9.9.9

eddi vedder says it better....

"Take Leave
the conscious mind
Found myself
to be so inclined

Why sleep
in discontent?
Oh the price
of companionship

My shadow runs with me
underneath the Big Wide Sun
My shadow comes with me
as we leave it all
we leave it all Far Behind

Empty pockets will
Allow a greater
Sense of wealth

Why contain yourself
Like any other
Book on the shelf

My shadow lays with me
underneath the Big Wide Sun
My shadow stays with me
as we leave it all
we leave it all Far Behind

Subtle voices in the wind,
Hear the truth they're telling
A world begins where the road ends
Watch me leave it all behind

Far Behind"

raising a toast

Cheers to another year!

saying without words:4

(using a poor 2 megapix cam on my cell)

a bend in the road

awkwardly alone

blowing in the wind

a brook in a valley gorgeous

mind that existentialism

The futility of any idea lies in the sacred belief of its executionability. Also the futility of a mind lies in its endless churning of such ideas. Come to think of it, every day or perhaps every waking hour in our life, we ideate (i abhor this word though). The subconcious like an OS keeps running these ideas as processes in the background. Like I am typing on the key board but alongside my mind is churning ideas at rate rivalling the reproduction rate of mosquitoes.

An existential veiw of life would suggest, that by extension ideas are basically a measure as well as a reflection upon the human existence and the conditions of its existence, rather than having a more obfuscated genesis in an undefinable essence of humans.

However, a closer look reveals that even though the existential principle is applicable to most of the ideas getting germinated in the mind, but there is a certain set of ideas popping up which do not really seem to have been derived from any direct or indirect condition of our existence. For example, what do we call the sudden idea of jumping into the sky while looking into the reflection of it in a small shaving mirror. Suddenly, that small non descript mirror is like a secret doorway to a mystical escape, a window to a free fall into the great blue abyss, i recall feeling queasy in the stomach, peeking into that mirror and seeing the sky deep down below, almost a thrill as if of descent on a giant wheel. An idea so strong that it generated a reflex response of anxious thrill from the body.

I got another such idea earlier, the fecund mind overworking when it should instead have been in hibernate mode like the body. The far fetched quixotian nature of the said idea made me wonder from where does the mind come up with this stuff. Then

I cornered Kafka, Dostovyesky and so many more who have expounded an approach to life driven only by what we are and what our experiences as a human have been, people called that existentialism over the years, but the whole premise is challenged by the existence of these out of the world ideas in the mind, if life is only about what we are and what we learn, then how does the mind generate ideas, one never experienced, saw or heard about before.

What is the basic tenet? Is life only about experiences and knowledge gained through human existence? Or is there an obscure, unexplainable something which influences our existence, our thoughts and sometimes our actions.

hand in the cookie jar : 1

Lets talk about that day in life

deserts waded by sudden winds from north

lets talk about the levitation of heart

body entrenched firmly on the ground

the wondrous scene within the gaze

the overflowing soul in the fizz of joy

lets relapse tonite to the flights of fancy

gliding across all the great divides

lets relapse into those verdant green fields

overflowing with golden wild flower dreams

the endless sea of gold and green

conquerer alone and the envious mean

the shot of vigour and elation straight into the soul

the underdog joyous from a long dreamt triumph

lets walk down the deserted boulevard of joy

exulting within on all conquests bygone

lets walk along that starlit parapet

holding within the bursting river of joy

those waves of silk flaming through halo's of light

those slihouttes of stairways straight up to the skies

evanescent joys along the road of life

disappearing fast as I burn the miles

a promise to cherish this journey of life ,

the small gifts of joy, scattered & hidden along the road

Some gone by and some waiting for me way up ahead

a four to that '99

It was in the days of the crazed sun, when I could fly on the wings of my soul

It was in the days of the wondering nights, that I could fly on the wings of my soul

It was in the lost days to dreams, that I could see the present so real

It was in the long nights of toil, that I could feel the present so real

It was in the haze of those dusks, that sometimes shows the orange of the sun so clear

It was in the solitude of my own soul, that sometimes showed the orange of the sun so clear

Remember, sitting on those stairs so lost, watching the distant sun so near

Remember, still those dreams in this heart, watching the distant sun so near

Remember, the days and the times of wander, feeling this heart & head as one

Remember, the youth and the illuminated thoughts, felt this heart & head as one

Remember, still the looney longings, of a heart so entrenched within my soul

Remember, the moistness in the eyes springing, for a heart so entrenched within my soul

Longing, days full and nights long, eyes strained to seek the end of the dark

Longing, but lost forever now, those clear lights at the end of the dark

Calling, oh those tolls of the future bells, the brimming heart was so full of hope

Calling, now the closing bells, each day I leave behind an empty till

Longing, enchantment and magic in my thoughts, those long lost nights under the darkened skies

Longing, still , oh all these long lost nights under the darkened skies

Faith, entrenched so deep within the psyche, I seeked my gods with an open heart

Faith, caught in quick sands of time, I seek my gods as the last clutch of hope

Toasting the four to that ninety nine,
reminisce the endless summers of the youth so fine.

