traveler’s thoughts: does being real matter?

For a long time, the traveler travels. He (or she) sees life, tastes life, lives life. Sometimes he mirrors life. Sometimes he evades life. Often he sits around at an invisible corner and watches life.

He likes a story named, Velveteen Rabbit. Here are quotes that impact his young life.

“Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’

‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’

‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit    

Does being real matter? Being hurt. Being worn out. Being very ‘shabby looking’ to those who do not understand the meaning of being real. The traveler once asked (when he was very young and tender).

The traveler traveled for a long time to many foreign lands and sat at the corner of many different events, sights, sounds, colors, purposes, missions, programs, activities, chores, causes, systems, worlds.

He wanted to find being real. Has he found it?

The answer remains his secret.

vevelteen rabbit

http://archive.org/stream/thevelveteenrabb11757gut/11757.txt

Excerpts from the above :

And he found that he actually had hind legs! Instead of dingy velveteen he had brown fur, soft and shiny, his ears twitched by themselves, and his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass.

He gave one leap and the joy of using those hind legs was so great that he went springing about the turf on them, jumping sideways and whirling round as the others did, and he grew so excited that when at last he did stop to look for the Fairy she had gone.

He was a Real Rabbit at last, at home with the other rabbits.

                          At Last! At Last!

 Autumn passed and Winter, and in the Spring, when the days grew warm and sunny, the Boy went out to play in the wood behind the house. And while he was playing, two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him. One of them was brown all over, but the other had strange markings under his fur, as though long ago he had been spotted, and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft nose and his round black eyes there was something familiar, so that the Boy thought to himself:

“Why, he looks just like my old Bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever!”

 But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(Note from the traveler: The real rabbit is not shabby looking. He is beautiful.)

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