There’s a rock, down in Kajiado, Olepolos Country Club.
It stands in the midst of many other rocks.
But this rock is different. Special, almost. It sits there so beautifully, unperturbed. No worries of what tomorrow will bring, or what yesterday did, it’s just a beautiful rock. Simple existence.
Love at first feel, if you may. I felt it when my feet landed on it, that flat, sun-burnt surface. There was so much feels in that one moment. Have you ever felt that before? Too many feelings at one go? You know what I mean, right? It’s delirious!
Sometimes i’m walking along Nairobi’s busy noisy streets, and thinking about the rock I left in the land of the Maasai. If it’s sharp smooth surfaces are being felt by other feet, or asses. I wonder if they feel what I felt. Or if it even has feels too. Does it wake up in the morning with feelings of failure and misery? Does it get happier in the course of the day when it has company? Did it enjoyed my feet’s company the way my feet and i did?
See, I have never felt so powerfully adequate before, for as far as I can recall, than that rock made me feel. I had this feeling of power overtake me, like I was ready to take over the goddamn world! – okay just mine, just my world. I even saw myself at a Coldplay’s concert with my hands In the air singing (shouting) along to Up & Up’s lyrics – in that vast empty space, so still and surreal, we were going to get it together. Somehow.
I thought about all the words and sentences I harbored in my mind, and how much they broke my heart when I poured them out to the fingers and they didn’t seem as beautiful as they did in the mind. Like watching your baby crumble up right in front of you. Words that were supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful, because you shaped them, toyed and twisted them, joined and laughed with them, and just as you let them out, they’re a ball of idiocy you’re so embarrassed to call your own. Such painful, unrequited love. Sigh. But you keep going back. Over & Over again. And never give up. And as I stared into that bespoke scenery, I hoped that someday I would fill all the empty spaces therein, and within with breathtakingly beautiful words.
Isn’t it funny how dreams get so wild? Scarily wild
I thought about God. And how much I miss Him. How He has been my unsteady failing rock, and how unsteady I have remained to be, failing myself, and Him, over and over again. A weak, unsteady, slave of the most High. I think about the days we were so close, the days when I prayed and I could almost feel His gentle strokes on my massive forehead. Now I pray, but it’s just like that scenery. Vast, empty atmosphere, yet with so much at the same time.
I thought about all that I wanted but couldn’t have because of all the excuses I had taught myself to believe. I thought about how confusing everything was, and if everything would just one day unfold itself slowly the way the atmosphere there looked, so neat and perfectly arranged, and if all the chaos would finally quiet down and become a beautiful breathtaking scene. If I’d one day be able to build something that someone else would stand on the rock and awe, awe at a beautiful masterpiece I was able to construct of my life.
All in a couple of breaths, and nothing has ever felt so refreshingly sad.