Pandora

Awakening

Living in the 21st century, while being its tiny point like a still moment stuck in time, I often wondered about a world free from what my fellow men (and their women) created all this while, living in the entire existence for as long as we, humans, have existed on this planet.

This search has always been the focal point for many, true, again like etched in their own respective points, the spawn-focal centre of all what they call life. For them and for me, life only is whatever I experience of it. I am the creator of my own life, just like all these people are (I really do not know if they’re ‘alive’).

Countless hours have been spent in search for an alien world, perhaps the occupants of which will make us realise the grand reality after all! Scientists and top dollar machines are out there, searching for their own little worlds. In our ‘home’, this Earth of ours, artists dwell too. They’re searching for something; Some random moment of clarity, an unknown experience, waiting to be unfolded by them. They’re the observers.

While I sat and wondered about these little specks of dusts, strands of cobwebs floating about in air because someone’s lost their home, something happened. I was searching for a place perhaps, that space where I can finally spread my arms wide open and quite literally, fly; there I was – before I could realise what happened, there opened a wormhole with just a tiny bit of light managing to escape through it. Just bright enough to make me realise of its presence, perhaps questioning me, challenging me and asking me “Do you dare?”, yet with lips sealed but fostering a glistering smile.

Little did the light realise for those without nothing, even the tiniest of hopes is a great prospect; One that saves lives.

I was there, in a new world. Almost alien, yet so much like home. Home- Is this finally the reality with all its filters dropped away, or a world which I perhaps originally belonged to, much like Kal-El’s?

Darkest of the bluest of skies, I wanted to fly. In an instant, they embraced me and opened up their chests.
“Fly, this is your home, you’ve been away for a long time, but you’re home.”

Free willing and curious, I banked and turned, climbed and looped, descended into a spiral and finally came back to the assurance of a soft ground to lay upon; So much to grasp, I zoned out and surrendered. The fresh air fed me, kept me full. Fresh fruits and so much food! “You’ll never again be hungry.”

An alien world can scare a lot of us. But is it the world which scared me or was it my own assumptions, imaginations, perceptions of ifs and whats and of wants and of want nots? The uncertainties of how things fold are dangerous parasites. “What if it kills me?”

I can never know. No one can, for that matter. Unless the present gets all its undue credit, things will never pan out the way we ‘expect’ they would; And where’s the fun in that? As I relished this freedom, this space I called home, the magic of which defeats the most glorious of books ever written and movies ever made; evolves. This place grows. And I must too. Acclimatizing to the new world through skills learnt from before, I will evolve.

There’s an order to chaos; the entropy always increases. It grows. I sit here in a hope that light shines on these focal points, and they finally see what they secretly have always wished for – An alien world, much like their home, maybe better at times. The place where they actually find themselves, etched upon everything images of them in all their glory.

“Everyone deserves their beliefs to get materialised, be made real. Even if it involves aliens and their standing up to their own nightmares.”

(For more posts like this, visit: Waiting Room)

The old leather jacket.

Life

The roots stretch out, after being cut over and over again, ever succeeding in reminding the world about how futile it is to resist and perhaps to give in. The forces of the universes govern in such a fashion that every permutation, every combination, those random events which we shrug off and all of those things which put us to one simple question: Do we believe in magic?

I’ve always believed there’s some element that we all over look, no matter how hard we try to see. This element, entity, force, thought, belief, call it whatever you want to; It is hidden in the moment when a single drop of sweat traces the back of your neck as you get nervous, the light in your eyes when you see a loved one and all the goosebumps associated with it. How can we see it? Certainly an experience it is then, yes? Or perhaps the very fabric which this world is made up of, and we, material beings, look under our shiny microscopes and through our highly advanced telescopes,  trying to find it. Does it not bring you to a laughter when you realise it just cannot be something physical?

