The Dance of Shiva
This was a free story writting assignment I did for english that I finished a few days ago. I enjoy posting my writting here so well here you go, its called "the Dance of Shiva"
A leaf fell from the tree that shaded her quiet sit. Change was something that never seemed to take an effect on her. Leaves would fall, winter’s first frost would come, but still would she sit under that tree that was like a mother to her. She sat as if she was only another part of the nature that surrounded her, just another blossom adding to the beauty of the park. A boy would often pass her by in mockery, laughing at something which he longed for deep inside his soul.
They had not spoken a word to each other until one afternoon towards the end of winter. He was walking at a fast pace, eager to get home. The girl had just sat down on the soft blanket of snow and had not yet begun to meditate when he passed through the park. “Hello,” she said in a smooth, soft voice. He had the intention of walking right by her, but felt a need to reply, “Hey” he said. “You must be freezing your ass off sitting there in the snow.” “I enjoy sitting here.” she smiled, “especially in winter.” The boy nodded with embarrassment and went on his way.
The girl seemed so odd to him, but yet his interest in her ways grew with every step that he took. His mind then began to go wild with questions: Why does she seem so happy every day when I walk by her? Why am I so unhappy? All she does is sit and yet she seems so content. I sit. I sit every day for Christ’s sake. I fucking hate people like that. How can you be that happy all time? As these thoughts started to build in his mind he became more and more troubled. He tried to clear his mind for a second but he couldn't. It was as if there was too much dust on a floor for a single broom to clean up. Soon the depression of his own life made him forget what he was doing, where he was going. As he trudged along through the woodland part of the park his misery had made him blind, and he tripped over a small log and fell face first, his nose hitting another log in front of him. “Son of a bitch!” words came out of his mouth in rage towards the woods. A dark crimson liquid dripped out of his nostrils and onto the pure white snow, making a temporary stain. The boy was so full of anger that he could not even bring himself to get up, he just lay there in the snow looking up at the towering trees that were like disapproving parents scolding in silence. But as he looked up, he noticed something that he had never seen before on this path of the woods, even though he took it every day on his way home from high school. There was a small cluster of light pink flowers, wet with melted snow, right beside the tallest tree. They must have been early bloomers, a very rare thing. All in that moment he had forgotten about his misery and the blood that continued to drip. The trees now no longer looked like scolding parents, but like wise elderly women, smiling their wrinkled smiles. The experience that day in the woods changed the boy’s walk home. His mockery toward the girl had ceased, and was replaced by a curiosity that itched worse each day.
The earth had now brought the gift of spring. Grass moved back and forth with the wind, just as breath is breathed in and out of the lungs. Blossoms had bloomed on the thick winding branches of the old tree where the mysterious girl would sit. The boy was now a little more courageous, and decided to approach the girl once more on his way home.
As he walked out into the open field the girl sitting under that familiar tree was the first thing that caught his eye. The boy approached her, and seeing that she was in deep meditation, he sat down in front of her so that he would not disturb her. He began to gaze at her closely, and he noticed a simple beauty in her that he had never noticed before. Her pale face was serene, the stillness in her body possessed a certain grace and elegance that was unknown to him. Her long black hair complemented her white face, balancing her attributes.
Feeling the presence of the boy, the girl slowly opened her eyes and met them with the boys. “Hello,” she said. The boy replied nervously “I’m sorry I was just umm,” The girl cut him off “It’s fine.” “We talked this past winter on my way home from school one time.” the boy said. “I never really asked you what your name is.” “My name is Meng” the girl said. “Oh, my name is Sid. Why do you sit here every afternoon?” The girl seemed pleased with the boy’s question. “Every afternoon I come here for one thing: peace.” Meng answered. The boy was quick to reply “I have peace. I don’t think you really need to meditate for that. When I’m hangin' with my friends and stuff I have peace.”
The girl answered him with wisdom “Peace is something that can only be found by looking inside one’s self, not to the outside world. I see you, and I can sense that you have burdened yourself with the stresses of life concerning yourself with the future too much. If one can learn to become still, and empty, then life will begin to take on a flow, and time will seem like it does not exist.” the boy did not believe the girl’s words, and so he then said he had to go and went on his way.
Night had now fallen, and Sid lay awake in bed, his mind teeming with thoughts. He was reflecting on what he had said to the girl that day, “I have peace.” but Sid knew that this was barely the truth of his life. His friends were seekers of cheap thrills, introducing him to a life of marijuana and casual sex. He would often lose himself in these thrills, trying to get away from everything in life that brought him misery. With every puff of marijuana his breath became more difficult to relax, and with every encounter with girls, the joy of the dance of love began to lose its sacred meaning. His actions only cultivated his suffering, deepening his depression as he lost touch with any source of peace.
After school had ended the next day he was eager to talk to the Meng on his way home. As he walked through the woods he began to notice more things about it. Leaves rustled in the soft wind, a thin stream flowed to his left carrying pieces of bark and old plants along with it. The flow of life had taken on a new form. This was what the Hindus called the dance of Shiva, and Sid had realized it for the first time. He then came out of the woods and into the open field. He then walked towards that familiar tree, but Meng was gone. How could this be? he thought. She is here everyday! Sorrow had now entered his heart, but it was unlike any sorrow that he had felt before, this was sorrow out of love. As he wept the tree was looking down on him smiling, as if it had been waiting for him to come for a long time. Sid then looked up at the tree, and sat down under its long branches in the same spot where Meng would sit. He closed his eyes and succumbed to his emptiness, just another blossom adding to the beauty of the park.
