Cognition To Connect

Today there was a thought I have been trying to remember and finally got it!

Earlier I had read an other blog where the protagonist asks "is it possible to see and touch an object-which is sensation-but not let thought create the image?" and wanted to reply sans reflection cos Psychology had the answer for the same. 'Cognition' being the keyword, it brings into force various connections learnt, experienced and observed. This is a vault from which these pieces are interwoven. The magnificient marvel of the human mind!

A very small meditation on the word 'Mountain' (for an illustration) brings in the memories of the first mountain climb we had, the view of the snow-filled tops, the accidents we narrowly missed during the climb upward, the mist that we saw and the oncoming traffic that we couldn't, the rugged buses that passed by, the chillness on the tip, the furnace in the kitchen that kept us warm while sipping that black tea, the images from the ends of the cliff, the person who walked with us skin on skin... for the warmth or for the lusty fire burning within-God alone knows! the temple by the brook, the crystal clear water, the careful trek scanning for animals that might come to the brook, the animals that actually crossed the path, the relationships that began on top and ended as we descended... and how glad we were though the pretentious mask of saddness we did put on... hahaha! not possible to let the thoughts disconnect at the point one wants to! It is simply a rush of connections, connection after connection. Thats cognition! And if it were not there, we have a problem at the Psychological level to solve. The visual imagery with auditory response and sensory stimulus is just a normal process and it is an indifferent mind that questions yet a ignorant one that ponders. This is simply not a wonder. Simple, natural and clear.

Bottomline: If something did not affect you, it was not worth going through.

Riding In The Dark

Lately, I have been wondering if emotions mean anything. This comes in after sensing the need for others around me wanting to know so much about themselves... Why?

Are we so interesting that we need to ponder so much about ourselves to an extent that we care less for quintessentials around us? So much of self importance required?!

Recently I have been upto some pygmallion- endeavours. However, the result always foreseen, the mind games I wish not to play, the muses I try to keep-all bubbles. The trouble with the mind is that it keeps me facinated to watch the need for people to facinate others by moving inwards or outward, taking rejections, contemplations and wishes to a fine display at all unconsious levels, revealing more than they wish to hide.

Yesterday, strangely, an introvert-masochistic Professor, came out of his shell to ask me if I could lend him some of the books on Psychiatry and Psychology, in a miserable attempt to help him understand the minds of others. Told him that he was too juvenile to read the stuff lying on my table and hence as all mortals do, he proceeds to my reading table to get a glimpse of what I was reading. As expected, he did not fare too well. he said that Horney and Gottman were too confusing and that Freud did not make any sense. The moment someone tells me that Freud does not make sense, it hits me and I wonder questioning the facade of intellectual poverty of such creatures and wish deep from my heart that those sucklings need to go through a rhythymic abandon like a stray bitch and wish that the suffering they are undergoing be aggravated with more fleece up their a%^$e. May be this fellow being a masochist, will sit there to enjoy it. So rather than give him the pleasure of my discontent, I chose to withdraw into the night sans food and soon, a couple of friends, we rode the bikes into the darkness at midnight-for no reason. It was good. Proximity another question that was dwelling in my mind was also sedimenting with the ditches around the corner posing more of an excitement than threat. However, life sans guilt is better than life sans sins.

Bottomline: Reading does not enlighten you... rather it is the enlightenment that makes you read.

Yet To Get A Tune

People are dying in temptation, shame and pain.
People are living for power, for revenge and selfish gain.
Love does not matter any more.
Tradition, culture and true passion-people bother no more.

What is this life?
What is this life?
Does no one ever see? What this is turning to be?

Countries go for war like a game.
Little children get killed with no name.
Love does not matter any more.
Concern, peace and care-people bother no more.

What is this life?
What is this life?
Does no one ever see? What this is turning to be?

We struggle in a world gone insane.
We live to struggle every day.
Love does not matter any more.
Children, family and friends-we bother no more.

What is this life?
What is this life?Does no one ever see? What this is turning to be?