It’s the innocence in children’s eyes, and that girl who you just walked past by. It’s in us, and oh how dormant it stays unless we simply start believing in its existence. Look at her, as she smiles at me, after countless days spent reading her words, trying to find my own existence in them. And how beautifully they all fit, like a physics’ definition; every word having a meaning, an existence, a need for it to be there. It all fits. She’s still smiling, as I continue being that insane nut, hoping again how she’ll summon up all the magical words she always is searching for, and put up a pretty story to this very moment. She’s still smiling at me, mind you. There are forces at work here, magnetic, dark matter floating through this space, working about its own magic and creating the world as it passes by. They tell you the story, and like the perfect handwriting to mesmerise the reader’s experience, her smile fills up the world around me, and that’s it. Everything, right there. The past, human existence, dinosaurs, the bloody milky way; They’re all here, and you’re aware. That fucking smile assures, like that hand on your shoulder, like the air traffic controller’s voice in a distress situation for the flight crew. (That makes me wonder about MH370 somehow, fuck it)

We all have those notions, things we’ve always wanted to do. That inkling feeling of something new to do. We hold that wish tight, and unless we find it, we rarely give up. For these ideas, thoughts define us. They’ve made us what we are. Made me what I am, right now. And yet, falling on the tips of the pine leaves how the rain drops find a perfect place, it all fucking fits! This universe has been moving, doing its own magic. We, walking on the ground, stuck onto it, lost in our useless chores, always doing things and running around, never realise it. What we see, is pictures. In a world fucked up with selfies, still moments, we’ve all lost the sense how everything is always moving. They’re making and creating the world for us while we merely witness the change. And foolishly, like drunken buffoons, think we’re the ones responsible. Of course we are, but through our actions. It in no way should stop us and make us limit our awareness to the mess around, and instead, stop and simply look up at the sky. Lose ourselves in its grandeur and its own magic. It only will come before you, if you are looking for it, that too, with all the belief. No room for doubts and back ups, here. There’s no “But what if we’re wrong?” You have one job. One fucking job. And it is to have a belief system, and to stick to it with no doubts whatsoever. In a place of doubts, fear arises. And once that happens, it plagues and kills.

Why can a simple smile not have the magic about it that it can’t fix up things?

All these thoughts and a billions of lifetimes later, one does eventually realises and just ‘gets’ it. So don’t worry, if not now, maybe a few cycles of life and death later, we all will too. This world, this universe, works on magic. Hold this thought, I said to myself. Hold it dear, nestled tightly upon your chest, clenched between your arms, embraced right next to your heart. Hold this thought. And what do I see? This Universe works for me! I am creating my world as I go on, and simply laid upon this simple thought, everything simply works for me, and I sit back and enjoy as it unfolds upon me. The universe this way, through me, is learning a very tiny aspect of its own creation. It’s learning itself. Like those permutations, I am one. And so are you. Maybe someday this universe, she’ll smile down upon you too. And assure you, that it just all fits.

Dream

Life

“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?”

They come true. They really do. One day you’re crashing into things, going unnoticed, clung on to vines infested by pest, scattered, diffused. And then, you find yourself dreaming. You wake up. Shrug your head. Pinch yourself. Go around your daily chores, always looking up at the skies, dazed, uncared about the simple fact that you do not know what you’re looking for. But you’re searching. You know something’s there. Something beautiful. Some random bliss, perhaps? No. Guess not. You’re looking for a dream. You’re still searching for it. It’s not a reality yet. Slap yourself. Bang your head on the wall until it hurts. Crash on your bed. Cry. As the months on the calendar pass you by. You’re alive. You’re grateful. You watch your step, yet you do not care anymore. You know nothing’s worth it, but you’re wrong. You must be, you know it too.

In a world full of scars, tears and notions of what nots, you feel out of place. Something’s not right. Is this life, or just a glimpse of a bigger reality? You’re definitely wrong. Unassuming, you move on. Linger, as time goes on and likewise you do too. It’s been a while, but you feel home. Has the time passed by? You’re tired. You need water as your throat clings onto the last bit of your bitter bile juice. You’re thirsty. Are you here? Look around, touch, feel and smell. It surely feels different. You begin to wonder what dimension you’re occupying right now. Things are changing. Ideas, beliefs are too. There’s a new world order in progression, and you’re a part of it. You’re responsible now, you feel the burden of thousands of restless souls who’ve not yet whispered their prayers, because they don’t know how to. They’re lost. You’re their hope. You’re their calling. There are greater things and forces at work now, and you’re merely a puppet. A mere witness, who can do nothing but just surrender, because any struggle will cause pain. Pain you despise. You’ve yearned for a change, you’ve worn the scars, you’ve seen freedom through them. But you linger on. You’re tough. People stare, they know not their ideas of you are wrong. They feel they can see you. Have the rights to talk about you. You’re their muse. They’re liars. Puppets like you, sure, yet only weaker, mortal physical beasts of burden, sickened by their very egos. They still stare. You stare back. You laugh, they flinch. Blinded, sleeping heavy pieces of bones and flesh, occupying space and time, polluting, excreting their opinions, unscathed by a simple fact that they are wrong.

