Flowing through the flow

Relax. Breathe. Life doesn't make sense. You totally would have wanted something else, you would be doing something else for someone. Most of the time, people are just getting through life. I ask myself, do we need a sense of purpose in life? I wonder! 

There is a quotation I love and adore. This goes like this "Everything happens for a reason". See, as a human beings we can't understand or contemplate all the mysteries of the universe. We don't even know what are we doing here on planet Earth. We are just getting through life, day by day. So this quotation made me feel like there is purpose behind pain and suffering. When I say everything happens for a reason, I see a bigger picture. 

Because, frankly speaking, I have laughed when I look back at the times I cried, and cried when I look back at the times that I laughed. Events would seemingly look like positive or lame, but in retrospect they would seem so wrong. And on the other hand, few happening would seem so wrong in the beginning, but as time goes by, it becomes the best thing that had ever happened to us. 

Say, of course breaking up literally breaks our heart. We would be willing to do anything to make everything work. But alas, we would have to let that person go. It will feel so wrong at that moment. But after a few months or years, when you look back, you would understand that the relationship wasn't working or it would be toxic and you had to let go. And now you would have understood why it had to happen that way. 

So this is the one rule of reality. Life makes sense only in retrospect. So don't worry to much. Don't worry about the future or regret the past. Just flow through life. Look at the sky. Jump through the puddles. And mostly, make every moment count. Create memories in the present moment. Love with all your heart. Live as if there is no tomorrow. 

Dark rain. 

Blink, Blink, Blink

The cursor blinks every second. Like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Will I actually write/type anything or something? The resistance that has piled up over the years is too much to handle. There is this layer of anxiety, pain, grief, depression and fatigue. I am digging beyond all these layers to find any inspiration, anything at all, to start from scratch. I keep my fingers over the keyboard, I feel different than I usually feel in my life. How do I feel when writing? Why do I feel like I fit inside here, between these words that are made up in my mind and I have no idea how I am even making words out of it. Deep down inside the place called soul or heart or whatever, there exists a burning desire to write. I want to write. “Wow!!” I utter to myself. But, then comes the question “about what”?. There come so many topics and other stuff that I adore and can write pages about. But the mind rejects them instantly and all that is left is the blank page with the cursor blinking every second. It gives me anxiety. Just for god’s sake, stop blinking. Hence to put an end to the blinking demon, I just start writing. The words flow naturally, like a dam that was waiting to explode, like waterfalls that were long held by the roadblocks, like the clouds were hit by cool winds. Plus it feels like a moral responsibility or an obligation that I have. I pause and zone out. A minute later, I again peek through the blank pages. The cursor starts blinking again. How persistent.? The blinking cursor never stops blinking for even a second, it works relentlessly. It holds me captive. When the cursor that blinks is that persistent, then I am an “I don’t know what”, then how persistent I should be. 

Between the space of words, the cursor again blinks. Can I just jump inside the page and hold the cursor stationary. Between words is where I belong. Sometimes, I feel like I was born to write since nothing else makes me feel better or rest alone, nothing else gives me this satisfaction of letting things be themselves. I don’t filter my words, they drop out raw on the paper. Like no filter, no warning signs, or clues to the reader what they might expect. It is words put in a zigzag manner and coined under one roof. I am surprised by every word that falls next into order and it’s scaring the shit out of me because I really don’t have the slightest idea of how words arrange on this blank page. Am I really writing? “Yes”!, I utter again. Because these words were formed inside my head and I lay them down in whatsoever order and type with my own hands. So, I should be the one who is responsible for the words. But yet, as the words fall into place next to the magical, crazy cursor, it appears as though they are being brought into this reality by some sheer force that no one ever has an idea of. Is it true? Yet, it appears so. So this removes the tension of the mind. Since, I am not the one who is formulating the words, sequences, vocabulary or any choice of words. So anything that I drop off here cannot and should not be taken back to me for any kind of clarification, since I am not the one who is writing all this. That’s a relief. The cursor again blinks. I look at the cursor with the awe of what else gonna come in the form of words and what else is gonna change the world.

