It Ends with You: #ANTHEM 18

Well, it’s not really the end, so to speak. It’s not really the end as much as it is the limit. At least in this song. While the song keeps saying that you are the end – that is not what it means. We are apt to get lost in the literal meaning. And we should be careful. Love knows no end. If it did, it would be so small, so little, so less in meaning – I wouldn’t be love.

17.02.03: For the Love of Red

Living this life that I have lived, I have discovered, it’s not so. Love has limits, ends, boundaries. Unfortunately it has a start and an end, for those who choose to be in love or not. Not for a lover, however; the lover is always in love. You can throw restrictions and strictures at a lover — that person will continue to love, by throwing away the net of conventions.

 

For my readers who do not know Hindi, here’s the translation.

This song states the limit of love; there should be a poetry of how love starts. How it begins. How it is sparked.

That’s just me. But, This song has been on the top of my various playlists. For the first time, it is not the lyrics, but the sense of the song that is making sense. There are people who do not want, necessarily, to be in love. But they need a sense of it.

You can either define limits or you can define love. Not both.

For them, these limits may make sense. For the rest of us..

… ah, well…

It’s Love!

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An Unfinished Thought

4958: Grand Ceiling

“How would you write about the end and the beginning…”

“Every beginnin…”

“…without a butterfly, caterpillar, window, sunsets, sky, clouds, linings or the tenses? No metaphors, no telling me what a great artist or a scientist said, no clichés, and definitely no fake quotes.”

“Whatever ends, doesn’t continue; whatever begins, continues.”

“Is that all? Would you write no more?”

“Well, if you took all my devices away from me, all my paints and brushes, deny me any decoration, then that would be all. In any case, there is nothing more to an end or a beginning. It is what it is.”

It’s over and it wont last
It ends, this is the last.
Only for that, it is the end
What’s new, at this end.

“You know what doesn’t have a beginning or an end?”

“What?”

“An unfinished thought.”

“An unfinished thought has a beginning, it hasn’t found its end, as yet.”

“But, if it is unfinished, how de we know where it begins and where it ends?”

“The very fact that it is un-finished…”

“Aaargh. When I began this conversation, I thought it would be fun. I’d like to end it now.”

The End

Shut up; Gently Speaking

I have nothing to say.

That’s easily the worst sentence to start a post.

I recently put the petulant twins — anger and outrage — to sleep. Outrage slept easier than Anger, but it did, eventually.

 I still have respect for those who disagree with me, but I know not, if they do, too.

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This blinking cursor is intimidating.

I have, perhaps, reached the border of wisdom-land, or of insanity-shire. I wouldn’t know; I’ve never been there.

But it is peaceful for sure — just like the chaotic extremes we now live.

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With a difference; one end is true; the other extreme is false.

Events don’t define our lives.

Nothing is permanent. Not even our beliefs. Yet, we hold on to them, for the “security of known misery to the misery of unfamiliar insecurity”.

Sheldon B. Kopp.

In, “If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him.” Paraphrased. Verbatim-ly.

We can speak.

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Paralysed beings with active fingers.

Empowered fingers of shallow, rotting minds, to that one side.

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I take irony and smother her, and strangle her, with four hands.

She laughs back at me.

140.

She is still laughing.

Dead.

Because both of us are alive, we know not, who is dead.

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The power of the medium is not our strength.

We mistook our ability to use the power of the medium for our ability to use our intellect, imagination, and insight.

Like riding a wave.

It’s the nature of the wave that allows us to ride; all we do, is maintain our balance.

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I have nothing to say.

And you should know by now,

I have nothing to say.

PS: This post is right-aligned.

Never Say Never

Our prejudice of people and places puts us in precarious positions. And they are precarious because they potentially inhibit a forward movement (or backward, as the case may be). When whoever coined Never Say Never, I wonder if they were being contradictory on purpose. The last word contradicts the first two or the first word contradicts the last two. Your choice. Some crafty person thought about it I am sure, perhaps waiting for others to see the contradiction.

