irate alarm clock, push
past the bustle of panicked commuters all scurrying to
their private starting lines, juggling mobile phones and
newspapers, briefcases and umbrellas you step into the
arena of contracts, PCs, suits, deadlines and bosses.
Coated in cooperate formalities and tongue you endeavor
in stealth the art of seduction as the person on the
other end of your Blackberry um’s and ahh’s about the
latest set of commercial figures you are
offering.
Clinch the deal before it whisks past you in the
hurricane winds of this cooperate battleground. Before
you have had time to scoff that sandwich and guzzle that
half-cup of cold Starbucks coffee your day winks and
waves goodbye. Go
home? Go to
the gym? Get drunk? Get high? Watch a last minute film?
Meet up with some friends? Pick the kids up? Make
some food? Cuddle up to the wife and gaze passively
beyond the flashing images in front of you.
Sex? Not
tonight, as tomorrow you will only need to do it all over
again. Work your self to the ground for that week break
in the sun where you get a moment to breath and
smile. Ask
yourself though is this living? Every day is filled with
new life, new sounds and new moments yet we are all too
self-centered to notice anything outside of us. You
shouldn’t need to wait for that authorized holiday away
to say you have embraced life, you are alive and that
means you are well within your right to live within the
compounds of life in every way and design.
This may not be the exact lifestyle that
each one of us leads but somewhere along this motorway of
life we can see ourselves, switching lanes, slowing down,
speeding up, and swearing at other drivers who just
decide to cut us up with no warning or indication. You
could link life to a motorway, a bunch of people in
different vehicles all racing to get to their destination
in time, but in time for what? Do we not all share the
same destination? What ever happened to
looking around you and encapsulating the journey in all
its essential beauty? Due to the nature of our lifestyle
and the determination for survival we sadly miss out on
so much paradoxically, thinking that all the while we are
gaining more through our meticulous efforts. It is almost
the same as eating a meal but never actually
acknowledging the vast array of flavors that are bursting
with each mouthful you take, your main objective is to
fill the hunger inside you, however you know you will
eventually return to that state of hunger in a few hours,
but that exact meal however is something that is not
reoccurring nor can that instant ever be revisited. That
is what we do, we act on impulse and craving, everything
we do is done in order to get something back or it is out
of duty and dependability. From casual socializing to the
intensity and devotion of raising a family, somewhere
along the line we see our reward and that fuels our
notion giving us our reason to continue. Nonetheless
during this whole period that can easily last a lifetime,
how much have you failed to notice, absorb, understand
and embrace?
Maybe if you leave your mind for a short while you will
begin to see not just the road ahead but also the entire
surroundings that the road you travel sits
on.
This type of existential thought led me to
run the gauntlet of self-resistance and once again I met
myself in the ring. I decided to spend 5 days away in a
foreign country with an aim to become as redundant as
possible. This basically meant to do nothing but
simultaneously do everything. If you try for example to
find a park bench and just sit yourself down for an
entire hour you will begin to see a whole world unfold in
front of you, but this will only happen if your mind is
prepared to absorb what surrounds it. That was my
intention for this trip, to bypass the initial stages of
boredom and lethargy and develop the ability to sit in a
meditative state and capture everything around me. I
wanted to embrace everything from sounds and colors; to
smells and tastes and as an extra challenge I wanted to
do this over a period of time to test my endurance
ability. I also wanted to amplify my emotional experience
so I put together a selection of music that I knew would
purposefully have some governance over my feelings and
thoughts. Not only did I want to rejuvenate my awareness
skills but I wanted to try and understand my emotions,
what causes me to feel a certain way and what could do to
overcome those feelings. I wanted to try and diagnose the
cause and effect of those emotions or thoughts that hold
elements of negativity and all matter that posses the
capability of stunting my metaphysical progression. We
all let ourselves slide down the path of least resistance
at times never really trying to tackle the root of our
anguish, pain, suffering, egotism and loss. As emotions
are something we all use to communicate, understand and
express ourselves I wanted to find a centered level of
thinking, with clarity and calmness, that way I could be
sure that my thoughts we not being influenced by an
external party. I would use this state of tranquility to
explore freely the deeper dimensions of feelings,
response and behavior with the hope to gain a more
profound understanding of cause and effect. By applying
intelligence with patience and meditation we are able to
dwell innately into parts of ourselves that up until now
remain unexplored and unidentified.
Once I was in the moment I planed to
document my moods and emotions as a reference point for
me once the trip had reached an end. So I took with me my
notepad and a small pen, only making annotations when I
felt the need for written expression. As music was my
only companion on the trip I decided to name each day
after a song that helped intensify my
experience.
