Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Eyes Hopefully Open

Having had more than enough time to think about this weblogish endeavour, as is evident in my rather late introduction, I have finally come to terms with its premises. Even though objective writing in this context is an oxymoron – since creative writing is, by nature, very subjective – that is not what we are striving for. We are trying to achieve a vision characterized by empathy and broadness of scope, a vision that can help us constantly be in the mode of learning from everyone and everything. Humility, observance, and understanding are the values we try to practice in everyday life during this project. That is the main part. The experiences we gain from these practices are then shared through Borrowed Eyes. The formal constraints we put on our posts are merely reflective of the contents of this challenge.
For me, this blog is the result of a belief in individuality. It is based upon the notion that each of us contains a piece of the truth and therefore deserves -needs- to be understood. This view of individuality seems to be so inclusive that is not only attributed to every person, but also to every tree, bird, and pebble. Although the personification of inanimate objects may be attributed to the writer’s imagination rather than the understanding of any objective reality, what is important in this project is the formation of that imagination. As long as it is grounded in open-mindedness, it is most welcome.
Observance is key. If you miss all that is essential, well, too bad. Perspectives are the most essential. But I am not always a very observant person; I recently made one of my nails almost entirely black by slamming a door on my own fingers. Gentle wake-up call?
Zzzz.

Monday, October 3, 2011

People Like Him.

"Good day," he calls out to passersby in the streets. Just like they would in the old-fashioned black and white movies.

Some people smile and wave.

"How ya doin', miss?"

Some people give an acknowledging nod.

"God bless you, sir."

Some people walk on.

"Beautiful sunshine we got today."

Some people take him to be a typical, friendly homeless man.

"Take care, ma'am."

Some people think he's trying to pick up girls.

He is not at all vulgar. He's dressed cleanly, casually leaning against a low stone wall. He looks like the kind of guy who would whistle down the streets with his hands in his pockets.

He doesn't care what they think.

He looks into the quiet little town, and sees only what he understands.

Not fathers or mothers or students or children or doctors or lawyers or store-owners or janitors...

Just people.

People like him. 

People that he wants to meet and get to know.

People that make him smile and feel happier.

People that care too often only about rushing to and from here and there.

Too preoccupied, too busy to see the beauty around them.

He's not looking for anything.

Not for love or money or sex or recognition or gratitude.

Companionship, maybe.

Just another person like him.

Yet, even on a beautiful cloudless Saturday afternoon...

When people have the time to walk a little more slowly, or stroll about a little more easily, or breathe in a little more deeply...

No one stops to have a conversation with him.

Not a single person.

"Have a good day now."