A Dreaming Tapestry

 One day a man was riding the bus, just like every other day. And it was a new day, and yet it wasn't a new day at the same time, because this man was lost in his own dream: going to work, earning a living, and avoiding troubles at any cost. But on this particular day, a man looks up and sees the sunrise. And he marvels that his life is a passing bus on the way to a sunset.
   Have you ever felt that at the end of the day, it is all just one dream? Not to say that it's a bad dream, or a good dream, or even an insignificant dream, but think for a moment: were the things you worried about a year ago the same concerns you have today? Is there ever one particular concern that always stays with you, life after life, as though it were haunting you? In fact , I can hardly think of anything that has been an overarching concern. Rather, each step is a step in a long chain that often considers a great many things, yet which never has a final end or turn.
   Paying attention to the peculiar patterns of life is an art in itself. I recall that in Of Human Bondage, W. Somerset Maugham had used the metaphor of life as a tapestry, in which patterns have a life of their own and dance around key themes, depending on a person's character and tendencies. It's not about wrestling out of the tapestry, but more so about feeling one's way into the weaves and knits, to understand what the designs and patterns are intimating and suggesting. This is a very delicate art and balance, but one should perhaps not confuse it with something that has only one particular goal in mind.
   This is to say: study the intimate ways of life, with a microscopic eye of wonder, and one will appreciate and enjoy even its unpredictable moments and downturns.