Before I present my notes I would like to
point out that my main philosophical school of thought
before I embarked on my journey was that I made myself
fully aware that no moment is ever permanent or
relievable. I accepted that life is an ambiguous series
of uncertain and untraceable events occurring through a
matrix of past circumstance, thus generating a current
wave of what we call our present reality. No moment in our life
is everlasting so it’s unwise to act upon anything with
the idea that it is absolute. It is all a journey to be
embraced, understood and built upon.
Day 1:
Dolerean – Beachcomber
Blues
I’m sitting here on a set of rocks
overlooking the south part of this Mediterranean island.
The night is beautifully warm and animated, a gentle
breeze whispers through to rustle these sun dried palm
trees and if I place my attention elsewhere, I can hear
the delicate glide of lazy waves finding their way to a
smooth sandy shore. The moon is full and confident as its
perched high and bold in what almost seems to be a
bottomless sky, the sea is lit in a silhouette of black
and white. In the distant water I see the speckled dots
of boats and tankers sitting unwearyingly in the cool
water. The time now is 11.40pm, the people of this tiny
island are finishing off an evening of casual strolling
and lounging. They come here from all over the world,
some to work, some to start fresh, others simply just
have no where else to go. The promise of a better
tomorrow dawns in the hearts of the hopeful. Young men
sit sprawled over rocks in little huddles of 3 or 4, a
lit cigarette gently being puffed accompanied by a cold
beverage to help wash away the sweat and grind of another
busted day in this blistering heat. The laughter
carries them to places of ease and kinship whilst they
sit looking out on to sea, the sun sinking into
tomorrow’s sky and the silent sigh of uncertainty is a
sound they have all become accustomed to.
It’s been 24 hours since I spoke to anyone,
by that I mean family or friends. It feels odd having the
mental freedom to drift in and out of different
thoughts.
I look around at all the faces of the people
here. Russian, Indian, Sri Lankan, Moroccan, Algerian,
Polish and Greek. I feel invisible to the
world.
Tonight I walked amongst the shadows of men and women,
children and the elderly. Each group caught up in
conversation, each group walking unintentionally through
each other’s world. For a split second we become part of
the same picture. I can honestly say that I am enjoying
this solitude. The silence, the independence, and the
fact I have nothing to do and nowhere to go allows me to
tune into parts of the world I didn’t know even existed
before. The cough of the man behind me as he smokes his
fourth cigarette, the giggle of the young girl to the
right of me as her partner gently tickles her and
wrestles her down onto the sand. There is a guy sitting
on the next set of rocks, he seems to be texting on his
phone, if I close my eyes and focus I can hear the sound
of the keys he’s pressing. Young families enjoy these
imperative moments of their newborn babies straddling
their way down to the sea front. I can see their eyes,
wide and ecstatic as they jump to photograph and capture
the moment. I wonder if I too one day will be able to own
such moments and share them as freely as the people here.
I look and see the meaning each person has. Everyone has
a position to play, a role to fill. Be it at work or at
home, their sense of meaning defines their existence. I
am still to meet this feeling, maybe I will never feel it
or maybe I already found it but just haven’t been able to
nurture the ability to immerse myself in it.
I am here to confess that I have reached a
point in my life where I feel completely and utterly
lost. My dreams have dissolved into mere freckles and all
ambition has now stagnated to nothing but a rotting
stench. I am looking for something but not sure what, I
hear sound but its all in a foreign tongue, I see the
people of the world but they do not see me, I move but
only within this invisible light.
I walked for 3 hours, lost in the harmonies
of my music and exploring the complex dimensions of the
thoughts I donate so much of my time to. Coming to grips
with the honesty of my reality, I am trying to put myself
in a position that I can see as real. Me, sitting in a
comfortable position, at a job that values my
intellectual ability to perform and offers me the
opportunity to grow and develop as a respected member of
an industry. I see a beautiful woman calm and sensual
mothering a small baby, I see myself holding the baby
high in the air and kissing the very innocence bestowed
upon its unscathed skin. My lady smiling with tears of
the most pure and truest happiness as we dance amongst
the sound of this perfect harmony. These are my little
dreams or maybe just tunnels of escape, either way it
fills me with a warm sensation and for a few seconds
everything seems in its place. I know life is not this
candy-coated experience and that people are ugly just as
sure as they are beautiful, I just want to taste
something real even if it be only for a
moment.
The wind is picking up here now and the
night is slowly beginning to feel more and more asleep.
Just the sound of the waves can be heard now. I think ill go
back to the hotel and get some rest. Tomorrow is another
day.