The Rainy Day

 It was a cold, windy and overcast morning. The Sunday vibes were calm, cool and healing. The sun came out to brighten up the world with its glory. The monsoon was at its peak. Since the emergence of the monsoon, the birds were coming out, chirping, singing, moving, shifting with an elegant dance. Hall-mark of June was that it marked the beginning of something astonishing and beautiful. The monsoon was beautiful and took us to exaltation. Early mornings were chill and refreshing. Surprisingly, the mind halts and gives itself to this glory. Thoughts were reduced to none. The cold, wet climate was breathtaking, the serenity that was overlaid by the rain clouds was pure bliss. Calming energy was cast upon the world. I was enchanted by the rain spell and was willingly spellbound. The clouds weren't too dark, yet it was pouring like a heavy torrent. This was unexpected and actually a surprise. Everything was rain-soaked. Water drops dripped everywhere, there was a distant roar of thunder, the sound of rain hitting the rooftops was like constant murmur. It was calm and steady. As if rain has heard my plea. It picked up speed. It got quite darker, but the sky was full of plain white-greyish clouds. The droplets got bigger, the sound of falling rain felt like soldiers marching on the rooftops. It picked up speed as if it's on a race. On a race with whom, I have no idea. The breeze was chilly and cold. It got faster and faster. The trees stood still, with arms wide open. Maybe even they love being soaked under the rain. They got drenched. Even though it feels like they have no choice, I guess they love their choice thoroughly. Birds sought shelter between trees. They dried their body thoroughly and twittered looking at the plain sky.

It stood near me, and moved swiftly and elegantly, and twittered looking at the sky. It felt like the tailorbird was calling me out. "The sky is pouring down,  everything is rain-soaked, it's cold and chill here, I am sure you would enjoy this thoroughly, just step outside. Just one step at a time". They tweeted and chirped at the background as if they are bringing the rain down from heaven. They seem to enjoy the rain as much I do. They were happily singing "Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirrup!! The water drops resting on the trees were like a pearl, glistening, glossy and it was worth thousands. They gathered along with the tips of the leaves, waiting eagerly for the touchdown. They were more in numbers and the sights were like pearls of various sizes,. bright as white, shinny and beautiful, waiting for cues to drop off the leaves. They did as new pearls took their place, they dropped at a steady pace and happily gave way their place, and reached the Earth swiftly. Suddenly, a distant roar of thunder lasted for a few seconds.

All these events felt like a grand play. The mighty rain had slowed down, but only to pick up the pace again. It got darker, even though the sky was covered only with greyish-white clouds, not black clouds. It was ironic, how every time there was a heavenly downpour, it was only greyish white clouds that are up above. The lights were dimming, the play was now under the dark background. It was now a slow drizzly, but the gathering clouds promised of heavy downfall. Everything was resting, as the rain took a break, or waiting for the rain to get heavy. I can feel the heavier rainfall that is waiting to show up. But it has taken a pause now. It reminded me of the timing. They say everything happens at perfect timing.

Nothing is too late, nothing is too early. Everything happens right on its time. I loved the pause too, breathing in all, petrichor was in the air. It's gonna get heavier and there is a huge visual treat waiting for us. Strap in!!! It got darker and darker. It promises heavy rain, a mighty breeze with a touch of a distant roar. The rain clouds were closing in at the distance, making the previous play look like a prequel. It was silent, calm, and surprisingly quiet. Trees stood still, leaves too. There was no wind or breeze. Birds tweeted in the background. Nothing moved. Everything stood still as if the play had been placed. 

Image courtesy: Instagram: @restlessravenn

Introspection

Introspection is the analysis of one’s own emotional and mental thought process. It is necessary for personal growth. When we do not realize, acknowledge, understand, monitor, change or outgrow our thoughts and feelings, there is no room for growth. The worst scenario would be having lived an entire lifetime and staying the same person all through life. 

Monitoring our thought patterns, habits, emotions, feelings, the way one reacts to a particular thought, or situation, repetitive thoughts, negative feelings, anxiety, fear etc., has a reason for surfacing in the first place. We label them, push, ponder and never deal with them. 

Just take a moment and sit with your thoughts and emotions. Say, you are anxious and fearful- it means something is important. Ponder over it, try to understand why it is necessary and replace the anxiety with thoughts of hope and faith. Thoughts are like radio waves- when you want to change,  you should focus on the thought patterns rather than the outcome. Simply put, one cannot keep on thinking negative thoughts and expect positive results, and vice versa, when one keeps thinking positive thoughts, as per the law of attraction one gets positive results in life. 

Introspection is crucial. We are not under obligation to be the same person as who we were yesterday, or even a second ago. We make mistakes, sometimes we get ourselves stuck in a loop of negative behaviours, childhood trauma messes with our lives, and we are lost forever. But all it takes is to observe and monitor one’s ownself from a third-person perspective. 

Our mind is so over everything - it prevents us from realizing our own mistakes. Change itself is not an unpleasant thing. Change is necessary for growth. When you accept the flaws and the faulty thought pattern you kept repeating, you change. 