But this, this is your dream. You’re the narrator, the actor, the very centre of attention. You’re the hero. The best part is, it becomes of what you believe in. You want happiness, you get bluest of skies full of popcorn clouds, sunlight beaming through them, yet it isn’t warm. It’s breezy, and you feel your hair blow upon your face. You’re happy. You smile. You shed a tear, and submerge in joy. Life is what you make of it, even if it’s a dream to you. You really can hit the F5. Yet where you land up next is a random roll of a dice. So do you real want to wake up? Or maybe your dream is your utter reality. Open your eyes, shut them even if you want to. It matters not. For you are beyond what you see, feel, experience. You’re beyond this realm, existing in parallel realities. You are looking down upon yourself and you’re happy. You’ve made mistakes, horrible ones at that. But you’ve learned from them. From waking up in the middle of the nights, spending in utter disguise of having slept actually, you’ve been terrible before. You’ve sat there wondering when these nightmares would end. You’ve sung songs, hummed them on your bike rides, sheltered in them when the times were hard to go by.

It really matters not where you come from. Your dream, it takes you places. You’re always going. To a better future. A better job. A good marriage. A new car. You want to travel. See places. What keeps you from being in all of those places? It’s you, yourself. You wake up, you know it was a dream. You don’t believe in them. Been a fool, always looking for ways to turn out to be cool. Look where you are. You’re stuck. You have plans. Oh yes you do. But life is happening around you, and you, blinded by your thoughts while you try so desperately to take time out for your own needs and not wants, you let it go unnoticed. Believe in things. These, your dreams, are your tools to carve the future as you go along. But, do not worry about it. Live here, in present. Dream, dream big. Because even when it’s those horrific nights with nightmares, you know there’s a way out. And it’s looking down upon you, waiting for it to be found by you. Your dreams are your bliss, your joy and your happiest treasures. Go find them. And when you do, you will get reassurances, in every single step you take. Reassurances, that you’ve been on the right path all along. It’s always working towards one singularity, and you’re a part of it. Everything around you carves you, as you carve the very things that surround you. You’re infinite in these moments, and the very forces that have created you now protect you. You know they do. And when such things happen, you find yourself lofted upon a hilltop, looking around knowing everything is the very soul of you. The mountains, the valley below, the tiny red dots of the tail lights of distant vehicles whose sounds may not reach to you, but the very pulsating pistons, moving in synchrony with time, the very heartbeats of yours in a perfect unison, these things that occupy space in this universe, and beyond, is all you. And you’re responsible now, for your dreams now have led to your very liberation; and all of which lies in the very thought, the single choice you made to start believing in your dreams.

Yuanfen

Awakening, Life

“Follow me down to the valley below
You know, the moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul”

As I sit here, in an absolute admiration, unerring awe of every moment that passes me by, all I feel is this undiluted, unmitigated love for you. Because its in you that I see myself. All my fears. All my worries. All my laughters, tears, falls, victories, achievements and each and every moment that I’ve sat here, bewildered if there’s an end to this seemingly endless sorrow that plagues our world. It’s in you that I find the courage to carry on. Hope. And dream. You after all, the very construct of my world. The world as I see it, experience it in each breath that I take. Each wrong turn that I make. Every summer when I sweat and every winter when I shed my old skin and take rebirth. Rejoice. It’s my world after all.

The very strain of this world is embedded with this very love that I speak so highly of. I’ve experienced it. I’ve wanted to express it, when I saw you curl up into a ball and cry. When you sit by the window and watch the world go by. In every heart break that you put through, in every grain of sand that moulds you. Those long, empty hearted walks on a dark, cold, november night, When your walk had been too long and the sun shone above your head, lambent up high. The rainy nights when you’ve achhoo’d, in every judgment you mistook. I’ve been there. Witnessing it, watching my self unfold through you. I love you. I always have. We share the same fate, do we not? We’ve materialised our souls into this world, at the same time, to work together for our growth. To rescue ourselves. From ourselves. Through our very selves. It’s why we’re here. In this very time. Together, existing, getting reborn in every second. Because all what’s there in this world, in this universe and in this very physical, material creation, is this very moment.

