At first, the title of this blog was going to be “Morning does not help”; in fact, I had already written the introduction. It went like this: “As we leave our house and trip over the face of the sun (we usually represent the sun with a wide smile and happy eyes, with a flowing hair of radiant rays), we should fall in our knees and praise the light that illuminates our world. But we all have other things to do.” Something impeded me to continue. It’s just that I knew I would never conclude a blog that would contradict what I think. That one did.
Unexpectedly, I remembered a case that proves and illustrates how the morning can actually help. Lets go, then, to the story.
Imagine the inside of a train. Full of people. The day is neither ugly nor pretty: it has some sun, several clouds that cover it, and a sharp breeze. The travelers are all quiet; some read the newspapers, but most of them are immerse in their obscure and undefined thoughts. There is a lot of indifference in the atmosphere, and the sun, as it emerges, brightens a landscape of miserable faces.
Then, the youngest man of all travelers (but far from being a teenager), who is seated next to one of the train’s windows, starts to hum very lowly a vague song. He might have had no particular reasons to be happy, but at that time, the need to sing was irresistible. He is so absorbed in his happiness that does not care about his neighbor, who is offended and makes eloquent moves; those that replace the words when there is no courage to express them.
An old man is in front of the man who sings. Since he left his house, the old man goes chewing the many problems that haunt him. He is very old, and is dealing with a terrible sickness. He didn’t sleep well, and knows that a difficult day awaits him. Behind him, the voice of the young man continues to sing -“uuuuuuúúúuuuu”- very imprecise music notes, but stubbornly alive. The sun now hides. The ocean, that suddenly appears, is covered with islands of shadow. In the distance, the city is diluted in smoke and fog. It has an air of fatality and resignation, as a body that gave-up to life and is slowly fading out.
But the young man insists. It is not possible to identify who is singing anymore. However, the vague hum is now a sophisticated melody. This will, with no doubt, end with a loud shout of joy, and with anger and scandal from the travelers.
All of a sudden, the train stopped. It had arrived to its destiny. Everyone got out of their seats and approached the station with rush, pushing each other and forgetting from one another. The young man stands up with still a low hum. He starts walking with his music. Abruptly, someone grabs his arm. It was the old man, who about to burst in tears says: “Thank you, I came worried and sad, but when I heard you sing I felt a great peace. Along the way I prayed to god so that you could keep on singing. Thank you a lot”.
The young man smiled, first with awkwardness, and then as if he where the king of the world. They went through their own way, but with the music, which was now of both.
Lets enjoy what’s left of our summer; let’s appreciate our sun.
Unexpectedly, I remembered a case that proves and illustrates how the morning can actually help. Lets go, then, to the story.
Imagine the inside of a train. Full of people. The day is neither ugly nor pretty: it has some sun, several clouds that cover it, and a sharp breeze. The travelers are all quiet; some read the newspapers, but most of them are immerse in their obscure and undefined thoughts. There is a lot of indifference in the atmosphere, and the sun, as it emerges, brightens a landscape of miserable faces.
Then, the youngest man of all travelers (but far from being a teenager), who is seated next to one of the train’s windows, starts to hum very lowly a vague song. He might have had no particular reasons to be happy, but at that time, the need to sing was irresistible. He is so absorbed in his happiness that does not care about his neighbor, who is offended and makes eloquent moves; those that replace the words when there is no courage to express them.
An old man is in front of the man who sings. Since he left his house, the old man goes chewing the many problems that haunt him. He is very old, and is dealing with a terrible sickness. He didn’t sleep well, and knows that a difficult day awaits him. Behind him, the voice of the young man continues to sing -“uuuuuuúúúuuuu”- very imprecise music notes, but stubbornly alive. The sun now hides. The ocean, that suddenly appears, is covered with islands of shadow. In the distance, the city is diluted in smoke and fog. It has an air of fatality and resignation, as a body that gave-up to life and is slowly fading out.
But the young man insists. It is not possible to identify who is singing anymore. However, the vague hum is now a sophisticated melody. This will, with no doubt, end with a loud shout of joy, and with anger and scandal from the travelers.
All of a sudden, the train stopped. It had arrived to its destiny. Everyone got out of their seats and approached the station with rush, pushing each other and forgetting from one another. The young man stands up with still a low hum. He starts walking with his music. Abruptly, someone grabs his arm. It was the old man, who about to burst in tears says: “Thank you, I came worried and sad, but when I heard you sing I felt a great peace. Along the way I prayed to god so that you could keep on singing. Thank you a lot”.
The young man smiled, first with awkwardness, and then as if he where the king of the world. They went through their own way, but with the music, which was now of both.
Lets enjoy what’s left of our summer; let’s appreciate our sun.