It takes a tremendous amount of willpower, and self-esteem to even begin introspection. The thing I  most fear is being the same person I was years ago. I want to learn, adapt, change, evolve positively. I want to learn from the experiences and apply the lessons I have learned along the way into my future. I want to help people if they are going through the same challenge that I was going through. I want to tell people that it is possible to break a toxic relationship, you can survive childhood trauma, and you can come out of the survival mode and start living your life. It is possible. The pain we endured, what we went through, instead of it being a terrible past, let it be a strong foundation for our better future. We are who we are because of our experience, pain, lessons, mistakes, good and bad, everything that shaped us. Let the pain we endured be something worthwhile. Allow something good to come from all the pain.  

The philosopher Plato asked, Why should we not calmly and patiently review our thoughts, and thoroughly examine and see what these appearances in us are?

Ms. Moon

When the pull of the moon makes ocean rage, and waters whitecaps, what hope do I have? On the full moon night of October, I stood on the damp roads staring at the night sky. It was late night, half past eight, I was on my way home. I stepped out of the car and was held captive by the marvelous sight, the Moon in full circle, too bright as if a torch had been held upside down from the sky. 

Since childhood, from the beginning of time, I have been drawn to the moon, for reasons unknown to my knowledge. I have always kept track of the phases of the moon, waxing phase, waning phase, full moon and new moon, I knew everything like current month, and year. 

Once I was at the ocean shore, late night, on the new moon day. The tide was high, waves were erratic due to the gusting force of the wind, it was pitch dark by the horizon. Again for unknown reasons, the sound of the waves crashing the shore, calmed my soaring heart. It radiated peace and tranquility. 

It was a full moon day. I came home and rushed to the terrace to witness this marvelous wonder. There were only a few stars visible. Bright, round and daring, the pull it exerted on me was otherworldly. 

Ms. Moon, are you lost? Why do you disappear from time to time? Why do you keep your whereabouts a secret? What do you whisper to the mighty ocean, for it rages high. What did you do to my little heart, for it flutters on your sight. 

Finally, even though there are so many mysteries surrounding reality, and  outer space, I am glad that you roam across the sky from time to time. Also, I feel better for disappearing from time to time because you do it too. 

Letter to the fluttering wonder

 Dear Butterfly, 

I wanted to write to you personally, there are so many reasons for writing to you. So let me begin the basic question that kept lingering inside my head for a while. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? I hardly doubt. You come out the cocoon and flutter around. But there is no way that you could have watched for yourself how beautiful you are. I have loved you, admired you and adored from the time I remember myself. 

I have been loving you since the beginning of time. I envy the freedom you own. You just flutter around endlessly, no questions asked. Out of all the creatures of nature, I loved you far more than anything else. You have that black magic that holds me spellbound. Whenever I see you flutter, I keep watching you, following you, as if you were a great deal of mystery to me. Maybe I adored you because I have been caged all my life, or I was denied freedom and held in control so far. 

Just watching you flutter would make my mood better my ten folds. In case no one told you, or in case you were wondering, or you had no idea, I wanted to tell you this “You are phenomenally beautiful”, I wish you knew this too. 

Grey clouds

 The sun shone through brightly. It was as if the world was brought to life only in the sun. It awakened a sense of freshly painted house, a new born orchid, lifted the soul in delight. Leaves were glistening in yellow or gold would be more appropriate. All the glitters are not gold. Yes, sometimes they are leaves. Wind breezing gently through the leaves, added a sense of awe in the morning air. Trees seem to be dancing with the wind. The blue painted sky, bright as a crystal, there wasn't a tinge of clouds to be found there. 

Terrific or drastic? What could be the right word to describe what happened next? Someone took a brush and painted the sky in white, no beige, or whiteish, or bluish. Nope, I can't describe that color with 26 lettered Language. The sky was not blue anymore. Leaves weren't glistening anymore. Everything was grey, and gloomy. The strands of grey clouds marched one after another, formed layer after layer until everything under the sky reflected it. 

I assumed that this could not be good at least in the context of nature. But to my surprise, birds came out of their nests and flew swiftly, the breeze, cold and humid brought Petrichor with the air. 

The sight was even more lively. It wasn't glistening gold or bright anymore, but it was still beautiful. The trees held out wide open as if welcoming the drizzle. It got darker and darker. Wind blows faster and faster. Everything was grey under the sky, nevertheless it was magnificent. Who thought grey clouds could bring so much happiness?