Beauty

All that people want to create is something of beauty. Something perfect, immaculate, pristine, pure. And they succeed too, if most of them, in the end do beget a child, thats exactly what they have created. But the child also inherits the imperfections and failings and genetic predispositions towards improper tendencies. And over and above that, the parents also fail, almost always, to give perfect upbringing to their kids and they turn then, less than perfect.

Its an infinite cycle that we repeat. Have repeated, will do, ad infinitum.

Those who deviate from this way of creating beauty. Those who dedicate themselves to some other pursuit, their work, their passion, their bodies, anything other than focusing on the whole plan to create beauty through reproduction, also end up creating things which might be perfect and pure and beautiful in the beginning, but which deteriorate and degrade deform and become totally different than what they started off of as.

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In this, we have to understand, is the basic fact. The act of creation is not supreme in itself or the final one. Its the act of maintenance that goes a long way in keeping things in order. Its not as much as cleaning your room but keeping your room clean. Because we all are fighting against attrition by entropy and in this battle, creating things of beauty is not enough. You have to invest energy in it even after the creation in form of fixing it and keeping it in its form.

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The individual in the mob, going on a Witch-hunt in the 21st Century

You are a kid, running around the fields with wide open eyes, letting all the lights and colours and happiness to pour in through those windows to your soul, enriching it, making it fuller. People are simple, they look at you and smile, almost all of them do, unless they themselves are far beyond redemption. No one lies to you, at-least not directly. Everybody likes you and wants to play with you.Life is good.

You slowly start to grow up. You enter the school system, meet and make friends there. Most of them are starting off with as simple and honest hearts as yours. They share their breakfasts with you, play and stick by you as much as they can. Junior school still has a certain glow in form of that ignorance and innocence burrowing through from much earlier childhood , still not tarred with the things yet to come.

You move to high school, you start seeing people around you change. By the time they start growing hair on their faces, you observe them caring less about things they earlier seemed to care about . From honesty to true friendship to reciprocity in relations, all of these things start to turn and twist and take malevolent forms(at-least in your eyes) and you are looked down upon and laughed on, for still believing in things that you do, and are labelled ‘naive’ and ‘a loser’ for trying to stick by whatever was pure and genuine in you.

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But the fact is that all this while, for all the time you have been trying to remain pure, those same vices you despise around you, sneaks in your subconscious through the backdoor, making their way in and laying dormant there. The more you hate it outside and see it in other people, the stronger it grows inside you, taking control of who you are. It grasps and squeezes out the life from whatever that you might’ve wanted to protect, that thing for which you started all this charade in the first place. And then at one point that which you are keeping inside, the low flame, engulfed in all the darkness that has grown around it which you yourself have facilitated, extinguishes, and that’s it. At that point the devil enters your soul. Despair and fear enters too, which soon transform into panic and insanity . Most of the times it is misdirected and misguided and generally comes out in form of disillusionment, insomnia and irrational and impromptu rage. But then one of these days, or rather nights, because its midnight and you lie twisting and turning in your bed, unable to sleep, you see an angry mob chanting and marching through, outside your home, with pitchforks and burning torches. You jump out of your bed and ask one person in the mob where they are headed. He questions back in amazement, “Don’t you know.. ? that witch who lives down the street, it’s all her fault, why we are so lost and why our town is in such misery.”

 

The smoke emanating from the place where your flame once glowed, tries to restrict you, tries to stop you, but how can a burnt out flame lighten better judgement? It doesn’t exist. So you get in the mob, rather gleefully and someone hands you another one of those torches. Your transformation is finally complete. You have reached the end of your road.

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Every living Nihilist is a Narcissist

Sometimes we feel troubled not because we have thought up some bad thought. Or are afraid of something outside of ourselves. No, none of that, what we are actually scared of, is facing up to the facts, to articulate, truly, what we are feeling and have experienced, because any such articulation would conform to whatever we intuitively already know. And the actual pain is in that minute understanding of our own unique miserable situation.

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But what are you supposed to do, when the actual trouble that you are facing is, is to decide how to think about all of that in the first place. Which interpretive framework to apply to correctly, or in nearly correct ways, explain all that is happening to you. If your trouble is that you are afraid to articulate that you actually don’t know, or more appropriately, cant tell about anything with any surety ? A person, who faces the latter kind of problem is more lost ,lost and adrift, in life, than the kind whose problem is that of the former type.

Because the second kind of person is a faithless man, in the truest sense of the word. Not an atheist, not a sceptic, NO, none of those, but a true nihilist. And such a person is, if living, would be a narcissist. Because when there are no abstractions he can conjure up to believe in, his default biological settings take over, and that too in the extreme, and the straightforward answer for him is to be selfish and egoistic and narcissistic to survive and continue living as a nihilist. There are no other ways for him to be.

I am not saying every narcissist is a nihilists but every living nihilist is a narcissist.

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Hope is a Sad thing

You shouldn’t have come to me at this point in my life. I was barely holding on to things to live for, to survive from one day to another. Knowing about all of my inadequacies and inefficiencies , trying to find words to explain my specific predicament. Lost, withering away at my core, barely holding on to the hope that I can still make things work, somehow. That there are people out there whom I know, who are co-passengers with me in the same train wreck that we know as life. That somehow I can connect with people who I know would understand me, because they are, well, for lack of better words, more like me.

But you came, as a sudden gush of cool air on a hot and humid summer night. Soothing and comforting but still laden with the knowledge of the fact that its not permanent, but temporary, that it will pass, and leave in its wake, a more insufferable world, with the hotness and humidity setting back in and taking me by my throat, choking me, suffocating me, as I struggle and gasp for air, as it is slowly squeezed out of my body and my systems start to shut down and I wonder whether I can even survive for another moment. The biology and the physical materialism of the world starting to dictate their dominance on the highfalutin abstractions of ideas, thoughts and philosophies and notions of truth, love and other such bullshit which means so little when life slowly starts to detach itself from the body. And in the end, what is life itself but cell activity and interactions of chemicals and nothing more than that?

