Every Day And Every Year

Every Day And Every Year

Every morning I get up the bed. Every breakfast I eat some oatmeal with eggs. Every daytime I work on a novel. Every lunch I eat buckwheat with a stake and a salad. Every dinner I eat cottage cheese with a banana. Every summer I go to a vacation. Every autumn I collect a couple of leaves. Every winter I ride on a sledge. Every spring I walk in a rain, singing silly songs.

Every evening was similar, until I’ve met him. His name was Mirai. And he wasn’t like everyone who surrounded me. He wasn’t a typical person, walking on the street. He was like a vivid rainbow that you could see once in your whole life. His eyes were brown. He liked to wear vintage clothes. I remember when we went to the local second hand and he saw jeans from the first collection of the famous designer. They were immediately bought. But don’t worry, he wasn’t a slave of things at all. He was a child of the Earth. His muscular body expressed complete resemblance to the stone mountains of Las Vegas. The arms resembled the benches of the mystic tree. Eyebrows reminded the leaves of the magical forest. The blood that flowed through his veins was like a wonderful elixir of eternal wisdom. He was like a saint. 

We met at the park. I was walking in the city without a single aim. The stream of people was passing through me, creating the depressive atmosphere. I was furious. Swerving to the park where I could be on my own, I saw a man that was sitting on a grass, talking loudly to it. I thought that he was crazy. But, suddenly, his arm turned in my direction and showed the gesture of greeting. I was invited to sit next to him. Dirty city view appeared. In spite of the ugliness of the panorama, the eyes of the stranger looked as if he was looking at the clearest view. They seemed to be covered in a curtain of pleasant hallucinations. The mask fell off his face and the eyes of the colour of the Ténére tree looked closely into my face. 

‘अच्छा दिन! I am a flower of God, but friends call me Mirai’, he said, smiling. 

‘Hi, I’m Rory’, I said confused.

‘Want to try?’ the man suggested, pointing at the dirty city landscape. 

‘Try what?’ my lips uttered. 

‘Everything! Look at the view, close your eyes and you will see the Beauty’ the man mysteriously said, stroking a long beard.

I looked once again at the city. It was a grubby place with numerous homeless that were looking for a food at the trash cans. Huge glass buildings alternated with grim stalls, poisoning the whole town. The man glanced at me with a look of condemnation.

‘You are looking through the mask. Take it off and try to penetrate into this place, try to find the grain of knowledge in this forrest. It’s not so complicated as you think’, the man said.

‘Alright, I do my best’, I responded.

I tried to get to the deepest point of the understanding of this street. It wasn’t so easy as I thought, but I managed to do that. The trees began to float to the sides. All of a sudden, they turned into the water. I thought that I could see a Bible scene. The cars, the street, the ground started to fade away. I was in the heaven or maybe I had the strongest trip in my life, I don’t know, but the yogi was there. He was flying in this space like the bird in the sky. The past was swimming in the madness of the present. I saw myself as a child. I wasn’t a good kid: I had been naughty. I used to drink alcohol and take drugs, so that state wasn’t new to me. But something was different. My “buddy” saw it on my face and exclaimed:

‘You know, we couldn’t read the memories of the stars, but they could read ours!’.

It didn’t add clarity to this picture of misunderstanding. I was tangled up in the threads of the memories. I heard Jim Morrison’s voice. I loved listening to the Doors when I was thirteen.

‘This is the end’, flashed through my head.

‘No, that’s just the beginning. I will guide you to the depth of your mind’, the guy said, blinking slowly.

He kept his word. The space started to expand and contract. I started to expand and contract, too. From the darkness I could see the light of my life — the virtues. I saw me when I was fifteen, rescuing a cat from an angry dog. I saw me when I was twenty, working on an important project. And then the present came in sight: I was sitting humbacktedly at the office and there wasn’t any shine at all. It was the murk of my life. The yogi glanced at me meaningfully. 

‘Hey, you, take a break’ he said.

The ground started fading in. I was in the dirty city, sitting on the grass, speaking to an old man with a long beard who was a flower of God. My eyes were opened…

P.S. Now I will tell you the real story. Yesterday I saw a video that described David Lynch's art. In that video the presenter said that he (the director) practices meditation and he (the director) thinks that the meditation is a good way to find yourself in this big world. So I started reading about it. I liked it. The concept was so interesting, that I tried meditating. Then I fell asleep. In my dreams I came across this story. I immediately got up and started writing. Thank you for reading this short story! There is other stories on my profile, so I highly recommend to read them too. My favourite is The Time To Be Yourself. Have a nice day.

Oleksandr Chernov

2021