Checkpoint 11/4/14

Tough times ahead. Figured I’d remember what I need to remember.

Grace to remember not certain work, but certain behaviour is what is beneath me.

Humour, because one can never have enough of laughter.

Courage to smile on the days I can’t. Refer above.

Patience to wait till the next corner for life to throw a pleasant surprise. Or maybe the next. Or maybe the one after.

Wisdom to have faith. Funny, I should probably be asking for faith too.

“Pull no punches”. One of the best pieces of advice I got this month (I get a lot, being 22 and about to graduate and bookish).

To not bite may be virtuous, but to not hiss is foolish.

Again, wisdom. To realize I ask for this for myself, not for others. To realize that how I treat people is my choice, and how they treat me is theirs.

Knowledge that I am worth every bit of trouble I take (and get into, for that matter). Also, I’m terribly insignificant. That’s a tough one right there to wrap a head around.

But most importantly, to dare. Every. Single. Time. Forever.

My latest salutation. “May you have the odds in your favour and the gods on your side”.

And oh. Don’t forget to breathe.

In the Shadow of the Lights

They lit up the town today for the annual festival. Fairy lights on branches and buildings. And just like every year, I walked in the mellow glow through the back streets. 

Tomorrow, the place will be abuzz.

Today, it's all mine to muse in.

It's so beautiful. Red, green, yellow. Primarily yellow. Like all beautiful things, it makes me very very happy, and it makes me choke up just a little. Not sad. What's that word? Wistful?

I can picture myself. A lone figure stopping in the middle of the empty road, face tilted towards those bright orbs. They don't belong to the regular scheme of things. Yet, there they are for 3 days. Every year.

It almost surprises me that the majority of the present is made up of the past.

It always comes out as an involuntary whisper. “I would not have it any other way.” Always with a smile. Always with a lump. And always awash with those beautiful, bright lights.

It feels like an answer. I wish I also knew the question.

Monsters in the Head

I got some bad news.

I let go of some dreams.

I rejudged and rearranged a whole lot of things in my life.

I lost a hero.

I've been through all this before.

The losses, the depression following the losses, the cuts and bruises, the panic.

The trying-to-copes.

It was always bad.

There was also something else.

A sense of...well...exhilaration.

Strange word to use here, I know. But it was there. Fighting the darkness, going under, coming back, fighting again.

It was almost fun, in a way.

Not anymore.

Now it's just fear and ebbing strength and more fear.

Fear of surviving.

Not the other way round.

Fear of surviving, and be left a living wreck, to look back upon all this.

Maybe it doesn't make sense.

Nothing has, for quiet some time, to be frank.

Whispering that everything will be all right.

Knowing it won't be.

I once had a talk with a friend.

About our favourite phrase “There's always a choice”.

About how quickly choices go out of the window once things go wrong.

We were too naive to draw conclusions then, but we know better now.

The choice is never whether or not you get shit. That is never an option.

The choice is only there for whether you pass the hurt on.

And whatever you choose, it's gonna hurt you either way.

Bring's me to my other favourite phrase “You shouldn't take life to seriously, you'll never get out alive anyway.”

The Year of the Thankful

It is perhaps inevitable that I'll do a birthday post. 20 was a milestone, and I made it as such here.

21, however, feels unplanned. I mean I had always expected to be 10 or 15 or 18 or 19 or 20. But with juvenile innocence never really thought of anything beyond that. Well, here I am, as they say.

There has been probably this one thing that stood out this year. Learning thankfulness. I am more at peace with what I have or I don't. Of course, I'm still a paranoid freak, but I'm thankful for what I have, in spite of the knowledge that some things may be taken away. I'll be ok. I know I'll be ok.

I'm thankful for the people around me.

Thankful that we are all safe, if not totally sound (specially in the head).

Thankful that none of us have sold our souls, in spite of everything.

Thankful for unexpected miracles and uncharted territories.

Thankful for a abundance of books and puppies.

Thankful for all the dreams, in spite of the nightmares.

And thankful for the fact that I still have it in me to be stupid and proud of it.

Heigh ho, another year!!!

I never Knew- I

 
I never knew...

How delicate conquests can be,

Like soap bubbles

Under the lazy afternoon sun.





I plan to make these like a series. Each one a small spark of emotion, a moment suspended in space.

photo:http://graphics.ucsd.edu/~iman/SoapBubbles/Soap_bubbles_RGB.png

Being a Fool

If there is anything that being buffered around a few times in life does to you, is that it makes you skeptical. Something good happens, and you assume there is something bad waiting somewhere around the corner.

It is useful sometimes, even if unfortunate. Getting knocked down enough number of times comes with valuable experience. Experience that tells you you can't avoid getting the knocks, but it sure helps if at least you can prevent being blindsided. Survival strategies are made of such stuff.