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To see in these realisations, not only the follies of my own past, but even the futility of my new understandings  I was trying to pick up, and trying to frame whatever kind of life I was, with the pieces of my broken past, which laid shattered at the feet of my own ignorance and my own narcissism(around which my current life, or semblance of it, revolved), thinking it can be amended and corrected. But I see how petty and how insufficient is,even all of this new understanding, that I claim I have gathered. All too inefficient and inept, just like I am, and how Hope is not only sad but a really bad thing.

Writing

What is that which needs expressing ? Things inside you, facets of your personality, that are, because of one reason or another, subdued, lie suppressed. At least that’s how writing, ,or keeping a diary, works for most of the amateurish writers out there on the “interwebs”, on corners of our common collective consciousness, where people seldom visit them and where the plain merit of the content has less importance than the cathartic value it holds to those writing it. Same goes to hundreds of thousands of blogs published on a regular basis, and also to this one that I am running here.

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Very rarely, writing brings out the best and the most developed parts of a person’s persona, so to speak. And when it does, then that shines through, as a diamond amongst the heap of other coal blocks. These are ‘ diamonds’ whom we follow and adore as writers and poets and storytellers and visionary thinkers.

As for those other ones who are left, those other blocks of coal, don’t for a moment make the mistake of confusing them with the ones that hold promise or hope or potential of any sort of beauty or shine, but rather, see them and acknowledge them as blocks of darkness, which are hollow shells of complete blackness absorbing any and every spark of light, joy and positivity in and around them.

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Life is misery… But then it is so much more of the same(On Cockroaches and Dodos)

Life is tough. Its hard to get by in life with any certainty for what fate awaits you. Its a burden which is borne by each and everyone of us. But some of us chose to, or rather try to, “opt out”of it. Try to become fence-sitters and watch it from a distance. Never partaking in it , but only commenting, speculating for what it is actually. The plethora of “writers” you see, the ones like me, writing away their nights on their pretty, little blogs which reach , in comparison to their efforts, virtually no one , are doing just this. Speculation and observation. But the thing about life is, its not supposed to be tackled that way.

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Granted life is misery, and not just that, its a relentless affront on your sanity, but all that is to test you. To test your limits, your braking points, your potential. Beings which don’t labour under the burden of misery are more vulnerable to destruction than those which have survived all forms and kinds of suffering in the past. In the end, at a point, you have to ask yourself this question, “Given a choice, what would you want to be, a Cockroach or a Dodo ?”

Winter Skies

There is a certain hue to the winter skies. Even on those sunny days, when its all blue and vast in its mejestic expanse, as you look above at it, standing alone, or with friends, somewhere in an open field, with mildly cold, but pleasant, winds surrounding you from all sides, you can feel the skies having this, kind of a character, to it.
Like faded color on a canvas, with the blue giving way to the yellowish and white on the edges, as your vision moves more towards the horizons, you notice them actually covered in chrome, or a dull blue at best.You see the whole sky filled with twirling particles, atleast in your vision, and beyond that, a sense of well being prevails in your soul,something that which you can not shed, atleast on these sunny days, which might’ve come after a streak of gloomy, clouded months, during which you were struck in your house as the world outside went into a quiet slumber.

But even now, on these sunny days, its as if that sullen world overlays itself , as a weak filter from the past, on your frame of the here and now, and makes you feel sad thinking about it, yet cheerful in a way… grateful , thay those days are over and now you can bask yourself in the winter sun and spring might be just around the corner.

Travelling

You are sitting in a vehicle and always looking toward the front , of things coming your way, or you anticipate them coming your way. Never looking at the things passing you by.

 Those things which you are anticipating to come, approach slowly at first, then rush towards you and pass you by in a blip, but by the time they approach you, you have already lost interest in them and your focus of attention has shifted towards the next upcoming thing. This is the basic difference between a child and a grown up travelling in a vehicle. While the child is mostly enamoured by his immediate surroundings, the thing passing him by in the present moment, adults are not. And even for this they are not to be blamed, they have already lost their keen senses of perceptions, needed to live in the here and now, long back, and even if they try to focus on their present surroundings, they won’t be successful due to their short attention spans.

Love Saves

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There is a redeeming value to Love. Even if we might be unaware of it, it exists.Requited, unrequited, accepted, unaccepted, distant, near, even fake love. Yes,even if Love is faked, just for the jest of it, would start changing you in ways you could never imagine. It would start opening neurological pathways in your brains and would make you look for possibilities and options and hope in places where you might’ve overlooked it, or not even thought of could’ve ever expected to exist int the first place. It gives you courage to grapple with the meaninglessness of existence in constructive ways.It gives you a motive to exist in this cruel world,giving you mode to exist in all the absurdities of life, it makes existence and thousands of its discontents, bearable.

A lot of troubled and resentful people around the world who do all kinds of horrible things to themselves and people around them, are just unloved, seeking it in their own ways, no matter what that might mean to them. Unloved people do things which make the suffering of existence worse than what it already is.  Our aim should always be to lessen it, not to add to it as it is as bad as it is, in itself.

Paradox of Life

I see a spider dying on the walls of my bathroom. I open up the shaft and lights of my bathroom for that whole night.The next day i see 5 dead flies in the web of that spider. What is it?

 

Have I done a sin or a virtue? or above all, What I’ve done ,given or taken “Divine Life”?7856169608_c9d44d0b5d_z