(2022/04/27)
Rain. Rain consumed the dark sky. The rain fell in waves and splattered against every possible surface. The dark of the night concealed the rain higher in the sky, as to make it appear to coalesce into existence, a couple feet above the lights. The city streets were sparse with people, bustling to their destinations, hunching under an umbrella to protect themselves from the torrent of rain.
There was only one exception to this commonality. That exception was the man, the man standing with no umbrella. He let the falling water soak his clothes, why? Who could know, he was a man with a mission. Maybe he was insane, maybe he was just motivated. The man walked slowly through the rain, such a stark contrast to the sheer speed everyone else was making an effort to achieve. Everyone else hoped to alleviate themselves from the burden of rain, this man wanted to experience it all. He wanted to live, to truly live. Even if it meant being uncomfortable. Maybe he was insane.
The man with a mission strode confidently but leisurely to a local shop. The rainbow of lights coming from the shop header painted a beautiful canvas in the rain. The reflection of the lights bounced to the road, where the water carried the light further to the distant walls of opposite buildings. The steadily flickering light emitting from the words cast an awe striking aura onto the mans soul. He could feel the beauty of the lights inside his very soul, his very existence.
Maybe he was not insane.
Maybe he was a man who wanted to feel the true power, beauty, and scale of the world, wherever he went.
Maybe he was a genius. Maybe he was a man who had reached a whole new level of existence, one that transcended natural human limitations. One that could find peace in any moment, every moment.
He was a man with a mission. He strolled to the open doors of the shop, he took a step up to the door frame. That single step was the only thing preventing the entire shop from being flooded. The man saw the beauty in that one step, he saw its purpose. He smiled at the step.
Maybe he was insane.
He walked into the shop. He left a puddle of water wherever he walked. The shopkeeper spoke to him, “looking for an umbrella?”.
“No.” The man spoke back, he smiled warmly to the shopkeeper. “I’m just looking around.”
“I can get you a towel if you want.” The shopkeeper suggested kindly.
“I am alright, but thank you.”
The mans leisurely walk continued throughout the shop. A jingle played in the speakers. It was quiet, but the emphasis was there. The man thought to himself that it provided a perfect contrast to the pounding of the rain. The sounds of the rain splattered, splashed, flooded, and crashed. But the sounds of the song were soothing, but while the rain was predictable and continuous, the song was not. It changed sounds, instruments, timing. It was beautiful. The man smiled. Joy filled him from his very heart.
He window-watched the items being sold. He saw toothbrushes, toilet paper, earphones, water bottles, notebooks, and so much more. He loved the products being sold. Why? He saw in them the meticulous effort and time that went into making them. That went into perfecting the objects. But more than that, he saw beauty in the function. A normal passerby would think nothing of the items, nothing at all. They would pass everything by and leave.
But the man was not like them.
The man had a mission. How long he had spent in that shop, the man did not know. Was it 1 minute, or 1 hour? The man did not care, to him it was if he had spent his time staring at the beauty of God’s creation. He did not buy anything, he had no use for any of them. He had everything he needed on him. Nothing.
The man was truly free, he had no burdens, he had nothing pulling his attention away. He was truly and fully present in everything he did.
He strolled towards the exit to the shop, he saw that there was another customer in the shop with him now. He smiled towards them. As he neared the door, the man turned to the shopkeeper and spoke.
“Have an amazing day.”
“You do the same.”
The man walked through the entryway and out into the pouring rain. Whatever sense of dry his clothes had achieved was immediately reversed as the water from the sky crashed upon him. But the man did not care.
Again, he walked leisurely through the rain, not a care in the world. A passerby glanced curiously at the man while he sprinted past. The man continued his carefree stroll. The man stared at the rain, it was beautiful, it was perfect, it was amazing. Words could not truly contain the joy the man felt as he looked at the rain.
Maybe he was insane, or maybe, just maybe, he was a genius.
The man stopped his walk. He looked at a rather spacious part of the sidewalk and sat down on it. He crossed his legs and leaned his back against a brick wall. He gawked at the falling rain. Taking in all of its beauty.
He sat there for a long time. He did not care that he was soaked with water. He did not care that people were staring at him. He did not care that people thought he was insane. For the man had something they didn’t. True happiness, not dependent upon his surroundings or circumstances. But rather a constant, perpetual happiness.
Was he a genius or was he insane?
Maybe he was both. Maybe to be a genius you have to be insane.
The man did not wonder about this. He knew he had a good life, he knew he made other peoples live’s better. So everything else did not matter. It did not matter as his hands began to numb. He was happy no matter the circumstance.
It did not matter when his body began to shiver with the cold of the rain.
He was happy.
It did not matter when the cold began to fade and his body went insensible.
He had his happiness and that was all that mattered.
It did not matter as the corners of his vision began to blur.
The joy in his heart was all that mattered.
It did not matter when his eyes began to droop with the fatigue of nature.
He was happy.
It did not matter as his heartbeat began to slow.
He was happy.
It did not matter as his vision began to tunnel.
He felt joy at the new experience.
It did not matter as his heart beat its last.
For his last was happier than other’s first.
