Stimuli

in memory of Choon Yang. may he rest in peace.

when i got back from his funeral, i was rather sweaty. i accessed my laptop to check various things. blog updates, e-mails, and so on.

it was soon when i decided to take a bath. granted the water in my apartment is always cold, since we do not have a water heater. but today, it seemed almost inviting to shiver in its cold wake.

after i have finished cleaning myself, i continued letting the water pour onto me. it was a curious sensation. by now, my body had already adapted and stopped shivering. i raised my head to feel the droplets on my face. i faced downward to let it hit the back of my head and slide down my spine. it was a very curious sensation.

each water droplet felt like it has its own identity. they all came from the same source. but when they dispersed and hit my body one by one, it felt as though each of them had a story to tell me. and yet, after they had made contact, they slide down my body and flow away. they had become one again.

the water droplets were amazingly cool. their temperature much lower than humans. they absorb my body heat the moment they made contact. they continue to absorb as they slide downwards. such small things. and yet, they can cool and clean my body.

as i turn off the shower, the remaining droplets slide down. going about their way.

after i had slipped into some attire, i head toward the balcony of my apartment. the wind hits my body. they seem to come in waves. sometimes strong, sometimes mild. the feeling of it brushing against my face seems almost addictive. it felt as though the most smoothest silk cloth is being brushed against my face while being pulled lightly backwards.

as i look into the purple sky where the yolk orange sun was setting behind a building, i felt almost like i was flying.

i walk back to my room. as i did so, i let my hand touch the walls on the way. as i slide my hand along the wall leading to my room, it felt as though an explosion of emotion had surfaced. the surface was not smooth. and yet, somehow, it seemed so perfect. the feeling of such random dried up patterns, with no rational arrangement whatsoever, and yet, somehow, it feels so in place, so perfect.

i sit in front of my laptop to start typing, i felt a curiousness in each keystroke. each key seems to have a different texture. different enough to know its not the same. and yet, so similar its hard to what is different. some keys felt smoother. others felt rough, having a grainy texture, as if the finest sand were upon it.

i decided to take a sip from my tumbler. the feeling of the tumbler touching my mouth was amazing. it felt like the wall, only more refined, less chaotic. it was smoother. as i began to swallow the water, it felt as though it was trying its best not to break apart. as if it wanted to be swallowed as a whole.

in less than an hour, i have taken notice of stimuli i often do not bother to think about. the touch of a breeze, the texture of wood, metal, even water. how often do you do this?

if i were to tell you that you had only 48 left to live, would you do what i had just done? the prospect of dying gives us the jolt we need to appreciate life. to appreciate the things around that can be humanly perceived. you would see things differently, smell air differently.

why is it that we must face death in order to realize that we have only one life to live?