.

Philosophical cow dung on the life of little Ms. Imperfectly Fine.

Monday, February 27, 2006

The moment we were kings

We were in the car, checking out my songs through the laptop when Yat opened the file to Silverchair's Diorama lyrics. And what followed was us singing our heads off with the car windows down and everyone looking, but we were in a world of our own, we were kings inside Amir's little 'seaweed' green machine.

For the entire ride in Diorama, we knew that we were in our ideal universe, not a thought of our troubles crosssed our minds, nothing to stop us from having the time of our lives. We were just belting out songs in three different keys, which I must point out, was not an attempt to harmonize. We kept on singing one song after another, where across the night lies tuna in the brine, and after all these years, we finally had the greatest view.

It was amazing how music and song had a certain intoxicating effect but they didn't leave us feeling numb or drunk, instead collectively we felt great. It is even safe to say that we never felt that good for a long time. Spent and having our vocal cords stretched with loving ease, our hearts were full. We were complete.

But the feeling of euphoria lasted only up until we realized that the moment was gone. Although in our heads we could still hear the laughter in our voices, the sound of our joy was distant, like it didn't happen just five minutes ago, it slipped away. We became old when reality sank in, and our doubts, responsibilities, obligations and expectations seemed to ram their ugly heads to knock us flat to the ground. We were helpless, as much as we wanted to get up and get back to the moment, to seize the day and be spontaneous and free, we just couldn't.

Each of us, had something to hold us back. We knew that we could never have what we want all the time. We understood it and we accepted it and we let it be. Silence put a blanket over us, there was nothing we could say or do.

And suddenly we woke up and we talked about the moment when we sang with our souls, and somehow the happiness lingered. So, perhaps the memory of it is enough to sustain our spirits. By remembering the good times, we hold on to the idea of the next time when the ideal becomes real, and dreamers no longer need to close their eyes to the real world, because their dreams have become their reality.

Thanks, guys. For singing the words to our song.