6904: Never Say Never

In a no – there is an automatic decline of an experience, which is why, recently, I started saying yes. When I look back on my life experiences, I am glad I said yes. For the ones, which I declined, I will never know. Also, it’s easy to step back to a no after you have said yes; it’s seldom possible, vice versa. Then, there are sacrifices that come along with the yes. And it is impossible to weigh known sacrifices with unknown gains that the yes has the potential to bring, at a later unknown date. Then, your yes is a leap—less, of faith—more, of an abstract calculation. With the knowledge that you always can draw out the no card at a later date, when the yes isn’t worth the effort.

No yes, however, should be blind, or, for the sake of it. Our intuition (as against our prejudice) plays an important role in this yes and no of life. It requires a down-calibration of our prejudice and an up-calibration of our intuition. And while the results of a yes or a no may feed our prejudice in some way, it enhances our experience, which, in a very subtle yet sophisticated manner—feeds our intuition.

This little life of ours is capable of experiencing more than we believe it can.

My Life’s Diamond (And I Love You So)

It’s dark outside.

When we close our eyes, it’s dark. The real dark. When we open our eyes, we see much light and colour. But it is a different type of dark. We can discern shapes, depth, colours, structure, and form, but we see nothing.

0748: Artificial Patterns

So we close our eyes.

The big blanket of black at the back of our eyelids is comforting. There are no colours. No shapes. No forms. No need for defining anything. It’s peaceful. It is dark grey when we start, and an impermeable black after a while. For just a while.

Then, it all changes.

Crystalline megastructures float in. They are Prussian blue to begin with. So dark a shade we can hardly differentiate between black and blue. The colours of pain. But the experience is peaceful. A mesh of see-through inter-connected horizontal diamonds of blue. The crystal structures move and transform rapidly, creating combinations hitherto unknown. A mathematical ballet; if only I could tell you the formula. It is a tense structure, stretched from this extreme of my emotion to that.

A gentle press on the eyelids, then; I dive into another world.

Green, like the moss of a discarded lake of yore. Magenta, like the colour of your bangles. Brown, like the magical mud I saw in the Deccan fort. White, like milk before I poured it in the tea. Red, like your carefully smeared rounded bindi. Yellow, like the fresh lemon on a Tuesday afternoon. Pink, like the one we both smiled at, at the store. And as one colour gives way to another, I see, in between, nameless colours. Like the trivial moments we shared. Each eventually forgotten, but always cherished, for their essence. A wild and reckless combination of the bases. I am reminded of organic chemistry. Base colours. Base elements.

Each complex crystal is an idea. A memory. A dream. Each one is transient. This is not a play of time. This is a play of experience.

There is a manner about how I love.

This is how, and how much I love you.

Alone and Lonely

Perhaps, before the end of this year,  we will discover and learn the difference between alone and lonely.

And to do that,  we will have to set out in a way that we never did.

March Schizophrenia

It’s never the case that thoughts do not flow; it’s usually the case that we try and file the thoughts for later use, but because of their transient nature, when we search for them later, we usually do not find them. We need to trap them before they evaporate.

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It’s often difficult to survive in a crowd; it’s suffocating, especially if there is a shade of a bigger entity over you. Doctors attribute it to lack of Vitamin D. As one tomato sapling discovered, with dire consequences, we need to find our own place in the sun.

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It’s not that people don’t want to talk, perhaps your availability is scarce. Real conversations cannot be slave to schedules, they will occur when they want to occur, and both – talker and listener have to be present when the conversations feel like happening.

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Staying away from people or people staying away from (there’s a difference) teaches you more about them than you ever learn about them while being with them. It doesn’t matter how long; two hours, two years or two decades.

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It’s good to dare yourself once in a while to do something you wouldn’t have done, otherwise. The results can be surprising divine or devastating. Either ways, you’ll have more courage, the next time you take a leap.

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March is a dangerous month.