Music of the Mind

Thoughts flow endlessly like the sounds, like the clouds on a bluish sky, like the autumn leaves thrown around by the cold breeze…

He was sat in the park reading yet another book. There were but a few activities as satisfying to his heart as reading or writing. Feeling the breeze of those late summer days caressing his naked back, he shivered lightly. It wasn’t a shiver of cold, nor was it one caused by a sudden emotional revelation. It was but a shiver of a body recognising the shifting seasons of the year, a shiver of change. Upon noticing his bodily reaction, the boy stopped the mental activity of deciphering the phrases on the page and looked up at the bluish sky. The sun was visible just above the nearby trees. It was an afternoon already, so expecting the warm giant to be anywhere higher on the horizon would be a futile consideration. Gazing at the sky, he noticed the few reckless clouds, rushing across the blue space, as if they participated in a race with a price to win. The boy pondered on the speed, with which those white mists of liquid chased one another. His conclusion was simple – the wind up there must have been a heavy one. Aware of the thought, he suddenly caught a glimpse of self-reflection. He became aware of the thought process. But the moment this revelation arrived he was already carried away with a following ‘recognition of the recognition’ kind of thought. This unstoppable chase got the boy entangled in the knot of past vs. present thinking, but as he quickly recounted the few sources of wisdom regarding the mind’s abilities, he recognised the thoughts to be only an expression of the present, which would momentarily fall off into the past. Thoughts are experienced in the present but considered in the past, he concluded.

*

With his mind boggled by the simple reflection upon the complex experience, he forgot all about the book he was devouring just a few moments ago. He was staring at the sky, yet he did not see. He could hear the city around him, yet he did not listen. He could feel the breeze, with its ‘autumn-inviting’ freshness, yet he was not conscious of these sensations. He was focused on the thoughts, hence becoming their expression. What we focus on expands within the frame of our experiential presence, a thought pounced on his mind’s attention, where our awareness is, there we are…

*

This brief glimpse of a certain focal point manifested itself to the boy unexpectedly. He took a breath in and realised he was breathing, he noticed another cloud and realised he was looking, he heard a piano playing and realised he was listening, he felt the shiver again and realised he was living. Sitting there, on the side of the park’s path, he was a little shaken. He was shaken by the imminent experience of life, which so briefly was present before it would become the past only to be substituted with another experiential presence. His ears appreciated the pianist’s efforts, which caused his awareness to turn towards the artist. Scanning the surrounding area, the boy spotted the street performer. The man was sat by an old, hand-crafted piano, one that could be found in the saloons often promoted in the Western, cowboy-focused movies. It was definitely a unique piano. Leaving the thought consideration for a moment, the boy silently turned his body towards the sound and allowed the notes to flow through his senses, while his eyes closed softly. The music was non-invasive, subtle yet stern, confident but humble. It was beautiful. The rhythm of the notes sent into space around the instrument tickled the hearts of the bystanders, pedestrians, and local vendors. It was as if for a moment the whole square fell quiet focusing all its attention on the performer. Like a flowing river, the boy thought, like a flowing river of sound…

*

Surprised by the thought, he once again came back into his own mind. He was thinking of the thinking, which provoked more thinking regarding the thinking previously done. Like an endless cycle of repetition with minor shifts and adjustments, he was thinking through without a stop. Thoughts flow endlessly like the sounds, like the clouds on a bluish sky, like the autumn leaves frown around by the cold breeze, his mind came up with a poetic revelation causing itself to consider the rationale behind its essence. And like autumn leaves or the notes already played, he concluded, the moment they are recognised their time to depart comes… They are all journeying into the past once noticed in the present…

*

The music continued, the clouds rushed without a stop, and the leaves kept falling off the tired trees. The boy sat there enchanted by the composed rhythmical performance, while his thoughts danced around his whole-hearted experience. He was present.

Check out my book on Amazon:

(Un)usual Stories: An uncommon perspective of ordinary life. eBook : Salski, Wojciech, Druszcz, Katarzyna: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

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