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.

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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.