I’ve been reading up a bit on the Bhuddist philosophy of Yuanfen, in which it is believed that friends/relationships occur either through fate or destiny. Relationships that happen through fate, are those that just happen, however, they are meant to just teach you lesson so that you may progress and grow as a soul. Relationships that are destined, however, are the ones that last the biggest test of all, the test of time. A destined relationship will endure the most trials and tribulations, suffering, heartache and pain, so that it may continue to be.
Now, I want you to think of the last person that you met. Think of when you met, think of how you met, and now think of why? Now I want you to think of someone else that you met, who you could now not even imagine living your life without.
Other than immediate family, and even in that case it is arguable, most of the people we meet happens to be through chance, through randomness, through a series of seemingly unplanned coincidental consequential acts with such definitive factors. This Mandarin proverb really captures the concept well: "it takes hundreds of reincarnations to bring two persons to ride on the same boat; it takes a thousand eons to bring two persons to share the same pillow".
With each person we meet, there is an amalgamation of fine, precise details that lead to the encounter. A moment later, you would have missed the train, thus never seeing, the girl who later becomes, the love of your life. Or conversely, you missed the train, and there departed, unbeknown to you, the love of your life. Such fine details operating like clockwork.
This eventually led me to write a poem (don’t act like you are surprised, it’s what I do!). The background of this poem has quite a funny story to it. It begins at a bar in central London. I was out with three of my male friends, being inconspicuous, nonchalant and cool, as you do. There was a birthday party, lots of women glammed up, men were dressed to impress. There I was, half way between a day dream and a prayer when this incredibly beautiful woman walks into the room. It was as if the light of the moon shining through the window lit up the path for her to walk through. Correction, glide through. I was marvelled. I pointed her out to my friends, none of them were able to see what I saw - which further reinforced my belief in the idiosyncrasy of beauty – and hastily urged me to “go and talk to her then”.
Talk to her? What kind of….? I thought I was being set up. How can I just go up and talk to a woman with an ethereal, transcendental beauty ordained by divinity? I was more single than an orderly queue at a cashpoint, but still that wasn’t a good enough reason.
My friend, seeing my outraged reaction to his suggestion, then stated “you’re not even going to talk to her, you’re probably just going to go home and write a poem”.
I was enflamed, “of course I’m going to talk to her”, you know, because that’s what men do. Apparently. So, I spent the next 10 (it was probably closer to 45 mins), trying to hype myself up and get ready. It didn’t work. Ultimately, to cut a long story short – I’m really not trying to embarrass myself any further – I did end up going home and writing a poem. The poem isn't necessarily about the girl who I didn’t speak to, however, the poem is more so about such moments that we let slip through our fingers. Though the story is anecdotal, it is symbolic in understanding the eventuality of causality. That who we do meet, and build relationships with in the future, is often because of who we didn’t in the past.
I really believe that Yuanfen is an existing principle which manifests in our everyday lives.
The poem is called “Moon Child” (Yaunfen ) and you can read it below.
I will be releasing the video soon so please look for it, but for now, you can read below or download the image.
“Moon Child” (Yuanfen 緣分 )
Life is the complex amalgamation of the beautiful and tragic,
the beautiful is she,
the tragic is knowing that I will never be with her.
Never feel the smooth of her skin, the soft of her hair,
place my hands on the small of her back,
or hold them together, like a prayer.
We pray for love, but we say love is blind,
so it's no surprise that it rarely finds its way to us.
We stood, worlds apart, but then you moved closer and smiled
it reminded me of my childhood; all that was joy and laughter,
playing run outs, hopscotch and had,
cassette tapes and pencils,
dancing to Michael Jackson – Bad. Real bad.
I dreamed a stencil of your silhouette outlined in the moon,
your glow was too bright for my eyes made dull by the sorrows of this world.
I watched you walk by, like a ballerina on a cloud,
like notes on a hymn sheet you were the beautiful harmony,
I imagined your voice like peace.
brought a stillness to my heart that is only matched by poetry,
but as you moved closer to me, I felt the blood rush through my veins
like a thousand stampeding elephants,
broken blissful benevolence,
excuse me for my silence, I was simply in awe.
Last I saw was you walk out of the door,
knowing that I was never going to see you again,
I decided to write this poem, to remind me, that in each day,
life gives us an opportunity to turn something from the tragic
into the beautiful. So I'll say these words
and hope that they are carried up by the wind
like candle lit lanterns across the night sky.