When it rains, it pours. Not only was there a stretch of rainy days and thunderous nights outside, but an accompanying downpour of homework and final projects to prepare inside. Having moments like last night, dressing up with friends for a fancy night out just for the heck of it, truly helps.
I shared another experience earlier this week of self expression and relaxation. Having been invited to a mantras meditation session in a lovely alcove, a room full of strangers and I were able to let go and feel the magic of the moment. It started off with some conscientious breathing, in the serene presence of provided blankets and scented candles in an otherwise dark and cold room. Laden with instruments, what followed was a ritual of melodic melodies we ourselves produced in junction with the beautiful notes that filled the room, bursting at the seams. It felt liberating to sing, hum, make noise at a level of reverberation with others and their artistic craft.
The session ended with a discussion, where consciousness was brought up. One man’s reply: hate has no conscious, struck a chord with me. What so often feels like a lack of understanding, can spark the worst in us. When one sees another for aspects they choose to whittle away, instead of seeing the whole person as more than the sum of their parts, not only does hate protrude, but impacience, frustration, and the less pretty of our facades.
I say this not as part of some grand theory of human existence, while it is on the mind, but as a reminder that living and studying in a place like Buenos Aires is bound to poke and provoke you now and then.
A few nights ago I found myself a bit irritable at discovering no bikes available in Plaza Güemes after one person marked theirs as needing repair. The guy felt bad he left me out in the cold like that, so he stuck around and chatted me up. I was a bit sour, not wanting to engage in such, but when he told me he was nervous because he had a plane to catch in twelve hours, I was curious. Pablo was his name, stopping through London en route to Spain. We got to know one another a bit more, and I made a 180 mood-wise.
It’s tough to remember everyone is dealing with something, that we’re more than just what surfaces on the outside. We might as well be icebergs, only revealing 10%, while roughly 90% lies in obscurity. It takes a deep dive, and lots of oxygen, to get a feel for that 90%, but it’s more than worth it. I would want someone to pay me that respect, and hopefully you would too.
You may find people in Buenos Aires to be tough to get to know, especially fellow classmates with entrenched friend groups. But they open up in time, and no matter if it’s a taxista, feminista, or cualquierista, letting go of the rainy day blues could open your sky to A Whole New World of possibilities (sorry I had to, I’ve seen Aladdin (live-action) twice now, and have Un Mundo Ideal stuck in my cabeza)!