Scutigera Coleoptrata (centipedes) are born with a few pairs of legs and as they mature with each molt they add more legs to their body and they become longer, bigger, and stronger. A fully matured centipede, well-aware of how to use its venom and has mastered the dance of hunter and prey, has 15 pairs of legs.They are also some of the most long-lived small-bodied creatures out there.
Do you sometimes feel like a minor miracle has happened somewhere on your previous timeline and it teleported you to another, much more interesting one? I wonder if others also see themselves and their lives that way; I have always felt like a book character to myself.
A few years ago I would have never envisioned my current life in my wildest dreams: pledging my twenties to work towards becoming an astrophysicist, travelling to many places I never thought I would be able to visit, and learning more than I ever thought there was to learn… A few years ago, I thought I’d be married by 24, I thought I’d probably study literature, or maybe engineering, and I thought I’d never leave my home city… That would have definitely been the case, had it not been for extremely tiny details of life, in which I found my cues to set foot into -and later run through- every new adventure life has presented to me. To be clear, I am not claiming to have achieved a lot, rather, I am speaking of fulfillment, and of the calling I have managed to find through utter chaos; the one with which my path has also become eye-openingly unpredictable.
Looking at my initial conditions at birth and even shortly after, it was impossible to tell that I would later take such unusual trajectories in life. I recall being ten and reading through several books from a childrens’ encyclopedia my Father has brought us. Said encyclopedia had a book for everything: celebrations, foods, music, art, animals from all over the world, and much more. I loved all of these books, but I definitely had a favorite one: It was not any of the books about life on Earth, but the one about the sky. I have read that one book over five times. I knew all of the photos and the numbers. Whenever I was bored, I would pick it up and look at photos of planets and nebulae -which were not half as clear or detailed as the ones we have today- and I read about things like other stars and galaxies. The idea of the world being so big made my small heart beat fast and my eyes glow with curiosity. Sure, I was previliged to have access to such a thing, and I realized it. Mind you, however, that this was all before I learned about the internet, which made that book my very personal, and only, astronomical treasure.
However, I have eventually stopped grabbing that book. I remember later studying some lessons in science classes about the different shapes of galaxies, the big bang, and the solar system. However, and as I grew older, everything has passed without me giving it much thought or ever thinking of looking back. To me, studying the universe for a living was such an absurd idea that I never even considered it or believed it was possible.
Much later, at some point that I cannot even remember, I decided that I wanted this and I was going to do it. And then, it was happening. To me, this has been the biggest example that life is in fact either predeterminate to the extent that impossible scenarios would take place just to go from one point to another and fulfill fate’s prophecy, or that we indeed have the freedom to choose what to be- whereas with such freedom absurdity reigns as well. The latter thought often makes me feel like I did a great thing; Like I came from an apple’s seed, but I could become a peach, or even a completely unrelated entity, like a bird or a butterfly… or an astrophysicist, just because I wanted to.
Speaking of butterflies, the entire idea of this piece of writing was either inspired by, or has reminded me of chaotic dynamical systems. A few years ago, I wrote my first code to solve a chaotic system: a three-body problem. I was extremely astonished by how sensitive to initial conditions the final trajectories of the particles were; The tiniest changes would lead to the most dramatic differences… I might often think that I have taken a very unpredictable path, however, I don’t think I can ever predict how things would have gone, had they been slightly different in the smallest of details.
My body, my exile; Five fingers are not mine. A pile of emotions, Of affliction low in quality; A serving of air That tastes like nullity.
No one wants the wind right at their windows, But the wind howls and whistles in my bones.
No one wants the thunder sounding in their ears, But the thunder runs and echoes on my skin.
Tumbleweed, or hay? Tumbleweed, is hair: Languishing in anguish.
Do you pine away from life, Or were you unwelcomed? Do you pine away from love, Or are you unlovable? Can you sing this little ode, Or did you lose your voice and language?
Can you dance, and run, and twirl, Or have you been betrayed?
My mind, my exile; Countless thoughts that are not mine. A stack of disordered, yet sensible disparity; A symphony of dissonance, Screaming into nullity.
◊Gratitude ◊ No verses can express My gratitude; I’m blessed. I hear the wind chanting My name, it sings my song Every night and every morning The angels are smiling At me. I see, I feel, I see.