Angel & the haunting unsaid

Forever tied in knots of pain,
conscience burdened by many a stain;
undone by a restive heart,
many a road, but never a start;

Crazy sharp winds in my head,
this strange voyage just doesn't end;
to many head winds and against the tide,
still I spread my net endless wide;

A silhouette in the darkened grey air,
the ethereal the real the flaming hair;
a halo and the shine of diamonds in those eyes,
an angel, at last heard these silent cries;

See through my porcelain soul,
for everything that's in there foul;
hear this strain of melancholy for once,
played  with loves one last ounce;

lips utter the blasphemous unsaid,
hearts blood in my eyes unshed;

Alas the words come out without a sound;

This long hard road I traverse alone,
unbeknown that prayers too need to be said;

Angel will I ever know,
that light did shine once upon my soul;
oh how I seek redemption now,
tell me in your crazy world;
if the crazed ever understood the unsaid?

Naivete of dreams revisited

Frog being kissed into a prince is a story often heard, but pushing thirty if one see's such a thematic dream, a vibrant and unobfuscated one at that, an evidence of the subjects latent utopian subconcious ,it starts to push credulity to the wrong side of tolerance.

This morning I was subjected to one such, I guess like a bollywood vaudeville, a full two hour technicolor mix of emotions and villains. The clarity of thoughts, the actuality of characters and their lives and the beauty of some, made it feel life like. Infact, I suspect, just before the waking up kicked in the reality, I must have had an angelic smile pasted on my lips.

the vision of walking with the angel of lore,

the world sparkling seen through those eyes,

as if a magic wand of joy in that smile;

Life's path rekindled with light,

and that promise to traverse it to the end, by my side;

Dejavu, as if I had ever actually walked with angel's in some distant past.All those disparate old hopes suddenly gelled into a living canvas of an immaculate hitherto unrequited bliss.

Bewildered by this sudden evidence of infallibility of the dreams seen with open eyes, this sudden insight into the depths of my own subconcious, this challenge to the norms & sagacity of this world. This pertinacious will of dreams to survive, even though crushed & buried deep under the ever altering realities of life.

An impossible fabrication of peace and contentment painted with colors springing from the ingenuity of this mind, a testimony to the the exuberance of human heart, the eternal sanguineness of our soul.

Guess just another reminder of the faraway never ending horizons of hope?

A reminder to hang on, maybe life's got sunny surprises past the cold cloudy roads?

Ah the poignant reality? it was just a dream neverthless.

melting snowflakes

a singing voice in the faraway woods
last night i saw dreams in those woods;
stars hanging on sleeping trees
streaks of lights in the darkened leaves;
a sailing moon on the black blanket of  night
a melody of flutes struck in those woods;
no hopes of spring, no want for sun
an infectious peace pervasive in woods;
distant calls from the depths of the woods
faraway from cities, still so many crowds deep in these woods;
wonder why the path of light
banked so deep into the dark;
a singing voice in the faraway woods
last night i fell asleep in the woods

State of Mind?

Sitting and loosing my touch,waiting for an angel to come or is it that I wait for nothing at all, cause when i think if it is worth waiting for an angel,

the thought and its genesis make me feel like a jerk.

Struggling they say is just another state of mind,but who's to say what makes one fight so much
and then feel it was all for nothing.
It is this feeling i have of worthlessness, of non achievement, it refuses to go away
sometimes I go to one place and start thinking about another, a sense of depravity, a sense of senselessness envelopes my psyche.
How much i dream and how less i achieve,satisfaction they say is a state of the mind
but then didn't they say the same about struggle?
I struggle for satisfaction
does that mean its all just in my head?
trying to go from one state to another?
is it just about reaching from point a to b?
is it?

But then how can u reach anywhere if all one is doing is jogging at stand still, well that's about it i have found the expression for what i am caught in!
I am caught in a quick sand, i feel i am running, running hard
but never able to get anything out of the damn running in physical terms
haven't moved an inch.
Guess i am caught in this time wrap for many years now
run.. run harder i tell myself
but what about the quick sand below the feet
would it be easier if i could just say jump ahead and leave the quick sand behind?
me and myself talk about these things often
often have i planned and analyzed my jumps

that's where the thought of angels comes in..

i pray, fervent and honest
for redemption, for growth, for movement;
but then isn't god and the belief in his existence also just a state of mind?
I pray, to whom? to what effect? to what consequence?
Could it be, that its just in my head that prayer can redeem my stupid existence?
But then hasn't this been the basic tenet, a fundamental belief of my life.
But what more is a belief than just a 'state of mind'?