There IS no past. There’s no future. It’s all but a construct of our minds, the way we’ve perceived our experiences, how we’ve understood them. And how we can expect them to be like, depending on our very actions. It’s nothing in there but pain and misery, because our actions themselves haven’t been up to the mark. Do you feel the guilt? You see the moments you’ve lied flash before you. Times when you’ve stolen something. The truth, from someone. Love, too. When you haven’t shared how much pain you’re in, how you wanted the time to just pass by. When your dreams ceased to materialise. Cried, a lot, haven’t you? It’s funny how we all share similar themed events which just take place in different times in our lives. Because in all these parts we’ve lived within each other. Experienced the world in the same way, however briefly. Because it’s our world that we share after all. Why must it all yet be different in the end? We weren’t born at the same time. Neither will we die. But these moments, which have faith in our souls, recreate us, give birth to us and reassure us in a peculiar way, that it all seems very comforting; That we’re here now. And we must work together. Embody each other, engulf in an eternal, just, endless, truthful, faithful love. Ever so working for each other, through each other because we MUST realise that all these moments have put faith in us, that we’d work exactly the way it all does. Through these forces that are beyond our comprehension, forces that give us courage, faith and an everlasting sense of happiness when we work for each other.

Sit, one day, at notice someone in an endless pain. Look at Mrs. Drudgers. Her husband’s left her. Her kid gets bullied at school and the teachers don’t help either. Her sister’s married to a hotelier in Hawaii, and hasn’t called ever since she got married. The employers don’t pay enough to live through a winter without having the heater bills over due three times. Observe how she sits at the fireplace which hasn’t been lit since forever, staring blankly at the charred, broken tiles at the back and wonder how her life’s turned out the same way. Wouldn’t you want to just hug her and hold her hand, reassuring how you’re here now? Let’s walk a bit. Let’s breathe. But wait. Here’s little Tim. He’s 13. He hasn’t seen his dad. Ever. His little brother can barely talk. His mother, Mrs. Bates, slogs 10 hours at a cloth factory to barely provide her kids 5 days’ meal. Her husband went out to get milk one night and never returned. They learnt he was stabbed 18 times that night. But Tim, he’s a strong lad. He comforts her mother, he sees and connects with the same pain. He bites his lips so hard sometimes that they bleed, for he mustn’t shed a tear. He’s strong, he knows. He likes to read though. But he’s just one book. Never has he had enough money to buy one. He gets his pocket money though, yet he puts it in his piggy bank, to save for his brother’s treatment. He sits in the playground at school, near the cherry tree, while the other kids play football. He sits, he cries. Here he can, no one’s watching him.

You relate to these events. It makes you wonder of all what seems like injustice in this world. But would you rather sit and continue to wonder without arriving anywhere, or get up and take little Tim to his favourite football club’s match and buy him ice cream? It’s in our very nature to love, because we connect. We’re here, bridged and sewn together in every tiny second, being mere puppets, dancing to the tunes of the very source that governs us, governs all eternity. You and I are the same thought, idea, just expressed in different ways. In order to be perfect, everything must cater to the better resolve of this very creation, every deed done in harmonious way. Through love. Through its own self. Why must we be any different? Well, we can. But then we’ll perish, like everything that has failed to understand this very thought. It is this perishing force which allows our egos to act instead let our very core soul take control. It is then we begin focusing on the outcomes instead of the very force which creates. We lose sight of our actions, we hurt each other. Individualise. Don’t let your ego take a hold of you. It’s not your true nature, which is of eternal and unbound love and acceptance of each other. It’s this acceptance of each other which contributes towards, and enhances this pious grand scheme. After all, through this very oneness do we Evolve. And isn’t evolution the very way everything works? The very world that we share evolves in every breath of ours. It would cease to exist the moment there’s no exhale to your inhale. Love, would you rather not then? Be mesmerised, and yet constantly materialise into a better being, experience this love through the act of loving itself? It’s a beautiful world that we’ve got, only love feeds its soul. Let it Evolve.