As they say, life hands you lemons. And for a while, you do your best to sweeten away the sourness, figuratively speaking. Then you run out of sugar, and just accept the fact that lemons are sour. That is usually smart.

And then, rarely, something really nice comes your way. Guess what, you poor sod, you are still stuck with the sour taste in your mouth. This is the sad part. You know you like it, but you can't enjoy it. You try to put aside the baggage you've accumulated, hurt and pain and mistrust and everything else, and try to replace it with a new order of things, one that has you happy. And all you can think of is, "This is stupid. This is too good to be true."

Frankly, you're right. By most chances, the good phase will not last. It rarely does. And you'll come back crashing again, broken. Just like the last time. Remember how much it hurt? You are a fool. You can walk away from what makes you happy, you can even convince yourself you're doing it to protect yourself from further hurt.
It makes frightening sense, but you know what, you'll still be a fool. And moreover, now you are both a fool and a fraud.

Tough deal, huh? It's tough for me. But right now, I'll take my chances. I'll be just the fool. Simply because I've been a fraud for too long. Wish me luck.

Its Over.

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's meant to be broken 
I just want you to know who I am .

                                                      -Goo Goo Dolls - Iris

I start to see the pattern. Every time I think, this will be different, every time I open up, I’m only handing people ammunition. I understand that no matter what I do, I cannot make the world love me. There is nothing to love, nothing to respect. Only a black self-annihilating void. I abhor myself and everything that I tried to hold close. I seem to have some kind of anti-Midas touch, whatever I touch turns to poison.

I realise the fact that I am a fool and a fraud. My words are just that, words. They have no power, no life. Except to bring out the pathetic whining of my demented mind. My ideals have been shattered, each pounded to pieces. My ideas ring hollow and false.

Its time I called myself a failure. I lost. I thought I would make my own rules. I thought I would be good at what I am good at. I tried to make the small things count. But I am only mediocre. I am defeated. My best is not good enough. I am not good enough. I am sorry. I tried.

Its over. I would be lying if I said there is nothing left for me here. There is. But somehow, I don’t find it in me any more to seek it. I know it’s not the worst a person can go through. Not even close. But this time, I just want to give up. I would fight it, if I could. Smashed, broken and bleeding, I would have hung on. But I don’t want to, not any more. I want to let go.

I guess that also makes me a coward. How fitting. That I should become everything that I have always hated. But I can and will maintain one last semblance of prestige. I shall not make excuses. The only faults to be found, I will find in me. Not in the world, not in life, not in any one.

Please know that I love you, in my own weird way, across the words. Every one. Thank you for listening. Whether a minute or an hour or a year, you brightened up a stupid girl’s world. Whether you knew or not.

As I read this over, it sounded a bit like a suicide note. No, you probably won’t find a body on the bed tomorrow morning. But if you search in the rubbish heap, you might just find a soul. 

Goodbye.

[image courtesy:http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2203/2498445479_064841a97d_o.jpg]

On Turning Twenty

So I turn twenty. Is it a big deal? Is it not? I don’t know. I don’t feel twenty. But then, I probably have no clue how twenty feels, so maybe that statement is redundant.There are times I feel ten (already been there, so this I know). And there are days I feel forty (this is a guess; I hope the real one is less scary than I think it to be).

I talk to kids and find out I have no clue about the cartoons they watch on TV, and feel old. Then I listen to people and wish I could go back to being four so that I could give them a hug and say everything will be fine.

Memories are funny things. One huge, shimmering pot of good and bad, bitter and sweet. Black and white and every shade in between.

I have learnt to keep my plans open-ended.  And accepted that a lot of them aren’t gonna work out, many times just for the heck of it. And it will still be fine. More importantly, I will still be fine. I’ll plan again.

I have seen how quickly masks fall from faces. And found out how badly it hurts to be betrayed (that’s less than when you end up betraying, whether intentionally or otherwise. we’ve all been there). But also that a lot of things heal with time. Whether they do or do not often depend on us, too. There is always a choice. Always.

I have had fun when it was least expected. And realised true friends are not just people who stick together, but who dream together, and snigger together, and sing together, and have tiffs and make up, thousand times over, thousand miles apart. People who are there to welcome you back, no matter how far you go.

I have heard stories that defy logic. And believed them all. Everyone has a story. Many get lost in the cacophony of the world, because they do not know this. But there are some who do know, and treasure the knowledge, even if they don’t show it. If you sit down and let them talk, they might just surprise you, for a few among them don’t just come with stories, they are whole novels (and I personally know two who are regular epics, God bless them).

I have laughed over silly things. And cried over sillier ones. But both felt better when shared. Like the old time school tiffin. Emotions are way more shared among people than the barriers of age, race, gender or location will let us believe. Crossing those barriers can be scary, yet liberating (like going down a highway on a bike. or being in love. take your pick).

