Oh, well, sometimes “it’s not you, it’s me” is the best thing we can say. Some people are born with a larger perspective so much so that they genuinely care for things that are bigger than them. Others like me get stuck in a place where you can’t look beyond reflections of oneself. This is a part of the confession series .
I found this not-so-vindictive write-up in the sketch book and I couldn’t believe that fact that time hasn’t changed me at all. I’m still this person, unwilling to be the vulnerable one. Every time somebody takes a snippet of my feelings for them, I demand to see them giving me a part of them that nobody else had a privilege to take. When we part ways because we always do, I treasure these replacements that the other person has left with me as a new version of myself.
PS: I know this post has a slightly morbid sense of being, but I assure you, most of us want this at some point or the other, this need to let the other person be hurting without our presence.
I’m often stuck in the oddity of Valorising a conversation and being greedy to know more about a person is just one way of knowing what they are worth to you.
Sometimes Courage isn’t about saving others. It’s about letting go of your own insecurities and standing up for however you are. I learnt it the hard way, but I was glad I was brave enough to discover myself.
When I found this in my sketch book I realized that I was much more wiser two years ago. I probably wrote this down because I wanted to tell my future self that being alone is a phase to be savored like a decadent chocolate mousse!
I recently watched the movie “the perks of being a wallflower ” after thumbing through the book. there has been a lot said about the movie , a lot more said about the storyline and even more so said about the cast and the crew.I do not have anymore to add to it.For me it was a good movie with some poignant moments that would be remembered only to be forgotten ,which is the beauty in itself.
It was something that Charlie said that I couldn’t forget ,”Right now we are alive and in this moment I swear we are infinite.”
I often wonder what it would be like to be infinite.Would we have corny lines to belt out ? or would be just bottle it up to let the moment be pickled in the reflections of our grainy memories? I guess to feel infinite is to be ourselves (or not !). It’s not about throwing caution into the winds yet it is all about saying ” I ” without others into the questions, with no comparison before or after.
There are not many moments of such pure infinite-ness in our memories and I should think we should be glad for it. The essential basics of infinite-ness like being yourself ,being absurd , being in love , being rooted and the world pass you by are all there . Our mind is already overloaded with so many categorizations ,that we shouldn’t burden ourselves with anymore of these.Perhaps we should let it just be .To see and let it just be infinite with possibilities.to look at the dealings of life ,to challenge the mundane things in the most possible screwed up ways and yet feel that ,this is there and it belongs to start and end right now, like a self combustible capsule. Everybody should be lucky to recognize that one infinite moment , and maybe if I were religious I’d just say , “hey there ! today I met GOD.”
When I was introduced to Mr.Russell Edson ,I had a feeling we would click and the chemistry between us would flow .For once my intuition was beyond the right of all my wrongs.Russell Edson with his book the Tunnel has not only added more meaning to my slot of random philosophies than all the philosophers combined .There has never been any poetry which has made me laugh and say “that’s just too much truth “. He has a way of saying things , a gift of being inane ,absurd and trippy , but what makes him stand out against that stark background of all those people who have published books is that , he makes you think even with the beautiful facade of non sense. To me he is Lewis Carol and Salvador Dali in a single package with the benefits of being high on weed.
As a writer we often have the need to make sense , to set things right in the world , but what if you could not set things in place ? what if all the writing in this world was utter non sense after some “non sense ” made complete sense? I guess there comes a time ,when reading becomes too tedious because you are trying to look at the world through the lenses of our own facades.Maybe if we strip them down to bare minimum, without being a cynic or a realist or an idealist or any other categorization, maybe we would understand the simplicity of minds ,words and their meaning.
I shall leave you with an except from the Tunnel ,to which I connect to on so many levels I cannot even begin where .
The Fall Russel Edson
There was a man who found two leaves and came indoors holding
them out saying to his parents that he was a tree.
To which they said then go into the yard and do not grow in the livingroom
as your roots may ruin the carpet.
He said I was fooling I am not a tree and he dropped his leaves.
But his parents said look it is fall.
The disclaimer: The following essay has no relation to anything living or dead. It’s meant to be understood the way its NOT written .This essay is also a by product of a very crazy read of the Dice Man by Luke Rhinehart and Black Swan by Nassim Nicholas Taleb
There is a choice for everything you do in life . Frost wasn’t even being remotely poetic in his attempt to portray the anguish of the human choices .Since this journey of life that has been charted for us is a long and lengthy one , our memories conveniently morph these difficult ,painful and uncertain instances as happenstances .
It’s easier to translate these choices into oblivion, such that they remain inconvenient truths hidden deep in the necropolis of our lives .Often when I read history I wonder about the moment of decision where these choices have been taken without any sense of certainty of the outcomes in the future .If Vangogh wouldn’t have made a deliberate choices he would never have died early with syphilis to achieve the glorious fame.Even the biblical references of eve’s choices must have had a subtle influence on the rest of humanity .
The question then arises that , do I carry this package of restlessness of a posing a certain finality to a indistinct future as a part if my gene code , or is it just a mere universally accepted way of life ?
A life that is dependent on these choices for marking the momentary moments of regret and joy .Wouldn’t it just be simpler to de-fragment life into its utter core , strip away all the false emotions that the society forces us to adapt and learn.Then perhaps take a very conscious step towards the unknown , just so that down the lane of history never should it be masked by the word chance , happenstance or serendipity.
Ever question a life without the possibility of making choices ?? How would the human mind work then ?Would acceptance of everything would be taken just as taken for granted in the same way choices are taken ??Or would we all be under the dictatorship of each others acceptance and sort of becoming Chinese products ?? Or would we all drown ourselves into a whirlpool of nonsense , just to make sense out of it , such that we never understand anything anyways ?? Or are we doing it already ??
Another passing thought :If love is a conscious emotion , then why is it termed to be a stroke if chance or fate ?? Don’t we deserve the credit for the same , instead of the unseen forces ??
I rush to finish the last few editorial changes of a long pending assignment. The coffee pot is brewing the concoction , and I cant wait to get back to the unfinished pages of 1Q84 . Ever since the book arrived as a little surprise , I have been carrying it around like a talisman(and a heavy talisman at that ). I restlessly wait for lectures to get over like a child waiting for the last ring of the school bell so that I could get into the word of Tengo and Amomame .Over the past few days I religiously sip my coffee only after I have made sure that the words of Murakami flow in my head again.
I will not divulge into the details of the book ,but I shall tell you this ,Where Orwell sold us the idea of a totalitarian world , Murakami creates a world of make believe , without the orientation of a definite directional space. The characters are real but the world around you isn’t . Sometimes when I sit in my college lectures , I often feel the disorientation one feels when you suddenly see light.I long to go back to a world where what you see, may or may not be real . The constant thought at the back of your mind while reading this book would be that maybe what you are looking at is a farce and you are the real thing, just like you would look around you twice for the big brother and correct your words of casual doublespeak usage while you were reading 1984.
Its a interesting way to pass your time , to question the whole situation of reality ,lets say repeatedly. Its a beautiful mind game played . There are certain Philosophical lines that makes you want to shout , of course you are real and the surroundings are what they maybe.
Its a draw back of the book that you will look into the night sky and wish to see another smaller moon along with your usual moon.Well right now ,I sound like a lunatic (another set back post reading the book), but as an architect I now question the spaces around me .Weird ? well its the effect of the two moons.
“Perhaps at some point ,when my mind was sleeping , somewhere in another space ,the world changed” .