Naivety

We are children. Breaking into a jig when the favourite tune starts playing. Breaking into a smile when a favourite person stands right in front of you. Breaking into a blush when the person is your most favourite. We are children throughout, laughing with all abandon, crying with all abandon. Nothing changes, and we take in the world, one moment at a time, through our large keen eyes.

People come and go, like experiences and plots in a storyline, leaving you elated and devastated at the same time. A delightful lady had once effectively phrased out what it feels like being stretched thin at an emotional level. “Heart rushing towards the sunrise, and the furthest depths of the ocean, at the same time.” You imagine the future and do all the things you can. You lay bare spreadeagled on the bed, vulnerable by body and mind, trusting the compatible presence.

There are conversations around things you agree on and then some you do not. You work with inspiring minds, sharing a rare partnership and investing precious years into a project that builds lives – yours and theirs and everyone’s around. You put yourself out there amidst people and souls, lending to their identity and borrowing theirs for your script, becoming an integral part of the song that plays across the wild winds, the song of this time.

We stay naive on our existence. Tender and believing in the love that flows around, we fall for a welcoming grin and the fragrant warmth on a summer evening. That shy giggle and bright eyes, as you share food. The sheer loveable royalty of a lioness. It is effortless, and beautiful as you fall in love again, and again, without a justification and without a rule book. It ceases to be about people and what you have been through. There is nothing to receive, only everything to give. It is a welcome to all the goodness and generosity life has to offer.

We are resilient by nature. The little ups and downs on this roller coaster are magnified, and their impact on the magnificence of our being is overestimated. We mistakenly fall prey to the dents that instead add to our beauty, and only realise it a few years later once we come out strong. The dents and the bruises make us what we are – someone who has lived and thrived in this deliciously wet fantasy. Bite into the richness of food. Hold a woman the way she deserves to be held and look deep into her eyes. She will give it right back to you. Jump into the grass and roll down the slope. Yell your heart out loud into the valley, kiss the rain, make love beneath the skies.

We stay naive throughout our lives, taking ourselves too seriously. We are a log of wood in an unending river – do we hold on to the shrubs by the bank, or flow where the current takes us? Should we crave for the tiny stream and the control it offers, or should we become one with the gushing force and be everything we can dream to be?

first published on Frankaffe