Describe a place or environment where you are perfectly content. What do you do or experience there, and why is it meaningful to you?
I can sit there and stare at it for hours - sometimes watching, not watching others. "There" is a stair case of the 1st floor of a business center, and "it" is a view of the pavement outside through a 100 X 100cm window directly in front. To the open-minded, it is classically picturesque: cars in a myriad of colors passing by; a scantily clad teenager on the heels of the formally dressed businessman. To the idealist, it is a sneak peek of the onset of creation. More than this two dimensional scene, I imagine I see the infinite dimensions of life just the way the creator might see it. I call this place God's View.
I think of this window as a zoomed in picture of the world. I try to capture the central motif of the story we call life in a single pixel; I look for the pattern that connects. For a thinker, patterns are not made with shapes, colors or words, but by questions. How does the Earth's radius and gravitational orientation affect the whereabouts of Waldo? What does "6" think of the letter "c"? What defines a human experience? I try to placate my utterly discordant and ever wondering mind by letting my questions run rampant. I look for the answers within the stream of passersby and then simply stare at the people, too absorbed in their movements. The bedlam in my head merges with the bedlam of a rush hour. Maybe it's because I love chaos. I believe that there is an unconventional beauty in commotion. Isn't all clutter, after all, a higher degree of order? It's in clutter where my imagination resides. It's in the time of confusion when I ask the most important questions.
But some days I just play with numbers. I calculate the frequency with which people appear and disappear, guess their ages or try to construct a sequence out of the numbers. And some days I'm simply human. I laugh at God's cosmic jokes and take time to appreciate the ironies of my life. Take the instance of my name: "Bitya" directly translates to "daughter of God", whose existence I've doubted since I was nine. I am the class math geek who often miscalculates her taxi fare. I'm the hyperactive girl who moves too much; yet the girl seen sitting motionless for hours, lost in thought. I am head of student body and captain of the debate team; and I have the audacity to describe myself as slightly shy and reserved. Sometimes, I cry at misfortunes: a fight with my mother, fear of oblivion or a child I see through the window falling and hurting her knees. I curse my intense empathy, my capacity to feel more than the average person. Then I appreciate the beauty in poignancy. But most times, I simply think.
I've always thought myself an artist. But I don't paint and I'm not a poet: my thoughts are too vague to make a dent on canvas, and too elusive to be done justice by words. My art lies in contemplation. I love to think. Despite having many little piles of "to-do's" lying around, I still find time to experiment with my ideas. God's View is the perfect place - a window looking out that allows me to look in. Half the time, I'm found within the confinements of my head, contemplating and reflecting, and my addictive rumination does have its evils. Too often, I do neglect practical matters, and I've many a time been horribly frustrated at the 'dead-end' of an idea. But thinking gives me the only validation for my existence; "I think therefore I am". But maybe I don't exist, I only think I do. Maybe nothing is the way we think it, or maybe nothing is. But you know what? Subjectivity is proof of God's great kindness. I can still think about it.
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