,

Wonder how easily everything in this life is attributed to an unknown, abstruse, unexplained little something called a 'state of mind'

saying without words

saying without words (reprise)

Flying moments of a dying day

another something left behind forever

this bridge across forever

I am still looking for the answers

I am still searching for the key

Sometimes I wonder, if only,for days I could wander

I am on this road; curvy, broken, muddy, bending over this rugged mountain on a cool dusky evening; the last strands of orange in the sky are telling me that the sun is fast loosing its struggle to stay afloat in the vast open ocean of sky.

I am on this bend on the road, from where I can see the dirty mud stream a few hundred meters below, beyond where the root of the mountain is; the orange light from the struggling sun, the reddish brown color of the soil and the dark brown gray rocks.

I am on this strange plane; where conscious and unconscious mingle; where the road to lucidity meanders into a swamp of dreams; where sometimes one finds a few drops of solace for the thirsty soul.

I am on this unknown latitude; where topography alone is not strange; where thirst is every where around.

Staring blank into these moments, endless only if they would be. The darkness of the night seems to grow on me slow; like weed crawling slowly in the blood.

Lost I turn around and march, rev up the engine and head back to life.


(seen on the way to heaven)

Not all those who wander are lost

How often can you get a time in your life, when there is no objective for thoughts, no end in mind, no pressing depressions and more importantly you kind off relish such a period.

Such periods come seldom in one's life. these days I am in this perfect week or so to vegetate. I dont even need to think about any specifics, so I have conciously let go of my worry hat and future mongering. Result is that I am strolling at leisure through the labyrinths of what ever my sub concious pops into my mind.

I am completely enjoying it.

I have thought about my aspirations(mostly sky high in every aspect). But this is more of a time when I am tending to kind off come up with a score board of my present vis a vis my aspirations.

Needless to say, that the score is pathetic the statistics would have almost depressed me at most times, but that is where this period is so special. I dont really seem to take to heart anything, I am levitating, knowing the reality but neverthless not getting bogged down by it.

I am still not even close to contentment,but still I am not worried, guess it is in simple language called maturity? but you would understand my wonder, if you knew how thoroughly immature I am always at managing my aspirations.

But all this seeming stagnation in my movement towards my aspirations, hardly seem to bring the usual bout of restless depression.

May be I am just getting old and more and more reconciled to this stagnation, but the moment this thought comes in my mind, I know its incorrect, because I havent reconciled or given up at all. So what should I attribute my behavior too?

I think it is maturity; but that word itself terrifies me, 'cause hundreds of times I have been told I am immature by people who dont understand my aspirations. So to say that I am maturing is to in effect acquiesce to the fact that my aspirations are all anyways unrealistic. Which again is such an incorrect inference, that I almost typed incorrect in capital letters.

SO this is the quandry I am in, wonder wonder and wonder what is it that has changed in me as a person, something has for sure. But I cant really put a finger on it yet.

If you don't know where you are going, any road will take you there.

-----Soul beetle----

In what can only best be described, as a chance meeting; I ran into my soul beetle yesterday.

The doleful creature expectedly was flying drunk and numb around, I almost had to restrain my tongue from shouting; incarcerate that bug for drunken flying. But then logic got the better of me, after all in this dog eat dog world there ain't much chance of the air being crowded with soul beetles.

It happens between us, each time we have these chance encounters, we indulge in a lot of soul talk, about many things; destiny and karma; decadence and nirvana; and many more of these seemingly mystical 'things/words/concepts' we get to hear every now and then. Somehow each of these meeting's typically end on a mutually abusive and explicitly sarcastic note. Each accusing the other of 'pontification' or 'selling out'.

If I was Cinderella and this life was under that before midnight spell, me and my soul beetle might just have cohabited in peace.

---Questions---

What defines a man and the myriad thoughts, dreams and fantasies that our heart and mind conjure?
How do you put in words, these quintessential, albeit disparate longings that this heart is perpetually plagued with?
What do I call these seasons of hope interspersed with autumns of despair?
How do I define the ' search', the one that's always there like a subtle background color on my life's canvas?
Where do I head to, what do I turn to, from the crossroad?
Deliverance, is it you I seek?
Contentment, unto where shalt I pursue you?

Questions, profound and abstruse, hang in this very air I breathe.

adding sunshine

Something just made me smile and wonder, if I am actually just a sulking, morose human trying to disguise my blatant pessimism as a profound take on life and behaving (rather writing) as if I have seen it all and been there before them all.

Life is a lesson we all claim to learn but never really even begin to learn, I know I am pretentious at times, pretentious and ostentatious about my cynicism for life :)
but amidst all the tall words and 'I give two hoots about' attitude to life , is actually a very simple man, who just seeks contentment of heart and mind.

