Chimeric Consciousness

On many an occasion, we beseech reasoning for the rationality of a certain something without seeing it in the light that it is to be seen. We assume as always that the grass on the other side is greener and to see a patch of brown is as unacceptable as a snake in the arctic wilderness. There hardly ever comes a time when we choose to acknowledge how erratically counterfactual our reasoning is. Wearing our hearts on our sleeves, we tend to believe in every action we pursue, not for once realizing how it would affect or concern another. 

As each day passes on wearily, we don’t comprehend the change, but we slowly begin to seem less like ourselves, turning into our own stranger versions, ones we’d never have expected. Incident upon incident leads us to change the direction of our course and the complete structure of our meander. It is but human.

As one night, a ghastly face roused her up in waking dream, crying out damnations in heinous tones, she broke in to a sweat and awoke in a cold shiver. She was losing what was closest to her heart – her love. It was inscrutable why such dark imagery should play out even in her semi-conscious state, for the palpability of such an occurrence in reality was less than zero.

The promenade of love that life sent them through was more than what arduous can describe.  There was more than one instance when external interventions led them to nearly want to leave the broken pieces and walk away – a decision that was not easy to take, and not easy to survive through either. As time moved on, the reasons that could have been to leave diminished and it saw their love grow manifold – there wasn’t anything that could so much as try to draw them apart.

Then why, oh why would her dreams haunt her?

Although she knew in all humanly perceivable sensibility that no matter what, his hand will always be there when she reached out, the inhumane imagery still gripped her with an inexplicable fear. She couldn’t comprehend why she would even remotely allow her subconscious mind to process such thought. He, her guardian angel, tried calming her down, but in vain. She was unnerved and agitated beyond a point where logical reasoning was nowhere in the vicinity. Why won't she accept a dream to be nothing but a dream?

If ever there is a situation of hurt, emotionally agonizing or otherwise, caused to us by what is close to our hearts, the pain can never die. Even time may not be able to help us get a grip. A fleeting thought can make us want to turn recluses who don't want to tread an unsteady path not knowing if and when the fall might come.

Love doesn't come easy, yes and we may have to face many of such a hitch along the way, but it's all well worth the while. Life is still all a dream with it's share of nightmares just the same. 

Fingers crossed

There are a number of variables that play a role in the shaping of what is your character, your ideology and what is your belief system. Many of which we unconsciously imbibe even through our mundane and usually not-so-fruitful interactions, but people forming the most integral part. And through this course of time, we also make some strong bonds, some acquaintances, we acknowledge the ones we admire and then the inevitable human tendency also attributes 'dislike' to a certain section. The basis for such a distinction and apparent classification is rather inexplicable. It is just, lets say, the way we feel around them. There are deep rooted elements in society, however, with a bearing on rigid principles on the basis of which these relationships are governed and groomed. The artless veracity of these that are sunk deep in the so-called archaic morality that is rather obsolete and holds no water in the scenario of today. Well, they don't choose to acknowledge this fact and hence a vicious circle of rather baffling and unpardonable exclusions and narrow outlook is being passed on to a generation that is growing up in an environment that is echoing and resonating a voice quite clearly to the contrary. There is scope for debate amongst young and old, yes - they do honour us by lending an ear, but the hope for change is, as according to them, a closed door that they are quite unwilling to open.

Apprehension to change is fair but such mustn't lead to a complete negation of any positivity that will be of benefit. Having inculcated staunch values in a certain regard, that today doesn't seem reasonable more than acceptable, being set in a radically strange surrounding and succumbing to irrational forces of some invisible iron hand that is refusing to state a valid purpose is distastefully repugnant. Having acclimatized to the filth of their fenced-in environ, they'd rather prefer to stay in than step out to experience a fresh breath of air that could but only do good to one polluted and ridden by custom.

Maybe it is our turn to stand up for what we believe in, show them what we see and enable them to look at it from an absolutely different angle, that although contradictory to their set of norms, does have reason in its being. Every conflict has a solution - whether big or small - judgment of nature is relative and open to interpretation. It is just a matter of time and perseverance. A comprehensible vision of the 'light at the end of the tunnel' may not be in sight, but it is the light of hope within our hearts that will shine out and show us our way through. And at the end of it all, it will be worth this spasmodic malady. This is no fool's paradise. This is life and we'll live it by our standards. Trust me.

