It is the rainy season, called monsoon, in the desert. There is something comforting in seeing the desert varicosed by flash streams, sometimes even rivers carving the sand into small ponds. And there is something unsettling to see the essence of a desert absorb all the fluid gifts from above in the space of a moment. And return to being a dry land where a few weeds will soon grow, yet disappear as fast as they appeared.
Perhaps that is the most
vivid image of “the moment”. That elusive passage that we all ignore while
charmed by the “tomorrow”. By the promises we hope for in the “next”.
Rather, we see the “moment”
as a means to the promised. And thus, we ignore our own passage as well by
leaving it empty of the joy we could have had.
… It is raining now and I am
degustating, perhaps as a hummingbird does with the nectar of desert flowers,
that “moment”. My senses are awake, alive and grateful for every rain drop’s
landing sound on dry stones and prickly cactus. For the “smell of the desert”
where fragrances of musk, sandalwood, patchouli and amber mix into an incense
to celebrate the rain.
Omar Khayyám, the 9th
century Persian philosopher, scientist and poet celebrated the moment in his
quatrains called Rubaiyat.
One of his famous lines is
both scientific and philosophical:
Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
This morning, my senses inebriated
by the fragrance of patchouli and sandalwood, I recalled one of Khayyám’s quatrains
that had influenced my adolescent soul years before I knew about the moment and
what happens next. Years before I put my lips upon the brim of life’s chalices
to learn the difference between bitter and soothing; about passion sometimes leading
to love; and about how unkept promises leave scars upon trusting hearts, and
make them untrusting.
Here is the quatrain:
To wisely live your life, you don't need to know much
Just remember two main rules for the beginning:
You better starve, than eat whatever
And better be alone, than with whomever.
… And it is raining upon the
desert.
August 19, 2022
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2022
PS/ I took this photo right
after last year’s monsoon. With water and sun, the desert becomes host to life
that had patiently remained dormant during the year. And that happens
overnight, and becomes the glorious moment.
The Horse lubber grasshopper appears after the rainy season and is my
favorite “decoration” of cacti as hundreds climb into a single cactus and, with
their vivid colours, light it up like a Christmas tree!
This photo is almost anthropomorphic
and may echo Omar Khayyám’s suggestions that even in the most harsh moment and
environment, being with the right grasshopper makes that moment cheerful and
kind….
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