Day 2:
Red Hot Chili Peppers – Scar
Tissue
Today was an unbearably hot day. I hit the
beach at around 10am and by midday I was burnt. My skin
is on fire. The night is a little warmer tonight and
there is no breeze. There is a sweet buzz around the city
of Limassol this evening and the people are once again
out in force, exercising in packs of three or four,
walking through easy conversation. The pace of the island
seems settled and calm. I found a little place that sells
hot food as I was beginning to get fed up with kebabs for
lunch and dinner. I bought a meal and took it to my
grandmothers to eat. The flat is only used in the summer
when my family from London come over and holiday for a
few weeks. I have never seen it so bare and empty, all
around are pictures of people dead and gone. People I don’t even
know, people that I never got to meet. I opened the door and
walked into a dark and musty living room, it felt as if
the walls held hostage all the voices of those who once
walked within this place. They heard everyone’s silent
confessions. I walked into the room my grandfather died
in, it felt flat and somber. It smelt old and forgotten
then a thought struck me, it would have been beneath this
very roof that he would have swum in his last thought.
What would he have been thinking, a private lament for
the regrets he endured? Did he die with a
peaceful heart? Did it hit him right at that moment when
he breathed his last breath that all the pain and
suffering he had to undergo for all those years meant
absolutely nothing now? At the moment of death all is
lost. I wonder what will go through my head when I
breathe my last breath. Either way it wouldn’t matter, to
quote the religious philosopher Pascal “The last act is
always tragic however happy the rest of the play
was”.
Once I ate my food I washed my dishes and
headed back out for my evening walk. I walked for 3 hours
straight; my feet began to blister so the walk back was a
lot harder. The whole time I watched the cars and
motorbikes go past, each with a destination each with a
purpose.
Only I didn’t have a purpose, I was simply walking, I had
no real destination and there was no clear motive for me
walking, I was simply killing time. It then dawned on me
that I had been doing just that since leaving university.
This moment mirrored my life. Without clear purpose
and meaning life is pretty much useless just like the
walking I have been doing, yet if I didn’t walk I
wouldn’t have reached this stage, so maybe it wasn’t a
waste, maybe nothing is a waste as long as we find the
meaning embedded in the action.
I ended up on the pier with some
fishermen.
The water was still and clear, the time was about 1am. I
marveled curiously at the fish swimming around freely in
the shallow waters and then noted how they were cunningly
being attracted to the rubber worms that lay dangling on
the fishermen’s hooks. A boy of 11 years old
hung over the pier cursing one particular fish who I
think must of figured out the worms were rubber, as the
fish approached the hook I could see the cautiousness it
carried, it would quickly turn away and dart off in the
other direction. At that moment I saw the
similarities that these little prehistoric creatures and
we humans have, they too are trying to survive through
the struggle of life, and they too have their own
definition of happiness just as we do. They too get sucked
into biting the ‘rubber worm’ that has been meticulously
put out there by the fishermen, but it’s the ones who see
the truth who can continue to swim freely and find what
it means to survive. What is our sole purpose on this
planet, be it man or ape, reptile or amphibian, hot or
cold blooded, carnivore or herbivore. To quote one of my
favorite thinkers, Plato once stated that “Eternal
happiness is the universal purpose of life”, so that
suggests anything that breaths life must be on the search
for everlasting happiness in some way or another, be it
through eating just to stay alive or buying a two week
cruise in the Caribbean. Tonight that
little fish saw through the con and the young fisherman
got to exercise his cursing vocabulary. As I write this a
little sparrow just came and sat next to me on this
bench, for a moment we both looked out to sea,
contemplating the marvels of this crazy dimension we live
in. He flew off a few seconds later but I captured the
moment, however I unfortunately cannot fly away, instead
I must sit here and just be.
Day 3:
Lemon Grass – Spaceship
Today I moved from the hotel I was staying
in to my grandmas flat. I walked 20 minutes in
the blistering heat and arrived drenched in sweat. The
flat seems a lot brighter today. I opened the windows and
pulled the blinds up. Cyprus has a wonderful energy, it
can make even the darkest places seem vibrant and
phosphorent. Once I unpacked and put my swimming shorts
on I headed down towards the beach. It was 36 degrees and
the sky was a piercing blue. I saw my Moroccan friend; he
was waiting drinks for all those lounging in the swelter
of the afternoon sun. He looked content though, he said
something to me the other day that I haven’t been able to
forget, we were talking about life and me coming over to
Cyprus on my own, I told him I like to keep things
simple, the more people you have the more complicated it
gets, he replied with; “I like simple, simplicity is a
beautiful thing”. I found this quite humbling as he
scurried off to a group of people who arrogantly whaled
for his attention. His worn down sandals and sun-died hat
taking another beating in the vicarious heat, still never
once did I ever hear that young man complain. It is times like this I
think back to the amount of people that I know who spend
the majority of their life complaining about things they
do not have and where they would rather be, then you come
across people like Mohessin and in all their simplicity
they are portraying the most profound lesson of all,
happiness comes from learning to be content with the less
not the more.
