Silent Observer: Written Ponder #1

I lay on my back and look up at the late afternoon sky – finally unwinding after a usual day in this hectic society of materialism, ethics, and schedules. The sun is setting and the moon is frowning. Just the end of another day worrying about study, friends, parties, and all the other shallow philosophies that go ‘tap-tap-tap’ like a typewriter in a typical teenager’s mind.1

I tilt my head upwards and my neck is almost painfully taut, and everything looks different.2

The moon is not a sliver of sadness anymore, but a happy grin, smiling brightly down at me. I feel like she is a friend, and that she would hear my most furtive whispers just as she would the loudest cry of a rocket landing on the surface of her textured face.3

The clouds accompany the end of the day, all half tainted pink and orange, and half grey. It looks as if God Himself got a fluffy stamp and pounded the sky with it. They resemble dozens of perfect rows of sheep, drifting past the world, so many of them melding together further on into a soft, smooth blanket following the sun.4

They drift past the moon, hiding her from me with their dense cotton bodies every now and then.5

The sky is so vast that it troubles me with its guise of eternity, while my knowledge insists that it is just a thin sheet of gas molecules coating the sphere we live on.6

I sometimes try to keep my feet on the ground, (after all, I have to in my science classes) but despite the gravity I find myself wandering the mysterious and astonishing realms of the metaphysical. When I combine my spirituality, curiosity, and academia, the result is usually a sense of wonder and appreciation of life.7

I feel so small, here under the immense universe, musing what goes on beyond the blue of the sky.8

I think of everything in the atmosphere – radiowaves, electromagnetic fields, transmission signals, ions, kinetic and static and various other energies – and am completely baffled at the concept of science. It sometimes makes sense, but when I look around, when I breathe the fresh country air, experience my environment, hear nothing but the crickets’ mating call and the occasional frog in the descent of the night, I feel like nothing can explain the beauty of nature.9

Out in the untouched corners of the Earth, knowledge and perception are two completely opposite polarities. On the one hand, there is what I’ve learnt, what I know, and what I’ve been taught is fact. On the other hand, there is what I see, hear, and feel. No amount of science or knowledge or philosophy can alter a human in such a way that they would not release adrenaline when frightened, or be cold when it’s 50 degrees celcius.10

I let myself slip into the pure embrace of nature’s hands and everything modern, industrial, and synthetic is buried under 12 feet of fertile soil. From that soil sprouts the blossom of my imagination, the majority of which is dominated by an acceptance of the world as it is – created perfectly, born and established into a balanced system that works without fault.11

It is such a shame that the equilibrium has shifted in favour of extreme industrialization.12

The moon, she smiles at me in the waning light and I can’t help but smile back, thinking of the miracle that is existence. The day fades as I make my observations. Perhaps I should say good night and go inside before these vicious summer mosquitoes devour me. Until tomorrow, sweet nature, I bid thee farewell. I await your next greeting.13