~ Life in the clouds ~

There’s a legend of a bird that sings more beautifully than any other living being on Earth, only once in its lifetime. As soon as it leaves its nest, it starts looking for a thorn tree and doesn’t rest until it finds it. It crawls under its wild and intertwined branches and, while singing, it stabs its body at the longest and the sharpest thorn. While dying, its pain grows into a beautiful song, putting a nightingale song in shade. The price for that beautiful song is life, because the best things in life can be achieved only at the price of a great pain, at least, according to the legend. We dream of our towers since childhood, but the fulfillment of everything we carry inside us and the actual battles have to be fought there where destiny throws us, at some nameless space without glow and beauty, without witnesses and a judge. Life never gives us what it promises; it’s always more or less than that. We are dazzled by its vastness which we use for writing our stories without an eraser. On its stage we play badly assigned roles with no lines, without being able to choose whether to act in a tragedy or a comedy, whether to laugh or cry. It is said that wisdom lies in accepting life as it is and only sometimes dreaming of how it could be. But how to resist blue dreams and comfortable white clouds which are constantly calling us, raising our looks up to the sky? We’re lost somewhere between the ground and the blue sky, not knowing if we’re going up or down, until the crucial moments, those which make us choose, startle us. Some souls stay trapped forever within that invisible boundary and sail through life as straws float down the river; they don’t move, they are carried; they don’t know what they want and even less what they are able to do. The ones with a restless spirit are constantly flying up and down; while they are on the ground they watch the clouds and while they are in clouds they search for runways to land. They always indefatigably go in circles and they’re never bored. They meet various people in their lifetime: the ones in clouds, the ones on the ground and the trapped ones. There are those that are afraid of flying. They spend their entire life firmly bound to the ground. Out of great fear they never watch the clouds; they don’t even dream of them. They usually understand only the things they themselves have experienced; they can’t imagine something completely new and different. Some people express their strongest desires in just one word; the sparkle in their eyes leaves no-one indifferent. We feel that something important is happening. We watch them packing their suitcases and setting off in a one-way direction, towards the clouds. They are in search of themselves and their dreams somewhere high in the endlessness of the blue sky, being constantly turned towards the stars, without knowing that many of them ceased to exist a long time ago, that everything is only a game of light and time. And all of us, more or less, somewhere deep inside us, want the life in clouds without being aware that our entire happiness lies hidden in the events happening while climbing up towards the clouds. Each of us has experienced a terrible destiny and bitter inner struggles until we’ve realized the beauty of simplicity. The strangest thing of all is that only in the end do we get to know simple things.
Life in the clouds, author Suzana Stojanović, May 27, 2007