Life has its way of unfurling its plan before us like how a carpet is being unfurled. You don’t know how the carpet looks or feels like until it’s unrolled and laid out right before you. And then you make the decision: to step on it or not.
Sometimes the carpet feels more rug-like than carpet-like: rough, uncomfortable, maybe prickly. Certain inhabitants may have found its way to the carpet which makes the experience more than unbearable. Or it can just simply be the design and colors are such a horrible mish-mash that a look of it is seemingly repulsive.
But what can you do? You’ve bought the carpet and it’s now with you. Are you going to brush it off and keep it hidden forever in the store? Throw it away? Give it away to people? Or will you take time to cope with the challenges that come with it and determined to make it ‘different’ from what it is?
I’ve got various ‘carpets’ since I came to this world. Some were laid out before me without me having a chance to say yes or no. Some were ‘bought’ by me and along with it came some not-so-pleasant ‘inhabitants’. Some were seemingly small and pathetic-looking and yet these were the ones that usually brings the most joy out of me. This particular carpet has been a small, unruly-looking yet most interesting and the longest of all the carpets.
A purple carpet, dark and ruffled, with several layers of shimmering colors and waves over it. Uneven at the sides and with the occasional frays, looking at it carefully you can see stains and de-colorisation that happens with age. Yet the carpet is alluring in its own special way, calling out to you and asking that you take a seat, a journey with it.
Magic carpet? Not quite but close.
As you walk down the carpet, you occasionally trip and fall over small humps and big portholes. When the sun shines down, the heat builds up in the intricate weaves and burns your feet like hot coals. When the rain pours, it retains so much water that it wets your shoes, socks and feet through and through.
Yet when the area arounds you turn dark and there is nary a light to guide you, the carpet is there to help you. You shuffle your feet against the fabric, and the act of it assures you are still on track. The temperature drops to a bone-chilling cold and the carpet keeps you warm. The path turns nasty, with spiky stones and glass shards that calls out for your blood, and the carpet protects your feet from danger.
At the end of it all, through the winds and rain, the cold and heat, the ups and downs, the purple carpet becomes my main guidance in life. The path has not yet end and the journey onward-going. Despite the first impressions of it all, I know I have found my carpet.
Have you found yours?