And the day I find it, the pinks and yellows shall blossom in my writing, after all my writing definitely does come straight from my heart ;)

rantings on a looney afternoon

I am looking for something to believe in
the gods?
the occult?
the philosophers?
the preachers?
me?
guess I need a new something to believe in


-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Saw the dream yesterday again
the dream i used to see awake
came back in sleep
Saw the angel
in all its glory
and saw the beast that beat the angel
the bruised angel shall never tread
the path again
the beast will wait
with watery eyes on the path
never would this world comprehend
there were two loves
one angelic and perfect
the other beastic and cruel
but both were loves nevertheless


------------------------------------------------------------------------
can i touch it
i wonder
can it feel my touch
i wonder
is there a way to reach the unreachable
is there a way to cross the chasm between
oh dreams, re-enforce my helplessness
oh dreams, re-kindle my rancor
oh dreams, re-wind the same old dream
why do i dream so many dreams

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

if only life could be lived the way you want
i would have long renounced everything
and got lost searching for myself
in some far away land
i wish there was peace
i wish i was content
i wish i was a saint
i wish i was lucky
i wish i was a savant
i wish i was a stoic
i wish i was heartless
i wish..

......__.......

Time flies away, it was almost 15 months ago that I started to scribble down my thoughts, it was a means to let out a lot of things that till then had been confined within and also it was a certain 'growing up' I observed in my own thoughts and feelings, I felt at ease with myself, was finally not expecting/judging/questioning myself endlessly.
That I feel was an outcome of me getting drawn more and more into nature and its beauty. I suddenly found that while I was roaming alone somewhere, instead of feeling alone or morose, an inner me was feeling joyous, thoughtful and relaxed. This I guess triggered me to write, after a few months of sribbling on paper, I was afraid that all the things I was thinking , feeling and trying to put into words would get lost with time. So the next thing was to put up a blog and transfer my thoughts here, however still the blog was more of a personal diary, out of bounds for anyone, not to be shared, not to be discussed. Over the last year, every once in a while I wrote something or the other here.
Now, as I read my own posts, I am touched just by knowing and being reminded of what I felt at a particular moment an year ago in my life. Needless to say it also reminds of physical things that triggered the thoughts in the first place.
This blog shall remain personal always, but ya I think I would share it with some now, people who know me well and would not judge or form opinions about it, because that is the whole objective of this blog, a personal scrap board of thoughts, neither to be judged nor to be made fun of, neither a life's story nor a frustration release valve, neither reflecting actual incidences nor factual in any way.Its just imagination and feelings at play, as sudden and experiential as say a sudden breeze, when you are basking in the yellow sun on a cold winter morning.

warm sparkle

Amidst the mediocrity of everyday life, there are some people who so touch you by an un-obvious sparkle that for a few moments as you bask in the brilliance of their light; the beauty of life itself becomes apparent. Even if for a moment, but the glimpse of this beauty, converts one into a believer.

Since this is such an effervescent experience, before we know, the traces of such moments disappear and only an after glow lingers.
Sometimes the aftermath of such an encounter/experience is complete despondence, a feeling of never being able to feel that warm sparkle again, of knowing that life is forever a drudgery and sometimes it is Utopian optimism, making us believe that in this maze of life, you can once again without warning encounter that warm sparkle, maybe in a different form, but again.

And so often, it is this mystery of life, these unknown possibilities, this experiential upliftment into a realm where you for once believe in the ultimate ethereal beauty of life, that is the ambrosia of our soul.

So is this warm sparkle really a person specific experience, to me the warm sparkle transcends individuals, it is a feeling which theoretically may be experienced upon meeting any person any time. Though in life as we know it, these warm sparkles happen precious few times, may be once, twice or may be never. May be it happened already, may be its around the corner, maybe its happening right now, this I guess is the eternal mystery and the edge of life.

even as the moonlight sleeps on the leaves of trees
and the languid wind caresses the dark night;
i am lost in the light of a warm sparkle
that comes through my memory;
the heart is blithe & the thoughts are warm
i marvel about this road of life
full of wonders and sights;
like a mystic in search of the unknown
as i walk down i know;
some where again i will find
on a turn unbeknownst ;
that warm sparkle again

time's i want to fly away

some evenings, as i twiddle my thumbs
in the yellow black cab
the sun, it takes a one last yawn
before settling to sleep in the sea of clouds
for a moment the world turns red and the wind picks up
and I want to spread my arms and fly away

years ago, when the train rumbled on in the coal black night
with me standing, on the door ajar
some times it would come, a lonely river
in midst of the grumble of bridge meeting its old friend train
the river it would smile on me, with moonlit eyes
in those moments of eternal peace
I wanted to spread my arms and fly away

Some nights alone
when I watch for stars
and a distant crooning rings in my ears
its gilmour wondering 'do they still meet there by the cut'
I just want to spread my arms and fly away