-☀-
◊Saudade◊ Would the scent of warmth, Of love, and joyous growth, Cling to my sleeves? Worried someone burned My tall and hefty trees. Where has the lighthouse gone? Why did it have to break?
-☀-
◊Envy◊ Side by side, Sirius wants to be the Sun; Grand and warm, Close and familiar. The Sun wants to be Sirius; Glowing and bright, Breathtaking luminar.
-☀-
◊ Despise ◊ Red, is the sound of breaking; The flavor of heavy ash That will not float or dance; Fraudulent grandiosity; The stench of “unforgivable”. How can I even glance, Where my spirit has smouldered.
Volatile cloud. My lungs have floated up, up, through my head. Muted sound. Fragile frame, Stupendous palettes of ocean and sunset. But stone sinks in water, The ceiling is collapsing. I don’t have a language, to search for connection. I drown in my curses, unable to conjure a number of phrases. I’m losing, I’m losing The people, the places. I wish I was worth this. I can’t find the limbs, to seek out an exit. My hands and face have betrayed me, Eloping with my legs.
Pairs, of pairs and pairs; Wonderful symmetry, Filled with oddity. Onwards I March three steps at once. Three legs. Thirty legs. I am a centipede. In my shell I shield my miscarried child. It sobs, and grows, and shrinks. In my spine we’ll hide, until the bell sounds Its final ring.
Dropping from behind the moon. The air is still and washed out clean. It failed to make it Past The dying monsoon. In a circle, my minds will sit as The scents of Sun and orange blooms Dance within the atmosphere.
-☀-
◊Surprise ◊
Surging waves enlace my heart Submerge me in flavors Of grace and wonder. The unthinkable approaches me, And stares down my vessel; Chooses me, for joy or sorrow, Dare I say, I feel too special?
-☀-
◊Loneliness◊
Surrounded with noise, with arms, With eyes, yet not feeling known, Or seen; yet not hearing anything But my chanting bones. This melody of breakage, Of rattling with fear; An untold wish to disappear.
-☀-
◊Connectedness◊
Lighter than feathers, Brighter than this planet’s colors A palette of warm, and cold, And neutral; Painting perfection. A flock of eccentrics, with crowns of marigold, In whom I can see my own reflection.
Don’t you trust what you perceive; Have you not been here for long? I don’t know what to believe, For I have been since my birth. Attempting to find some answers, But my search left me forlorn; Stuck within an endless cycle.
-☀-
◊Worry◊
Haze arrived and settled here. Mosaics of radiant smears. I’ve built a wall to halt my mind; still, I circumambulate it. Give me back my certitude, And clear the way so I can breathe All these feathers out.
-☀-
◊Anticipation ◊
Did my eye just catch a twinkle? I will never tire of waiting For my stars to align. Watching every night till daybreak Unwilling to miss my sign. I know; I know it might not show Just yet, And yet, my heart lives on cloud nine.
-☀-
◊Ennui◊
Time is passing, But all the days, they look And feel the same. I’m craving wonder, A stir within these dead, still waters, A wave that ends this game; A bell that ends my leisure.
“Are the clouds of any flavor?” I no longer will have to wonder; For now, and onwards, I float in their embrace From place to place, and then another. The stars are at my fingertips Asking to be rearranged.
-☀-
◊ Sorrow ◊
Two hearts meeting Mine, and the earth’s. My ribcage full of marble stone; Sinking like a massive anchor. A dim pulsar that lost direction. My wings are burnt; My words have left.
-☀-
◊Anger ◊
White-hot embers Burning a hole through the heavens. Uncareful and ignorant; Creating boundless clouds of noise. Where did it go, my voice? Don’t say the demons used My negligence to steal it!
-☀-
◊ Fear ◊
A multitude of possiblities Overwhelm my racing heart. Sudden, tenacious debilities, Impeding my time and space. Language evaporates, into a cloud. I try to follow the path, still unerased; Futile attempts of mimicry.
-☀-
(Joy-related) A/N: J. M. Barrie, in his famous tale of a boy who never grows up, revealed that fairies never say “we feel happy”; what they say is “we feel dancey”. The drawing I chose for “joy” was an illustration for this story. I hope you feel dancey, now or very soon, dear reader.