The inception

Awakening, Life

Dwelling on the past.
Worried about the future.
Tensed in present.
And oh how reassuringly you say you’re alive.

The existence in heart beats if you measure, why not ridden on bed, asleep throughout your life would you call being alive?

Measure yourself, but in present. Each breath coming out of your lips when you heave a sigh, every flicker of an eye as the time passes by, stay alive. And feel the grace of being alive. Isn’t that enough to bring you to a smile? Why O’ child, then would you cry? Lost in the memories of the world passed by?

I need you alive. I want you alive. Living, breathing, dancing, cherishing in all your glory, the very you behold within your troubled mind. For what it’d bring, would be an overwhelming sense of denouement. The ultimate truth. Your precious purpose. Funny part is that there is no secret to it. Be like the cow silently and with utter patience which grazes over the green pastures. Unbothered, about how much time has passed. Omnipresent. She’s here. You can be too. Oh, wait. There but is a secret. Well, not to those who followed beloved Dr. Einstein closely. Time is merely a cage our minds have constructed around us, limiting our very existence. Infinite wisdom and higher energies are beyond the realms of our petty minds. Limited is what we all are. Time hence merely defines these boundaries within which we must carry our chores before we go. Go. “Oh but where?” you’d ask. And why would you not? Go beyond these boundaries. Liberate..

Resonate with me. Together, works magic. Tiny little thing, a carbon atom for example, isn’t capable enough to even dream about a world. Let alone a world where Life would evolve. Is it conscious? Yes. Embedded within it is a strict code. Of togetherness. The amber hue which wakes you up in your room has its origins unfathomable miles away. The very source of Light, our little Sun. Embedded within it is the same code of togetherness too! Like the carbon atom, hydrogen atoms come together and create energy, the very source of your natural morning alarm. Life just glows as it bathes in the golden hue of the morning Sun, doesn’t it? But our hydrogen doesn’t stop there. It yet comes together with our never forgotten carbon and plants the seeds of Life. Look how these two created the world around us, created me and created you. Alike, similar, convergent, uniting and specks of dust are we. Why not together we all must then be? In harmony, with love and guilt free?

Hold on. Breathe. Come back. Look around. In accord forget you can, we have ceased to exist in the same space and time. Spaces are physical. Worry about it must you not. But time is a cruel, misery filled, haunting of a concept. Unless we both are here, together, in resonance, in tune, coupled, hinged and bridged, dreaming about a place in this world which’d be your Home would be all too foolish an ask. Present you need to be. Here. Hands held, lips pursed and hearts pounding, while time emanates by, within ourselves we’ll find happiest of Homes, hopes and dreams, treasured Universes where times freeze. Liberate shall we be, like those cows, grazing on a hilltop merrily. The truth reveals itself, not through a spectacle, never through a debacle but through you it finds itself. You are the truth. There’s no better evidence of Life being the most beautiful thing to ever happen through consciousness than you yourself. You are the ultimate. You are the truth. Find yourself, by being here. Existing in every word that comes out of your mouth, in every dream which elevates your tertiary senses when you sleep, through every tear you weep. For only Present negates the need of a world with time reining it. Every action becomes effortless and righteousness becomes your default virtue. Call it liberation would you not, when you and I unite as one, grow consciously, to a higher realm? Only as one do we Evolve.

Synchronise. Hold my hand and take the dive. Close your eyes. You don’t need to see where you’re heading to. The very origin of the thought of taking the plunge comes to our minds effortlessly. It is the gut feeling which reveals our true selves. Would you trust your own self then? Doubt kills you.

Be here. Still. Ride the wave of time. Make it your puppet. Be the mistress. Latent. Hear your breaths? Ride them with me. Be quiescent. Notice the stillness around you. Notice me noticing you. Observing you. I’ve always been here. You’ve too. We existed in all time. Are you aware of me now? Let your words out. Notice how the space around us creates the perfect place for your words to fit in. To make them aware. Stay still. Calm down. Relax. Take a deep breath. Feel the warmth as I engulf you. Shield you. Yet like a balloon when filled with air, allow you to grow. Should be the very nature of every soul, every mind and every body on this planet to provide for one another. This is how we grow. This is how we evolve. Together. It all works magic.