From A Trip

There is so much I would like to blog about. Just back from a trip to my cousins. So many events and so many personalities and so many dynamics that come with it... so much so that yesterday's Ramzaan party at Sumsudeen's was a good get away. The night, once again with friends at another party... these days I get invited to so many parties and invariably there is so much of sharing. Sort of getting used to the fact that various groups like to party and glad to be part of every other group. Sadder than being invited to these parties were you are obliged to go would be, when you don't get invited to any. So think this is better for me...

Ever wonder what comes in when a group deliberates itself to listen to you thinking that you are meaningful? It sort of puts a need to be reassured with the arms of wisdom around you and wish passively that you are making sense and not dissappointing the audience. At times it makes you feel as though the acceptance of you by the group can surpass their expectations so much so that you can actually touch upon the lightest things in the world and make it sound like a wonder. Needless to say, it is... isn't it not?

By the by, yesterday had its interesting turn of events too. Vulnerability is not my 'inthing' yet I knew I was vulnerable at certain points. Glad that it went as unnoticed as a Freudian slip. By the by, I wrote one of the steamiest, passionate and intense poems yesterday... Have to decide if i may post it... hmmmm! let me think...

Psst! Haven't been able to post anything that I wanted to... just got drifted away...

Bottomline: Life is interesting...

Bubbles...

Human soul is so fragile, existing on a delicate mask it wears creating an illusion around it for its own comfort to a point where the question of its survival becomes a reality too hard to bear when it has to destroy the illusion it has created around it; spending time, energy, emotions and money to come out of the condition box it is trapped in to set itself free, to face the world of reality and to experience what life has in store for each one of us.

This often leaves the soul shattered making it feel empty and meaningless when it comes in terms with the reality that surrounds it and finds that there is no way out of this fake world of illusions but to accept the hard, crude and ruthless fact that the mask indeed has to be taken off and left behind when one is tired of wearing and carrying the mask too long. The essence of exploring deep into the soul begins thus by initiating a need to find the answers to life and wanting to experience it for real in the discoveries that one makes in the wilderness the soul is dropped to find itself.

This lost soul is often not alone and this at times heightens the questions of finding one's path in the wilderness seeing other soul searchers mercilessly searching as well. There are plenty of soul searchers out there often in frustration and desperation in the initial stages of the search. This phase is only a test of endurance. To check if one deserves what one desires.

The very act of soul searching begins when one is fed up of the artificiality, faking and lies that people use as an armor as well as a weapon to deceive. Thus begins the search for truth, love and purpose for which one would live or die for.

Truth sets us free. Simple and clear. There is nothing more left to be explained about that.

Love on the other hand is a parasite just like the people who search for it to feast, survive and spread. Ironically it is a parasite living on a parasite consuming and growing on each other. 'Love is an illusion', so they say. For every searching soul this is an option left open for the revival of the lost innocence from the corrupted traps of knowledge which entered in the pretext of curbing ignorance. It is in this wild quest for exploration that souls are lost and found in a maze often leading to amazing discoveries that surprises, shatters or soothes the soul from deep inside.

Bottomline: Without losing oneself, one can hardly find what they are searching for.

From The Closet

One day due to some strange reason I started walking through the streets where I grew.

Reminiscence and childhood memories with every step, the playground where we friends used to bash up each other in the name of some wild game and patched up for the next game, the games were always on perhaps they never stop, the old flour mill and the masala shop, the teachers who lived nearby, the tuition centres, my friend’s homes, girls who I thought were beautiful, who lived nearby, the slanting post where I drove the new bicycle and crashed on the other side of the wall, the old tiled house with hanging pots and the Morris Minor, Herald and Lambretta, the tank at the backyard where I soaked myself in summer, which made me think that I was an ace swimmer, which ended up in me getting bashed for jumping into the sea thinking that swimming in the ocean was as easy as swimming in the tank, the famous landmark-a telephone exchange, the skating rink, the guitar classes, the wedding house where I learnt the existence of class system, the empty plot into which we used to shoot rockets with fire on their tail, the mango and guava trees, my secret hiding place in the old depleted building, the old well into which we used to throw the biggest stones to hear them splash, the Sunday classes... even if anything had changed, my eyes saw only the mirage of their presence as it was when I was a kid.

