Walking Machines

We’re so engaged in doing things to achieve purposes of outer value that we forget that the inner value, the rapture that is associated with being alive, is what it’s all about. — Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth.

We can pretend to be machines, but the flow of thoughts and emotions is what makes us human. Life, yes, is indeed what we make it. Decorate it all you will with opulence and achievements, but the true prosperity lies in the peace, and in the understanding of letting things go. We keep aspiring for higher goals, greater luxuries because that’s what keeps us going, that’s what separates us from the non-living beings. Do we ever take a moment once in a while to question ourselves? We have become so blind in discerning our true motives, our actions fogged by our greed; our judgement clouded by our inability to see things clearly. Collecting valuables one after another was never really our motive. It’s a never ending race and there is a cruel world out there, to engulf you, hunt you, willing to tear you apart. We live in a culture of non-stop acceleration; a world that’s frenzied, anxious and competition-driven. Come to think of it, if happiness was really measured in moolahs, then we all would be ecstatic. Then why is that wiping someone else’s tears makes your heart mend a little? A loved one’s smile brightens our day more than those fancy lamps. Why the sound of the bells ringing at a temple brings us peace? Blessings from elders bring us more closure than anything else. Being in proximity to the nature makes us more calm and composed.

So where does this madness end?  Nowhere, really!  How do we resolve this predicament? We can’t! Except if we really want to get in touch with our human side and not let it get possessed completely by the robotic side. Like Charlie Chaplin in the Great Dictator said, “We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost….”

Learn to connect to your inner self, meet that gorgeous person that you are, everyday, even if it’s just for ten minutes. Do not be afraid of your own company. Do not recoil from it horror. We somehow believe that the moment we cease to act, we also cease to exist. Thus, our most revered and apparent sense of self is identified with anxiety and suspicion. Break free from your own shackles once in a while. Stop glorifying the materialistic pleasures of life and rather than being the sophisticated programmed devices that we have all become; be the beast that cannot be held in captivity, who knows how to live, to hunt in the wild, and drink from the streams.

“Act in the moment, live in the present, slowly don’t allow the past to interfere, and you will be surprised that life is such an eternal wonder, such a mysterious phenomenon and such a great gift that one simply feels constantly in gratitude.” ― Osho

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.” ― Henry David Thoreau

Quoting a poem by Pablo Neruda.

You start dying slowly
if you do not travel,
if you do not read,
If you do not listen to the sounds of life,
If you do not appreciate yourself.

You start dying slowly
When you kill your self-esteem;
When you do not let others help you.

You start dying slowly
If you become a slave of your habits,
Walking everyday on the same paths…
If you do not change your routine,
If you do not wear different colours
Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.

You start dying slowly
If you avoid to feel passion
And their turbulent emotions;
Those which make your eyes glisten
And your heart beat fast.

You start dying slowly
If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love,
If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain,
If you do not go after a dream,
If you do not allow yourself,
At least once in your lifetime,
To run away from sensible advice…

This is one life to live, and we do everything except living it the way our makers have wired us to. Let’s stop drifting with the wicked. Let ourselves flow, lose the clouds and gain the sky.

 

 

 

 

Desolation

She is standing on the terrace facing the flamboyant Gulmohar trees, and the wind that makes the branches quiver, makes her shiver a little too. Her eyes are half shut remembering the silent memories of the past. Holding onto them as she’s tied to them for eternity. Her arms wrapped around her as she lets out a deep breath. The moon is covetous tonight, wanting to devour everything in it’s wake, like her thoughts stick to her as a vine that dings to a tree seeking for sustenance.
Just then her locks get blown by gusts of wind. Brushing her long tresses back she looks up, and her face gets bathed in the moonlight, making her skin radiate, her dreamy eyes looking dreamier. She looks like a goddess in her floral dress that clings to her delicate and supple skin.
She feels like being both cursed and blessed. Her eyes staring at the blank and her lips trembling slightly. Sometimes she has a plethora of thoughts plaguing her, and at other times she feels empty. Although she doesn’t need a man to make her complete, yet she waits for love with her arms open, wanting to be swept off her feet. All that it is, is all she’ll ever need, yet a part of her doesn’t want it. Resisting what she is most afraid of. She has protected her heart by acting like she doesn’t have one. Ruthless, fierce and strong is how she has envisioned herself. She is so prim and proper, polished and cultured, yet she is attracted to rawness, crudeness, the unguarded way of living. There’s life in that.
And she wants to live. Not just survive.
She doesn’t want to be complacent, just breathing in and out. Being alive is so stagnant sometimes. Living isn’t about preserving our breaths or counting them; It’s about forgetting to breathe, delving into passions, swimming against the current and almost drowning. That’s what she wants to do tonight. She wants to drown brazenly, without pretense, without reserve and flow like a river. She wants to conquer her fears tonight and wants to gaze back at the moon with her eyes open, twinkling with craziness, wild and free.
A storm awaits somewhere out there, approaching her faintly. And she can smell the rain!