Locked Up

I am a bird locked in a cage, peering out of the half-open blinds onto Bangkok, Sukhimvit 21 more precisely. I see a Minute Maid orange juice billboard, with curly-q Thai script printed on it. The vivid blue background and orange bottle seem to come from another world, a world that I don't exist in at the moment.  

Cars, busses, pedestrians, street vendors, meander along the street or sidewalks, but they are not part of me either. The site outside the window to another world lures me, it taunts me to come, and how I want to give in and escape. But no. I can only fly around in the third floor of Asoke Tower, and can't leave until I am set free for the day at 7 p.m., only to return to my cage the next day at 11 a.m.

But when I am set free at 7 p.m., I fly down the steps like a jubilant school girl. I don't take the elevator because I can't handle being in another closed in space for one more moment. I breathe the dark, street-lighted air, still stuffy from humidity and pollution, but this doesn't bother me because it's air from the outside world. Everything that was jammed into my head during the day in my work world floats out for a moment while I walk down the city sidewalk and catch a motorcycle taxi to the Skytrain. 

My soul, which was squished and stifled all day, is now regaining its strength. While the motorcycle taxi smoothly zooms around brightly colored taxis and dull-colored cars with the wind hugging me close, my spirit eats up the unrestrained freedom. I am alive again.

Are we suppose to live most of our lives caged up? I hope not. How I dream to one day have a job where I feel free. Where my soul is fully satisfied because I'm doing what I was created to do. 

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. ask yourself what makes you come alive and go do that because that's what the world needs- people who have come alive." 

-Walt Whitman