A deliberate stubbornness to ensure that nothing should change… an attempt to wish that the small essence of innocent memories through those eyes of the child must not be lost.

Wish I could go back time and relive a few moments I cherish and change a few I regret as well. Think I do not have the luxury to say as many do that I do not wish to turn back and change anything in my life if given a chance to do so. At times God is like an unforgiving opponent in the game of chess who would not let us change a move we regret after making it.

Time, money and mobility changes our life style and at times family, fate and duty creates a distance between us and people we wish to be with. However, at the end of the day, money changes everything I suppose. It can make people hate and love in seconds, create an illusion and make a dream come true right in front of our eyes, makes the ugly beautiful and vice versa, breaks barriers for self and sets up barriers for others, creates suspicion, doubts and at the same time liberates people. It is a genie. I think I would give in to letting money stay with me if it knows how to keep silent.

Bottomline: Songs of innocence are cherished only after lamenting through songs of experience.

The Traffic Signal

One day as I was driving past the traffic in the peak hours of the morning, I saw for fact that every human is rushing towards something only s/he knows and in a mindless effort to negotiate, cares so less for the other mortals taking the same path. So in the road, just as in the trip called life.

The rudimentary challenge that confronts my mind at this moment to get past this suburban drudgery is the chronic dissatisfaction that confronts all my efforts and makes it seem so fragile… is this bubble we live in so delicate? When do we have a story of our life worth having, carved on stone instead of these fading passages we tiringly try to write in the sands near the shore… nevertheless even stones disappear with constant dropping of tears don’t they?

Probably the emergence of this unpleasant and demanding vacuum devouring me which makes me frantically search for those little pleasures of life hidden and lying submerged in the unknown hues of a pleasant sky often when realized, comes from within. Probably we expect too much from outside to make us happy… or is it due to the bulging ambitious drive which oversees the stones one has to step on despite the flesh being torn, we seldom wait to frown as our eyes are lifted somewhere high on the mountains we wish to reach, our legs still walking on? At the end of the day, what the heck are we all walking for following the trails left behind by others in flocks hoping that this is the trail every lost soul takes?

The easiest path is to follow the footsteps of others I suppose… no wonder books sell so well. We second-hand creatures!

One more thing that I get to see are people in the verge of anxiety and with a rush of fear and hope to have everything under their control even those beyond, resort to superstitions. Those which make us pledge some elements responsible for the ways we screw up our lives or things around it.

These days I am so glad that I was present during one of the life changing sessions I had attended during my college days… the person who talked was a renowned and famous actor known for his criticism of religion. He said that if religion uses fear arising out of anxiety as a tool to imprison us in our own self acclaimed prison and thrives on the revenue thus expected to exculpate us, then who needs such a religion which brings forth such superstitions for its own promotion?

By renouncing religion, we save ourselves from this complacency of surviving on such superstitions. What one has to deal with and carefully uproot is the fear and anxiety that lies beneath deep rooted, instead of trying to chip out branches or apply makeup to an unhealing wound.

Bottomline:
If I were to put it in a pure language of Economics, ‘An uneven distribution of my soul sans a tryst between my heart and mind in the perfect market situation bothered by countless thoughtless thoughts.’ Just like every intellect questioning in remorse at the end of the day the knowledge which corrupts and the second-hand learnings and thoughts without which he would have been better off… those signs of learning that got him labeled eccentric which he can’t deny… and he still thinks in borrowed conceptions and perceptions to understand his hunger and evoke his own thoughts. Still thinking… Now what?

Hail Moral Judges!

Sometimes we always see life passing by, from a window. Safely ‘wishing’ we can be on the other side of ridicule… ideally! Only wishing! Wishing for the ideal.

On a dead mannequin rests an essence of a person who admires the exchanged idea of a persona alive across the glass window. The transfer of the psyche into a non-existing form to reach for the tangibles and experience it in convinience! The convenient game of watching someone else take our place to have the guilty pleasure we want too and to have the luxury of standing back and watching that replaced 'someone' suffer the consequences of the action. We want to escape and that too... unharmed.

Such a merciless calm before the storm!