I slipped into a gentle sleep on the beach,
the sound of those infant waves aiding me to find a state
of semi consciousness. I recollected memories of
childhood and invoked visions of the future, song lyrics
with random melodies and the various anecdotes of past
philosophers and authors that seem to linger around the
hallways of my mind like unemployed men, just waiting for
something to happen. I often wonder if
these great thinkers and writers ever found what they
were looking for at the end of their lives, the devotion
of endless time and energy yet nobody got to ask them if
at the end it was all worth it. I assume they would have
somehow documented their private reflections in the hours
of dying, the bleakness of all their truths captured in
the evanescence of their worn out spirit. What
do we do then, do we just say this is life get busy
living and make the most out of it or do we stop to think
for a while about what it is we are actually doing and
where we want to go? I think most people will be quick to
take the first option, which may explain the misery and
restlessness that seem to burden the souls of every man
and women living in this place. I sat up and looked
around, what I have come to realize is that we need to
give everything a meaning or a value in order to make
sense of it, if we don’t things just seem to fade.
If something is regarded as being worthless
we discard it. Even the most expensive and high
performance car once written off will be scraped and
destroyed, yet prior to its evaluation it was regarded as
one of life’s great perks to which many of us would place
superior value. Maybe we are the same,
the moment we begin to lose the value of our own life we
begin to neglect it and ultimately discard its value and
importance, acts such as suicide, murder, drug abuse,
eating disorders, addictions and all other forms of self
destruction and recklessness are examples of lost meaning
and value. I remember a line from the film Last King of
Scotland when Idi Amin asks James McAvoy’s character if
he his scared of dying to which he replies “yes, if
you’re scared of dying it must mean you have a life worth
living”. Nietzsche suggests that “he who has a strong enough
why can bear almost anyhow”. I figure some people
just chose to suffer without ever looking for a solid and
substantial meaning to their lives and a way to end the
suffering or even make it that little bit more easier to
bear.
I left the beach and went home to shower and
get some food. I thought about my friends and family
during the walk back, part of me wants to share this
experience with them and the other part of me thinks they
will never understand or better still they don’t want to
understand, it is easier to just do than to understand
what it is you are actually doing. They are products of
the system as am I, but I am tunneling my way out,
equipped with nothing but a rusty spoon and a sharp mind
I’ll dig through the compounds of this prison, and at the
end I will bask in the light, then I will come alive.
Still as I unravel more of the universal truths of life I
will do my best to communicate my message to those who I
hold close to me and who I feel will appreciate my
findings. I would add here a reference to Ralph Waldo
Emerson’s quote on success but I can’t remember the whole
thing off by heart, so ill just note it
instead.
Tonight I just sat mainly on a bench and
looked out to sea. Thoughts were my main companion. I
tuned into my emotions and thought back to what Buddha
said after reaching enlightenment that “no state is
permanent”. This is not just for physical moments but
emotions too. As we experience different emotions we need
to be aware that they will pass, so we must learn to let
them and not think that we are going to be in this state
forever. When I think back to painful moments of my past
such as saying farewell to someone I love and having to
watch my father break down and cry, the emotions I felt
then have since subsided from being almost soul crushing
to what now seems to be a lull of everlasting compassion
for those I lost.
I will never weep as I did when they lowered
my grandfather’s coffin down into a hole, but that does
not mean I don’t feel an element of pathos for his
memory, the emotion has not receded in anyway it has
simply changed its form. Some will
dissolve into nothing depending on their relevance and
their impact, others will take a more residential seat
either way nothing is ever absolute. Never make
anything permanent; even a scar will change its form over
the years.
Its 3.12am; it’s getting hard to write and
think now so I will call it a day before I begin to make
no sense at all.
