Sunday, March 11, 2012

Judging A Book By Its Cover

At some points of your life, you might have realized that
you were wandering in a certain bookshop aimlessly, without
any prior preparations on what books to look for or what you
were supposed to do there.

You just happened to be there, where books appear at nearly
every corner your look. As though each book had a voice,
shouting, "look at me, I'm beautiful!" Each screaming for
your undivided attention.

And this is where beauty, or the art of the book's display starts
to come in.

You were in a situation where you had no idea what author to
look for, or what kind of books you should be browsing through.
Then, you just begin to "sniff" if you can find any familiarities that
could associate you with the book, in any way whatsoever.

And that's how, maybe, this natural filter of what looks good 
versus what interests you collide. There are things that intrigue
you just by you looking at it, and there are also those that
makes you want to open it just because you think you know
its contents.

So maybe I'm going about on perceptions.

More often than not, we always associate ourselves with the
things around us. More often than not, they are usually the things
that walk, talk and breathe the same air we do.

These things we call people.

We first look at how they present themselves. Just like a book.
If the look of its cover doesn't make you wanna throw your
sight away from it, there's a chance you might still want to
open it up and read it.

Then maybe, what they do from what we can observe. This
could be like the synopsis of the whole book. It tells you the
brief introduction of the book without letting you know all
the other minor details there is to the book.

Just like how there are many things about people we don't
know about, but what we do know, is from what we can
see and observe.

Like some sort of preliminary inference, without the proper
setup of a workable scientific apparatus. And that inference
basically describes what that person is to you, without
getting to know the person yet. Just like the first impression
you get off the book after the book compels you to lift it
off the shelf and looks at its hind for signs of texts, and
then putting it down after extracting what minimal info
you could get from the text.

So, lets say, you already browsed through a few books,
and this little one deserved a good owner, or so you might
have thought. You purchased it and brought it back home,
ecstatic about the fact that you're gonna be spending quite
some time with a new story or contextual journey.

You open it up. You read the first page. Then the next page.
And other pages thereafter. You begin to feel a sense of
loss as your expectations of the book failed you. And so you
toss it at the corner of your room, vowing to eternally disown
it from your very sight, because it didn't match the inference
you made from the book.

The first impression intrigued you. Not the contents.

Then as time passes, you might've met a silly mundane day
of gray boredom. You might've been cleaning up your room,
and the book just lies there right in front of you, asking for
you to give it another reading chance.

As though it was saying, "You just read the front part! You
don't know the whole story yet. Once you do, you might think
I'm a brilliant book! Read me again!"

And just when you thought you had nothing else better to do,
you find yourself opening up the book, trying to recall the page
or chapter where you left it. And you just couldn't. So out of
the interest of refreshing your memory, you begin reading the
book from start again.

And this time, the book just engages you, it's as though
all the words that didn't make sense and disinterested you
in the first place felt magically changed.

They interest you now. They make sense now.
You just want to finish the book now.

Once you did finish it, you'd be saying to yourself, "that wasn't
such a bad book after all. Wonder why I tossed it away the 
other time. Silly'o me."

Similar to the people we encounter, there are those who we
think we might get along just fine with them at first.

As some time passes, you find that the person's character
or personality is not to your liking. There lacked events to
meet you up in the process too. So your last impression
that person made to you, stayed for as long as you remained
apart. And slowly, you just don't think about it anymore,
because it doesn't seem to matter to you. Or maybe you
just didn't want it to matter.

Then one random day, you bump into one another by chance,
and you managed to have a small chat. And this chat completely
shatters the perception of what you had before of that person,
into what that person currently is, and you begin to ask yourself,
"that person ain't that bad after all. What happened between us?"

What happened between us?

There are things that we all can't understand at first. They may seem
bizarre, or maybe just plain awkward. It just makes you want to pull
away from it the more you know about it.

As time spun its wheel, those blurs begin to form lines of clarity,
and the pieces just begin to come together somehow.

I guess relationships with people, are like relationships with books.
There are the those who we're not quite fond at the beginning.
But after a certain lapse, and a rekindling moment, you just
begin to realize the details of what had happened, and look at
it in a non-personal way. When the personal human filter is out,
that's when you truly know a person for what he or she is.

So blink. Close your eyes. Clear your mind.

Read it again.  From start to finish.

What seems to be what you think may not always appear
to be how you have perceived it to be. Once the illusion of
what seems is thrown out, maybe the real picture of reality
will be painted out for you.

Perhaps this is what people meant when they said,
Free your mind off things, and you'll begin to see what you could not.
The world and its many inhabitants are each beautiful at its own right. 
It'd be a shame to allow the mars of prejudice to lose their panoramic 
colours to all the unimaginable beauties we could only dream behold.

O


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