The rudimentary challenge that faces everyone sometime and someone every time, are moments when a principle one holds is cornered and crudely challenged. Principles! The ones that we make for ourselves to find dignity and respect in places where people tell us to guard our reputation even with our own life. From where do these challenges emerge that makes us impaired when seldom prepared?! Fraying those little hopes so meticulously chiseled like fragile remains of strained faith of an ancient painting in a deserted cave, left to rot yet still shimmering the keeper’s pride.

Those moments when one dives deep, touching the rock bottom at the nadir of an ocean of ridicule, flapping those tattering mermaid fins, lost between a smoky dust of a surreal land one wants to merge and the mesmerizing-luscious beauty of the deep-mystic ocean one wants to diverge. Those moments of finding strength and dying helplessly… Anger, frustration and more anger and even more helpless anger that emerge like bursting lava in its full frenzy from an erupting volcano with the lust of desires we have and to not find what we hold as firmly as we seek to find the same for those moments of momentary comfort.

Nevertheless, some lifeless moths do make certain compromises for the lack of its principles, and that frantic wish to fake its presence in the vacuum of its absence, creeps in a desire to expect it from those vulnerable to our provocations. That FC$KING moral judgments passed… that jealousy with a halo!

Bottomline: As you judge, so may you be judged

The Lustful Wish

Whirlwinds of magnitude great
swirleth like wildfire rising.
Far above the celestial skies,
A whisper among the Gods-About her beauty.

The widening smile, her twinkling eyes!
The words just broke and the worlds just stopped to watch
as she jumped to sway her flowing frock.

The winds of mischief with growing lust gasped for a moment and grew stronger,
Watching her honey-drenched lips shine with the sun’s blinding rays.
The rays so sharp, cleverly did try to hide her skin,
brazing those watchful eyes.

She jumped to reach,
To reach for something above the skies.

The splendid horizon,
The mooring moon,
The soaring eagle,
The thumping beagle,
The mind full of vanishing struggle oft tried in vain,
to contain her within limits of boundaries and pensive solace.

The fragile leaves swayed in the field
with tender understanding as they soothed her glowing skin.

“Even the free-sailing tempest dareth not stop her now.
This time is for her to fly and touch the skies.”
Said he standing invisible somewhere near.

The Soul So Fragile...

Human soul is so fragile, existing on a delicate mask it wears creating an illusion around it for its own comfort to a point where the question of its survival becomes a reality too hard to bear when it has to destroy the illusion it has created around it spending time, energy, emotions and money to come out of the condition box it is trapped in to set itself free, to face the world of reality and to experience what life has in store for each one of us. This often leaves the soul shattered making it feel empty and meaningless when it comes in terms with the reality that surrounds it and finds that there is no way out of this fake world of illusions but to accept the hard, crude and ruthless fact that the mask indeed has to be taken off and left behind when one is tired of wearing and carrying the mask too long. The essence of exploring deep into the soul begins thus by initiating a need to find the answers to life and wanting to experience it for real in the discoveries that one makes in the wilderness the soul is dropped to find itself. This lost soul is often not alone and this at times heightens the questions of finding one's path in the wilderness seeing other soul searchers mercilessly searching as well. There are plenty of soul searchers out there often in frustration and desperation in the initial stages of the search. This phase is only a test of endurance. To check if one deserves what one desires.

The very act of soul searching begins when one is fed up of the artificiality, faking and lies that people use as an armor as well as a weapon to deceive. Thus begins the search for truth, love and purpose for which one would live or die for.

Truth sets us free. Simple and clear. There is nothing more left to be explained about that.

Love on the other hand is a parasite just like the people who search for it to feast, survive and spread. Ironically it is a parasite living on a parasite consuming and growing on each other. 'Love is an illusion', so they say. For every searching soul this is an option left open for the revival of the lost innocence from the corrupted traps of knowledge which entered in the pretext of curbing ignorance.

It is in this wild quest for exploration that souls are lost and found in a maze often leading to amazing discoveries that surprises, shatters or soothes the soul from deep inside.

Bottomline: Without losing oneself, one can hardly find what they are searching for.