Today was one of those leisure days when you walk around the city streets with acute awareness of the beauty around you; with seasons changing and the first autumn leaves wondering whether it’s time to start falling. It was one of those days when the sun shines right into your eyes- not enough so you have to put on knitwear but way enough to warm up your soul. That kind of autumn sun that makes you anxious about the upcoming cozy nights in. So I decided to go to my parents’ place and pick up the guitar of my mom’s childhood. Last week I found a friend who’s willing to teach me the basics. So excited I went to collect it.
Rummaging for the musical instrument I also found an old yellow hula hoop- gathering dust in what used to be my room. The old guitar doesn’t have a bag so I had to walk the streets with it and the hula hoop both hung on my shoulder. I needed to buy something so went to a nearby corner shop. While I was on the alley choosing detergents totally out of nowhere a middle aged woman just ran up to me and started staring at my guitar. Her entire being was glued to my old instrument. Without even looking me in the eye she asks from which musical school I am and without hearing my answer takes the guitar off my shoulder and starts playing…
…
Several minutes of me floating in timeless space passed away. I was stunned. Nailed to the particular moment and place- right in the middle of the detergent isle. With a lady playing my never to be played guitar unless a special occasion (will talk about that more later). What she sang while playing was a popular Bulgarian love song. And when she started singing she looked up at me and held her gaze. Four eyes locked together. Can I even try to explain how I felt? Of course not! I can put words together but never be able to bring you to the stillness and vividness of the moment. So when she ended I couldn’t say a thing. Didn’t know how to bring myself to interact again. She made it easy for me. Concluded with some small talk on the strings, thanked me, and went away.
Walking up the street I couldn’t stop thinking how rare such moments are. How limited our every day communication with people is. How I am thinking how special a moment that was when I shouldn’t. Because it shouldn’t be special. It should be something we tipically do. Like a way of saying hi! Communicating but with no words. Staying in front of a person, completely aware of him/her without shedding a single word.
…Simply knowing. Aware. Present. Open…
Why have we become so detached from each other? Why has the strive for individual achievements has made us so self-centered on our own development we deprive not only others but ourselves from that bigger something?
I never stopped thinking I want all that for the world. I need all that. I don’t want such spontaneity to be so rare we write about it in books, blogs, and movies. This is how people should communicate. With openness and joy. And sharing their love for what touches their soul. No social pretense, no being locked into an isolated frame of mind. I cling with hope to the following quote. Hope for there are other people in the world feeling the same way as I do:
“-We are born alone, we die alone and while we are here we are completely sealed in our own bodies. It freaks me out to think about it. We can only experience the outside world through our own slant of perception of it. Who knowed what you are really like. I just see what I think you are like.”
“-I am exactly what I appear to be. If you look closely”
“-You know the only thing that has made the whole thing worth while has been those few times that I have been able to really, truly connect with another human being”. A Single Man
Thank you lady!

