I have had my faith tested. And lost some, and gained some. The best way to regain it is to talk to someone who lost more than you (there is invariable someone around who fits the bill). Rarely, if ever, is it true that faith moves mountains. But it probably does save more souls than all the confession boxes in the world.

I have learnt how tough it is to grow up. Growing old will be tougher. I’ll go into the new year (and decade, sigh) a bit sadder, a bit wiser, still reluctantly optimistic, still incorrigibly romantic and still unfailingly inquisitive.

But these I have been since as far back I can remember.
Looks like growing up will have to wait another year.

Will you Tell me Your Story?

Stories have always been important to me. My brain recognizes people by the stories that I know of them.Some call it a typical Aquarian trait, some call it childish. Whatever it may be, I have been blessed to have been told of their stories by many folks. Lives, successes, failures, loves, encounters, fights, glories. And every time I meet someone new, and hear theirs, it only gets reconfirmed,that every person has a story, if we only care to listen. 

I came across the following poem, and it seemed perfect to express in a way how The Story People came into being. It says exactly what I say silently, every time I talk to a person, every time I talk to YOU.

The Invitation

                                                   -Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for,

And if you dare to dream of meeting

Your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool

For love, for your dream,

For the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.

I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,

If you have been opened by life's betrayals,

Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain,

Mine or your own,

Without moving

To hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy,

Mine or your own,

If you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes

Without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,

or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.

I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself,

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithless and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty

Even when it is not pretty every day,

And if you can source your life

From its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure,

Yours and mine,

And still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon,

"Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,

Weary and bruised to the bone,

And do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

In the center of the fire with me

And not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you

From the inside

When all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone

With yourself,

And if you truly like the company you keep

In the empty moments.

[photo courtesy:http://www.flickr.com/photos/chatinthehat/1190818714/

poem cortesy:Oriah Mountain Dreamer:http://www.oriahmountaindreamer.com/.By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation published by HarperONE, San Francisco,1999 All rights reserved. I do not own this poem or any parts of it.This is posted only with the purpose of sharing.]

Forbidden Fruit

This was written on a moment of inspiration. Inspiration that is partly literature, partly certain story people whom I know, partly lonely-night-blues And a lot of other things. Unrequited love is tough. Tougher is perhaps when you cannot even speak about it. And I don't even want to go into the cases where destiny has other plans in mind. (But I am totally against people being hailed as Romeos when they kill themselves when a relation gets over.Relations do get over.And you learn to live with it.Period.) As usual with me and poems, its extremely bad poetry, but I do hope some of the emotions manage to come through.

Forbidden fruit
Nectar divine
Love of mine
But only silently can I cry.

Forbidden fruit
I’d sell my soul
And take a nibble
If only the price wasn’t so high.

Forbidden fruit
Choices and decisions.
Actions and consequences
But what do you judge by?

Forbidden fruit
Never enough
Not even close
Judgement of man, hard to defy.

Forbidden fruit
What’s the use?
I know I will lose.
Why did the songs of love lie?

Forbidden fruit
Ever in mind
Never to be mine
Still no one to hear me sigh.

Forbidden fruit

The ecstasy of pain
Like moths to the flame
But I am too young to die.

Forbidden fruit
You will never know
Perhaps neither will I
Forbidden fruit.

[photo courtesy:http://blog.vipulsetia.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/Broken_Heart.jpg]

Love and Time

This happens to be a personal favourite since a long time back. Read it in a children's magazine, but the full message did not hit me until I sat down to read it out to my kid sister who was 7 at that time. Since then, I have shared it with scores of people, mostly kids. And it never fails to cheer me up (as well as those listening).



Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others including Love. However, one day it was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all prepared their boats and left. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to stay until it started sinking. When Love was almost sinking, she decided to ask for help.

Richness was passing by Love in a beautiful boat. Love said, “Richness, can you take me with you?”
Richness answered, “No, I can’t. There are a lots of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you.”

Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by, “Vanity, please help me!” “I can’t help you Love. You are all wet and can probably damage my boat,” Vanity answered.

Sadness was close by so Love asked for help, “Sadness, let me go with you.”
“Oh, Love, I am so sad that I prefer to go alone!”

Happiness passed by Love too, but she was so happy that she did not listen when Love called her.

Suddenly, there was a voice, “Come Love, I will take you.” It was an elderly. Love was so happy that she even forgot to ask the name of the elderly.

When they arrived to the other side, Love asked Knowledge who the elderly was.

Knowledge said, “It was Time. The greatest and the oldest of the grand desires.”

“Time?” said Love “But why did Time help me?”

“Because only Time knows how great Love is…”


[photo courtesy:http://my.opera.com/ladyman2424/blog/]