The Art of Wandering

“Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth.”
― Pablo Picasso

I adore many non-religious celebrations in which we celebrate people and our relationships. Therefore February 14  is never like any other day. It is special, very special.

I don’t buy cookies, chocolates or red roses. I don’t wear red outfits to fit in with the commercialized traditions of the day. But there are a few rituals that I follow on this day every year. One of them is wandering. We both love wandering, making un-planned trips, tasting new food, meeting new friends, observing some invisible art and culture, capturing the mood of the day outside. It also deeply inspires when we meet other people who worship love just like we do.

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” – Rumi

 

On weekend, we visited Santa Cruz again. I used “again” because Santa Cruz is not a new place to us. We both must have gone there n number of times. Each visit, though, seems more beautiful than the earlier one.

We walked through many calm and cloudy afternoons in Summer there. We also happily relished warm days by the ocean in Winter. I love that different perspective that Santa Cruz offers each time we drop by. It feels very liberating, like Santa Cruz always wants to define its own season and it teaches you how you can do that too.

This time we spent most part of our Valentine’s Day at Pacific Avenue, the heart of Santa Cruz. The weather outside was pretty harsh. It reminded me of a sun-drenched, coffee-smelling afternoon from Mid-April. But there were happy couples from every generation, honoring the eternity of love, whispering loudly that some fall does not hurt that bad.  

I saw a group of 60 somethings happily holding red roses, clasping arms, giggling, making the street look like a red carpet walkway. Some free spirited musicians tirelessly played love songs that they composed to celebrate the day.

There were many artists displaying their arts. Some painters were passionately talking about their love- their paintings. They made all man-made marvels very alive on those dead papers- a yellow Golden Gate bridge kissing a leaden San Francisco sky, an orange Sun peeking behind a grayish tall building, a blue eyed mermaid soaking her green hair in the purple ocean, a whale jumping out to touch the horizon. 

I, once again, wanted to believe that imagination is more potent than reality.

When the evening overshadowed the glittery lipsticks of ladies in love, the streetlights over the leafless trees came alive. Suddenly the world became more loud, hurried to return where they belonged. 

We walked past a man who was singing American Author’s single “The best day of my life”- “I’m never gonna look back/ Whoa, I’m never gonna give it up/ No, please don’t wake me now/…/ This is gonna be the best day of my life…”

Sometimes you’ve to agree with the world, especially when it cheerfully tells you what you want to hear.