20 Feb, 2009 - Please skip.

Please Skip.



These two words were attatched to a post-it note on my neighbour's door yesterday. They made me think rather deeply - a rare feat for any two little words.



However, completely unconnected, a friend of mine (who incidentally needed cheering up, and realised that I was in a similar boat) made a promise to skip with me down the main and most prominent street of our city. The two of us, arm in arm, indeed skipped down this hallowed road, right along the paths of the local Roman Catholic cathedral. I noted afterwards how this small act had made me feel; exhilarated, happy, joyful, delighted by the company of my dear friend. Yet it also felt naughty, that little word "sin" creeping back into my mind. I do not believe in sin, I loathe the concept, but I do indeed have a concept of it. If I were a child, no one would have thought twice about this small expression of joy. To skip is simply to move in a certain manner, rhythmically leaping towards the sky with a little bounce. Adults are not supposed to skip. We are supposed to be mature, dignified and collected individuals, balanced in our emotions and finances. We are supposed to have everything organised and categorised; even when we do not know, or understand, we are supposed to be grounded in some form. Public displays of emotion are viewed as something to be feared, perceived as weak, or both.



But I hope, one day, that we all will realise that rhythmically leaping towards the sky is a religious act in itself, and can become the joy of our whole lives. I hope to still be dancing towards the sky when I am white grey and very old.



So, today, place a post-it note, or send a message for someone else to find, telling them that reaching towards the sky like a child is a perfect way to spend one's time.





Please, skip.









*On a side note, I shall be away from internet until Monday, so no posting.*