Day 4:
This is my final full day in Cyprus. It is a
Friday. As usual I will go to the beach and bathe amongst
the rest of those semi naked loungers. Why do people sun bathe
anyway? It is not really any good for your skin, it is
hot which makes people actually more irritated and the
sea is full of oil and debris from nearby tankers, yet I
have never seem a calmer and more relaxed bunch of
people. Amazing what the
mind can do. I saw Mohssein again, he bought me over a
cup of water and said it’s free, he refused to take my
money. I spent the majority of the day beneath an
umbrella but I couldn’t help looking at the way Mohssein
went about his day. The man was calm and tranquil; his
job was as much physically enduring as it was mentally,
he dealt with the impoliteness and arrogance with such
sophistication and control it amazed me. Never in my life
had I seen a proud young man maintain such composure, it
was truly remarkable. I could hear the
conversations amongst the local Cypriots. Call that black
kid they would say. Oi Blacky, where is that little black
kid? What
was truly astonishing was that Mohssein wasn’t actually
black; in fact he was the same color as most Cypriots and
probably shared the same historical make up as this
mongrel race. Ignorance is a clever master.
Tonight I have asked Mohssein if he would
like to get something to eat before I leave for my flight
tomorrow morning. His vibe is different today; he seems a
lot more subdued. Maybe he’s got a lot on his
mind. I left
the beach and went home to take a shower and freshen up.
I met Mohssein in the recreational yard at
9pm.
He was wearing a white shirt with dark blue jeans. He
must have had a clean shave, as his face was fresh and
shiny. He greeted me with a hug and in his broken English
suggested that he liked my hat. We walked for a while
along the shore and he told me stories laced in
nostalgia. His eyes seemed to travel to a far away place
as he relived tales of poverty, depression and love. He
told me about his ex girlfriend who cheated on him, he
told me about his father working two jobs trying to
provide for him and his seven siblings.
His mother worked as a cleaner for the rich,
it paid little but he says there was a lot of love from
her. We all helped out when we could and if anything
poverty taught us to value each other, something he says
that is missing from the lives of many rich and
successful people. He told me that when he first came to
Cyprus no one would offer him a place to stay because he
was foreign. They were scared he would cause trouble. He
mentioned that he was staying in a hotel in Limassol but
when they found out he was Moroccan they told him he had
to leave. He then moved into a hostel where after a week
he was robbed and beaten by a group of Russian boys. He
met a middle aged man who offered him a place to sleep
and a room for a small amount of rent which he said he
could afford at the time, but after a few days he said
the man tried to make sexual advances on him, they got
into a physical fight and Mohessin found himself sleeping
rough on the streets for several weeks till he saved up
enough money to rent a place of his own.
We walked on a bit and he asked me about
London, questions like what does it smell like and what’s
the weather like? I told him he was much
better off staying here, but he said that it was his
dream to come to London and work. It reminded me of the
immigrants going over to the USA at the turn of the
centaury. They must have had the same high hopes and
ambitions as my Moroccan friend, however as always things
are never as golden as they seem to be in ones in
head.
We found a quite little taverna and ordered
our meal. We ate looking out into the sea. The traffic
passing us by, the waves gently breaking, the midnight
heat still present, everything was in order. We finished
our meals and I told Mohessin that I would pay as it was
our last night and that he had been more than kind to me
on the beach. He refused saying that I was the visitor
meaning it was his job to pay for the meal. I gave him
half the amount anyway and we left the
taverna. The night was
getting on and I knew that I had to get up early to catch
my flight back home the next day. I promised Mohessin
that we would stay in touch and I would make some
enquires about what he needed to do to apply for a visa
to come and live in London. Once again he mentioned my
cap, he said they don’t sell such nice clothes out here
in Cyprus. I
took it off and flung it on his head, “looks better on
you than it does me my man” I said. His face lit up and
this beam of confidence came racing through. He was a new
man, he had a look about him now a purpose of some sort,
he was not just Mohessin the beach boy he was Mohessin
the cool Moroccan. At that moment a wave of emotion hit
me, I thought to myself I would probably never see this
guy again. It’s almost like we just made a cameo role in
each others lives bringing with us a hidden lesson, a
reason for this brief appearance. As he thanked me
endlessly for the hat he took off this little money
holder he had wrapped around him. A tiny little pouch
made from light brown leather with green, white and red
cotton stitching going around it. He said he’d had it
since he left home but wanted me to take it. I told him I
couldn’t take such a sentimental item, he responded with
"you’re not taking it Anthony, I’m giving it to you". I
hugged him and we shook hands. I told him that whatever
he does in life make sure he stays good and stays brave.
I said that’s all you need. Oh yes, and don’t over do
it. As I
left I remember him saying
“Anthony, you were the best man I met here
in Cyprus, you a good man, not many like you treat me so
good, thank you I will not forget you”
I wished him the best and off I went back
into the land of concrete and miserable weather, complex
ambitions entwined with a life that demands an
extraordinary price and in return gives you nothing but a
receipt of anxious uncertainty.
|