If only….

If only the chairs could speak. Oh, the stories that would rein you in with rapt attention and stun you into silence.

Intimate conversations between the souls of two long lost lovers. Silent sobs as siblings navigate though life after the imminent loss of their estranged father. Friends reminisce over life with the old monk for company, ruing missed opportunities and celebrating the small wins. The list is endless.

As the raging embers of the bonfire dissolve into ashes, the story telling follows a similar trajectory.

Heightened emotions, high pitched tones and the floodgates of vulnerability broken down in a flash of a second. Only to close in another fraction, just like the flame does- without external stimuli.

Ironically, the stillness of the night draws out our worst fears and brings out our best in us. It allows us to silence our constant running thoughts that tire our mind and souls, seek comfort and warmth in the fire and lean on the people we are with. We allow ourselves the privilege to be vulnerable with the ones we are with, in the moment, perhaps unlocking a door we don’t even have the keys to.

Honoured to be part of this tradition, the chairs’ one true desire is to hug you and tell you that everything is going to be okay. Like it panned out beautifully for the millions of occupants who have poured their hearts out, over the years. The timeless wisdom garnered by just being the proverbial’ fly on the wall’ would be put to good use.

In the comfort of the chair, as you snuggle searching for the sweet spot, the rays of the morning sun wash away the guilt and the carefree abandon.

The senses are dulled and the sweet lullaby of the birds drones you to sleep as you crossover to the world that exists between the sleep and the awake.

If only the chairs could speak. Maybe, that’s what the soul needs to listen to-a soothing voice to heal you, one word at a time.