Pellucid Pursuit

There may be rather numerous objects of grace, articles of elegance, that capture otherwise contradistinct hearts, and then there is one that all look up to - the moon. Undeniably splendid as it evokes a concoction of  varied emotion, it opens out in you the deepest love. Many a night she stood by the window as the delicate drapery fluttered in the gentle breeze of an oncoming pleasant spring night hoping for some insight, wondering whether the rays that shone so bright would bring with it a glimmer of hope for the much tormented soul of a poor mortal unable to handle the variables of her very existence. Every blossoming day brought with it a new angle to an already contorted situation making the simple prismatic effect rather a far cry and unpleasantly psychedelic. As your heart is leaping bounds in unspoken joy, there is a subconscious force pulling you back and is unallowing in proceeding fruther without killing the ego of uncertainty. The carte blanche may be hard to derive and every turn along the way has you anxious of what is to come, but at the end of the day, it is how you choose to move on, move along, how you choose to survive. Life brings with it a whole pallet of assorted problems and for some the package looms larger than it looks. In situ, what you do matters more than what you could have done or should do. The factors that influence your life lie in your hands alone and if a certain consequence ensues with relative respect, then that too is of your own making. It is for us to realize that nobody can bring about the change we want to see, for we've all been born different and if you want to see something happen, then go out there and make it happen. It doesn't help to further worry and analyze permutations and combinations. Follow your heart. You and only you know exactly where it is leading you and where it will. Second chances are fair for us to give another but whether we will be given one remains ambiguous. Every step forward is in pursuit of your dream and every action is only to fulfill it. Life itself happens just once. Don't think. Don't say. Don't feel. Just DO it.

Tempus Imperfectum

A dramatic flutter, in archaic splendor with stupendous fervour, and as I wonder - the breath taking, mystifying charm of it all. Surreal, enrapturing gaiety and the poised elegance make seem the ardous endeavour of the eversmiling artiste all but strivingly strenuous. A thousand gasps echo in absolute disbelief - a picture cannot capture to tell the beauty of sights seen as such. And then the curtain falls.

Life itself has evolved much as a stage play, whether small or big, the reification of character to not just bring out that touch of absolutist perfectionism but also a character that stands out, a character that the audience can't help but notice. We may, many of us, prefer to remain somewhere there, in the background, in quiet subjugation to the rhythm in tune, fearing to make a slight change - maybe a mere addition, a personalization that could only add a touch of further beauty to the presently colourful ensemble. It isn't the betterment of the present that matters as much as our perspectice to shape our predicament to voice what is our prerogative, without having prejudiced eyes upon us set, and without hassle, but in subtle appeasement make accepting to an audience that would probably be in expectance of something rather different. What to them seems perfect may just be ametric and the suggested change a probable shift in the regular order of existence.

A departure from the norm may come as a welcome surprise to those willing to welcome/accept such change but there is never a proposition that can be brought forth without opposition. It is the intriguing complexity of human nature that makes further interesting the trials and travails of those who set forth with a certain determination to enable them to see the benefits of change. It may not be a successful pursuit, but there is never harm in trying. Perseverence is by itself a rewarding virtue and if there is a certain something that you really desire, then these are just hurdles testing your finesse in bracing it all. 

(Tempus Imperfectum refers to imperfect time signature in music - a departure in a certain section from that time which is prescribed in general for the entire piece.)

Approaching Ambivalence

When all that you can see beyond is a mere blur - the future that you cannot read, the mist that you cannot trespass, a hazy shade of shadows in the deep obscurity of apprehensive incognizance, then there really isn't much reason in trying to permeate an unyielding wall when calm resignation to the present, a humble acceptance of the absolutist contemporaneous today, bound to garner greater peace of mind and a multitude of warmth as compared to strained hope?

Every blossom may not stay, yet to see the break of day, certain of transience, although a sight worthy of audience. The moment is now yours to change, to tweak, to twiddle and make that difference. Futuristic contemplation of what may and may not be is precisely a positive corruption of the essential now. Idealism prevails within our minds stoking a fire of hope, bringing the ardor and affection of love and a glow of undiminishing ever after. Whether there will be such a painted reality is inexplicable, but it isn't only the wand of fate playing the game in its creation - every spark of the human heart has an underlying ulterior emotive passion that surprisingly can turn your way, the direction of the wave upon the sand.