A leaf fell from the tree that shaded her quiet sit. Change was something that never seemed to take an effect on her. Leaves would fall, winter’s first frost would come, but still would she sit under that tree that was like a mother to her. She sat as if she was only another part of the nature that surrounded her, just another blossom adding to the beauty of the park. A boy would often pass her by in mockery, laughing at something which he longed for deep inside his soul.
They had not spoken a word to each other until one afternoon towards the end of winter. He was walking at a fast pace, eager to get home. The girl had just sat down on the soft blanket of snow and had not yet begun to meditate when he passed through the park. “Hello,” she said in a smooth, soft voice. He had the intention of walking right by her, but felt a need to reply, “Hey” he said. “You must be freezing your ass off sitting there in the snow.” “I enjoy sitting here.” she smiled, “especially in winter.” The boy nodded with embarrassment and went on his way.
The girl seemed so odd to him, but yet his interest in her ways grew with every step that he took. His mind then began to go wild with questions: Why does she seem so happy every day when I walk by her? Why am I so unhappy? All she does is sit and yet she seems so content. I sit. I sit every day for Christ’s sake. I fucking hate people like that. How can you be that happy all time? As these thoughts started to build in his mind he became more and more troubled. He tried to clear his mind for a second but he couldn't. It was as if there was too much dust on a floor for a single broom to clean up. Soon the depression of his own life made him forget what he was doing, where he was going. As he trudged along through the woodland part of the park his misery had made him blind, and he tripped over a small log and fell face first, his nose hitting another log in front of him. “Son of a bitch!” words came out of his mouth in rage towards the woods. A dark crimson liquid dripped out of his nostrils and onto the pure white snow, making a temporary stain. The boy was so full of anger that he could not even bring himself to get up, he just lay there in the snow looking up at the towering trees that were like disapproving parents scolding in silence. But as he looked up, he noticed something that he had never seen before on this path of the woods, even though he took it every day on his way home from high school. There was a small cluster of light pink flowers, wet with melted snow, right beside the tallest tree. They must have been early bloomers, a very rare thing. All in that moment he had forgotten about his misery and the blood that continued to drip. The trees now no longer looked like scolding parents, but like wise elderly women, smiling their wrinkled smiles. The experience that day in the woods changed the boy’s walk home. His mockery toward the girl had ceased, and was replaced by a curiosity that itched worse each day.
The earth had now brought the gift of spring. Grass moved back and forth with the wind, just as breath is breathed in and out of the lungs. Blossoms had bloomed on the thick winding branches of the old tree where the mysterious girl would sit. The boy was now a little more courageous, and decided to approach the girl once more on his way home.
As he walked out into the open field the girl sitting under that familiar tree was the first thing that caught his eye. The boy approached her, and seeing that she was in deep meditation, he sat down in front of her so that he would not disturb her. He began to gaze at her closely, and he noticed a simple beauty in her that he had never noticed before. Her pale face was serene, the stillness in her body possessed a certain grace and elegance that was unknown to him. Her long black hair complemented her white face, balancing her attributes.
Feeling the presence of the boy, the girl slowly opened her eyes and met them with the boys. “Hello,” she said. The boy replied nervously “I’m sorry I was just umm,” The girl cut him off “It’s fine.” “We talked this past winter on my way home from school one time.” the boy said. “I never really asked you what your name is.” “My name is Meng” the girl said. “Oh, my name is Sid. Why do you sit here every afternoon?” The girl seemed pleased with the boy’s question. “Every afternoon I come here for one thing: peace.” Meng answered. The boy was quick to reply “I have peace. I don’t think you really need to meditate for that. When I’m hangin' with my friends and stuff I have peace.”
The girl answered him with wisdom “Peace is something that can only be found by looking inside one’s self, not to the outside world. I see you, and I can sense that you have burdened yourself with the stresses of life concerning yourself with the future too much. If one can learn to become still, and empty, then life will begin to take on a flow, and time will seem like it does not exist.” the boy did not believe the girl’s words, and so he then said he had to go and went on his way.
Night had now fallen, and Sid lay awake in bed, his mind teeming with thoughts. He was reflecting on what he had said to the girl that day, “I have peace.” but Sid knew that this was barely the truth of his life. His friends were seekers of cheap thrills, introducing him to a life of marijuana and casual sex. He would often lose himself in these thrills, trying to get away from everything in life that brought him misery. With every puff of marijuana his breath became more difficult to relax, and with every encounter with girls, the joy of the dance of love began to lose its sacred meaning. His actions only cultivated his suffering, deepening his depression as he lost touch with any source of peace.
After school had ended the next day he was eager to talk to the Meng on his way home. As he walked through the woods he began to notice more things about it. Leaves rustled in the soft wind, a thin stream flowed to his left carrying pieces of bark and old plants along with it. The flow of life had taken on a new form. This was what the Hindus called the dance of Shiva, and Sid had realized it for the first time. He then came out of the woods and into the open field. He then walked towards that familiar tree, but Meng was gone. How could this be? he thought. She is here everyday! Sorrow had now entered his heart, but it was unlike any sorrow that he had felt before, this was sorrow out of love. As he wept the tree was looking down on him smiling, as if it had been waiting for him to come for a long time. Sid then looked up at the tree, and sat down under its long branches in the same spot where Meng would sit. He closed his eyes and succumbed to his emptiness, just another blossom adding to the beauty of the park.