Sunday Randomness

Void - Almost everyone I know has a "void".

What causes the void? Are we born with it or do we acquire it as we get cultured by our environment?

The awareness of this void sets in as we add years and experience in our kitty

If it were a vacuum, it is self-serving. A vacuum exerts such a pull that the space should get filled in.
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Why do we need someone or something to fill this void? Work, hobby, friend, colleague, pets - something to occupy that free space. We are constantly on the lookout for one.

Is it the noun or the verb that we are talking of?

Do we experience a void? Or the need to void?

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THE BALANCING FORCES

When a friend asked, what I meant by "neutral friend". I responded immediately, "A friend who doesn't tip the emotional balance." Period.

My mind's ramblings continued...

Centrifugal and centripetal forces  act to keep us balanced..to stand on our feet. On the x-axis, that is, with our feet firm on the ground. I heard someone say, "When you can stand, you should walk". A tight-rope walk with more forces waiting to act.

The forces on the y-axis act to disturb the equilibrium, sweeping us off our feet. But we aren't complaining! We are too happy to let down our guard. Ready to be blindfolded or even blinded and ready to take the plunge! Where to? Already fallen(pun intended). Some are elated to cloud nine, before the free fall happens.

The Z-axis - the quirky forces of our minds with unlimited potential. As we move on searching for our purpose in life, there are many bruises as one flounders in this space called mind, lost in its vastness. We hold on to the fire of hope as we grope around to find our way. Sounds assuring.

However, that fire of hope is waiting to be smothered because someone is gulping the oxygen down the already trodden path. The porous ground beneath your feet, is waiting to slip between your toes.
Sotto voce, you know there are more dimensions to this. Now, let me call it a day.

The strokes - from the graphite, the diamond

Written on 25-NOv-2014

    I am trying to coax myself...to gear up my spirit and move past this impasse hoping that this too shall pass. 

    I've taken time for the whole process - of taking it in and ruminating. As the images and memories flash across my mind's eye, the pleasant nostalgic stroll is engulfed by a wave of sickening nausea. The emotional churning is intense. The retching and its aftertaste leaves me bitter.  I can sense a storm stirring up a cauldron of turmoil inside my being which threatens to throw up any moment

The sustenance

I love unfolding the crisp newspaper pages, breathing their smell of fresh news, biting into the sizzling sensational, taking glimpses of the world, and all the while, sipping the satire. I hate it when neighbours pick up my newspaper before I lay my hands on it. I am possessive about my fresh aromatic slice for the day. I want a fresh lease of life - to turn the leaves of life.

Today, I lay lifeless,  sans breath.

Ran up and down, in vain, searching for the crumpled mass of paper, only to end up breathless. It's gone, no signs of breath -  where is my "papyracea-oma"? A lump in the throat,  a pain it is. Better to have a tumor in the brain  than a no-brain. The feeling of pain is better than the non-feeling of numbness. There is the numbness of loneliness, without the company of my good ol' timeless friend - the newspaper.

Can someone find me my missing link to life?

The reaction to a post

When I feel hurt, is anyone else to blame?

Have I made myself emotionally dependent and thereby, vulnerable? Maybe, yes. No.

Definitely, yes.

I give so much of priority to people around me, see the "person" in them that I hurt myself when they choose not to see "the person" in me. True that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. One of the "laws of motion". Time to move on.

I am a wall to many; inspiration to a few. A lesser mortal being that I am, I do face times when i need an inspiration, a wall. When I look for a wall to wail unto, there is a different kind of a wall, though. A wall that is impermeable to my feelings. There is limitless vacuum through which not even a whimper would get across.

Yet  a veiled wail was heard!

How and why is it that a post, aimed aimlessly at anonymous, strike a chord in a friend who chose to remain silent for long?

Do I get hurt because I can see them through? Why do I not see it before I let it hurt me?

Devoid of foresight, but with some aftersight, I convince myself with the insight that I am born to be happy and make others happy. There is a sense of denial akin to the one that engulfs every one of us when bereft of our loved ones.  By not letting the sense of hurt prevail upon me, I choose to give the hurt a silent burial. A burial too many. The phoenix rises, self-resurrected, over a  graveyard of living-dead feelings.

The spirits, distilled from the silent dead, lurk and shroud to haunt me at times - the aftermath of the Emotional Holocaust clouds my senses and faculties.

When I recover, there is so much of clarity that I see a void. I look at it with an alacrity that desires it be filled with  I-know-not-what  for posterity. But, did they not say, "desire is the root cause of all things evil"?

The brutality of honesty

Written on 16-Oct-2014

How many of us have been taught, "Honesty is the best policy"? All of us. How many of us have learnt it? And yet, how many have imbibed it?

To have imbibed it, charity should have begun at home. Yes, what we are is a reflection of what our parents have been. Our fathers(and mothers) shine through us.

Not one to randomly cast aspersions on anyone's integrity, I would only reiterate that "the child is the father of the man". As a child, one's father is the invisible piper and the ubiquitous potter.

The question that emerges is why are there people with dishonest, deviant  mentalities? How do people emerge with eccentric dimensions and deviations? Just as light gets refracted at an interface,  the law of Nature ensures that one's thoughts and attributes become altered as one confronts varied situations. Altered to take "the path of least resistance". Life is indeed a prism! Lends a plethora of colors to paint our masks and hypocritic cloaks.

Coming back to honesty, this imminently brutal honesty is meant to relieve one from bad karmas and repeated births. The irony, however, is that it unleashes its brutality on the beholder, repeatedly in the same birth. Thus, it spares him from repeated births. What kinda "kind" brutality!!!

I am brutally honest, to myself. Yes, it is destructive only to me, never to thee. I am honest to my family, friends, colleagues, whoever, wherever. It hurts when the repercussions boomerang. Nevertheless, I am not complaining. It annihilates the burden I will have to carry. I have no heavy baggages. Just a light buoyant bundle, exulting in the language of joy:)