Life may seem to have brought with it umpteen problems, undecipherable, and yet its complexity is intriguing. There are many roads that lead you away from it, but to have the strength to brace it all and take that which is rocky is courage personified. As in the words of Ambrose Redmoon, courage is not the absense of fear but rather the belief that something else is more important than fear. It isn't in the blood of every man to yearn to traverse the untrodden. It is convenient to succumb to the evil of comfort and condescendingly dismiss the spirit of difference - to believe to have seen it all when you haven't turned a page.

The journey we began is long and the course unchartered. Every turn springs new dimension to what we thought complete, an explanation that may only await overleaf. Every event may seem incomprehensible, but there is a backbone of reason holding it all together, giving it the form that ultimately will show the truth of an awaiting destination justifying the heartburn, the pain, the trifles, the lost diversions and the tears shed, all in search, with a hope, of finding that one true love. Shakespeare did once say, a journey ends in lovers' meeting. And so it will, when every toil of today will bring to your tomorrow the cherished desire of a hopeful love. But till then, savour the moment and enable yourself to take it as it comes for the uncertainty of the future lies hither as is yonder. For now, just Live. Dream. Be.

A secret told

Acquaintance of one's thoughts is not as palpable a manifestation. There is no apparent visibility as the haze fades away. How far below are they submerged, to let your mind plunge into a bottomless crevasse, is intrinsically extraneous. Every sparkling blossom of intuitive musing lets you delve further within yourself, an element which subtly shows you as particular. Within the prosaic and mundane existence, the relief of your soul from what is commonplace lets you traverse lines untraced. The provenance of such profundity remains in the fascinating allure of the deepest secrets that are held in your innermost chest of treasured moments, moments woven into our lives through instances with people who hold in your heart a special place. Words have always been the perfect vent to enunciate what you truly behold beneath the pseudo realm of the bewitching dazzle of the eye. What is fondly embraced in a certain circumstance may, tomorrow, prove to be heart wrenching. Acquiescing to walk along the promenade of indelible memories, to want to kiss many of them goodbye and slowly edge forward, to experience ere long purely unquestionable passion, is what is best done to rekindle a spark that seems unwilling unless you set your heart in apple-pie order. Life brings with it a fair share of love and laughter and to be able to share its enchanting odyssey with someone who is uniquely distinguished in your life is a yearning wish I've made upon my wishing star that mystically sparkles within the precinct of the magical night sky.

I found my solace in a happening fortuitous, and for long after it seemed like words failed me. The incentive to write seemed to fade away. Life itself seemed, with a newfound essence, pretty perfect until I also realized that besides the zestful verve, a certain aspect of me was lost when a touch of it flitted away. The ability to bring out expressions that lie amidst the core and leave them without, to rest with an unburdened soul, as the notes play out in enrapturing harmony, feels complete - truly a love one cannot leave. 

Touchstone

I trudged along, up a hill, each resounding step stealing into the realm of silence. A warm sunny day, it was, one charmed to lure you out yonder. Each tiny leaf of grass and flower of weed wrapped with the mystic glow, reflecting the warmth of the sun. Isolated, the land of dreams - far removed from the bounds of every precipice and even of peripheral reality. 

Gaeity in stride, crushing beneath what was parasitically painful - I moved on. The walk was long but the dawn of day didn't seem to want to meet its better half and much rather seemed to be drawing away from the hazy warmth of dusk. The anonymous bliss of one who had shed a burden far too heavy - to walk away, indifferent, unmindful, free, sans a touchstone. 

Each step held greater renowned meaning. There was much to look forward to, as Pollyanna would have put it. What will tomorrow be? - I cannot say. But what is evident, 'beyond reasonable doubt', is the transient temporal cosmos within which our existence takes a new turn every living second. It is all very well when many a wise man will have tread paths untrodden and pass on words of wisdom but that which we unfortunately fail to imbibe. 

If we cannot live for the present, then what are we living for? - Reveling in dreams past will not make the ride ahead any easier, rather dream on, don't stop. Somewhere down the line, when you're running out of gasoline and hope is a word whose meaning doesn't hold anymore, from the midst of nowhere, that hand you've always waited for will bail you out.

Until then, trudge on and never look back.