Complexity

Define complex.

What makes a person simple or complex? Person who doesn’t question, and just enjoys is simple?

A person who questions to find answer is complex? The one who tries to understand the meaning of life and who refuses to plainly exist just for the sake, is that person complex? Who believes in purpose, reason and meaning is complex? Someone who believes in a philosophy, and holds on to it because maybe it is giving her relief at that moment, however insane it sounds to other is complex? Be it any kind of philosophy. There is understanding, some closeness to an answer, a feeling of discovery and then euphoria... the amazing feeling of euphoria. This is much more than happiness isn’t it? Wanting euphoria is complex?

The joy of competing, a push to extremes to win; which makes her life exciting. Accepting a challenge, which makes her feel alive, a feeling of “she’s on fire”. Alive with passion to do it, for the pure love of it. It can be any subject. Anything at all.

Refusing to acknowledge guilt, sacrifice as heroic sentiments. Not an act to be different. There is no need to be. Refusing it because she has learnt to place “I” first. Not ashamed in believing “I am almost perfect”. “Almost” because, there has to be a room for changes. Call her proud. She won’t mind. Ask her to fly low, she will refuse. You contradict her with arguments, she has stronger ones. Why should she fly low? She is not afraid of heights. Why do you have a problem in her believing she is perfect? If you have a problem, why are you wasting your time on her?  Stop wasting your time, stop giving smart remarks, it won’t affect her. She doesn’t need you to respect her. She doesn’t need your approval. She is proud of who she is. She loves the way she is. Stop wasting your time; else you’ll listen to sassy reply, “Don’t waste my time. I’ve other things to work on.” Or is it because you are afraid to believe you are perfect, hence the contradictions? Or is it too scandalous for you, because it sounded bold to you? Or is it just for the heck of it?

There is clarity. There is peace when there is clarity. There is satisfaction, stability. There is this urge to decode to understand. There is life. And so much more... More I try to use words, more it diminishes the beauty and the fire of the feeling.

All this is complex?

Define complex/complexity.

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Silent battle

At times it gets on my nerves. Me and my stubbornness. It is perfectly understood that it is not what is that important in life, when asked to describe. It is understood. The purpose is more important. It is secondary, if thought logically, rationally. Still I don’t understand why I’m being so annoyingly stubborn. When I see it not working, slipping out of my hands, it scares me. And I try and spend my energy on thinking how to make it work. “Letting it go” doesn’t seem to exist in my dictionary. Rather it is the stubbornness which doesn’t let it exist.

Mind can be easily distracted when future plans are laid out and immerses itself to work for it. What kills is the break. Break gives time for it to get distracted back to that “it”. And the outermost for loop is running again. And I again scare myself. The worst statement ever made is: I’m scared of myself. I just can’t make out if it is my mind that is controlling me or is it me controlling my mind.

Either way, it is just being stubborn. Either it is hesitant to the new beginning and being a block to self or it is just scared of starting over.

A want is a want it says. I have to have it. When I ask why, there is no answer. It just doesn’t answer. Or maybe I don’t want to listen to it. Two questions pop up in my mind when I ask why:

1.      Do you really love it?

2.      Or is it just the fear?

Why be stubborn on that fish, when there are millions of other fishes? Again, no answer. The two questions pop again. But no answer.

Listen to your mind, “philosophers” said. Listen to it, and later you get peace. The mind will be quieter. There will be long gaps slowly. Hello!! Is it that what I want right now? I’m done listening. I want action. I need to see it work. Somehow, anyhow. A want is a want. I have to have it.

Again I ask why?

1.      Is it really love?

2.      Or is it just the fear?

All I need is an answer.

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On Pleasing

A few days back, I had said pleasing is not bad when there is selfish reason. But then I realized there is some change in self when I did that. I didn’t realize it then, because it was a slow change.

See, before there was no one to please, there was just self to please. There was no doubt over self. Self was thought to be perfect, beautiful and most importantly there was complete faith in self. There was a want to do more, improve more yes, because it was for self satisfaction, again.

When trying to please, I lost all those belief slowly. I realized this when I was looking at myself in the mirror today. I saw and I was speaking to myself asking, “What is wrong in me?”

A few years back it would be a firm statement, “you are perfect. I believe in you, completely.” There would be no questions. No struggle thinking, “What do I do now to...?” There would just be, “This is what I’m doing.” There would be, “This is what I am. I’m perfect. I’m me.” There was comfort with self. I believed that I’m special. If it was only for me, it still was enough. “I am special.” And I believed in it.

And till now, I had started believing, “There is nothing special. There is nothing unique. There will be some element of me in others too. And maybe I have some element of others.” This was all because I wanted to please. All because I tried to be unique, perfect. All because I believed what was said. All because I believed all the reasons, and I kept on saying out loud, “I don’t care what people say” until now I realized, I did. I did care what my close ones said. Who I thought were close said.

And then I realized, no one knows me better than me. I’m still the old me, just that she was lost maybe. Until she looked at herself again, with her own eyes. Not through others. And guess what she said? She said, “I am special.”

Maybe pleasing people very close to you is fine, at times. To make them happy which makes you happy. Selfish reason you see: to be happy. But then I guess, shouldn’t get totally into it. So much that you forget who you really are. Who I really am.

I was very young then yes, but I was very certain. I didn’t have that much clarity then yes, but I believed in myself.

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A Psalm of Life

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

            Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

            And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

            And the grave is not its goal;

“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”

            Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

            Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

            Finds us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

            And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

            Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle

            In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

            Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no future, howe’er pleasant!

            Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act – act in the living Present!

            Heart within, and god o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

            We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

            Footprints on the sands of time—

Footprints, that perhaps another,

            Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

            Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

            With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursing,

            Learn to labour and to wait.

-- H. W. Longfellow

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Jane's Dream

It was a struggle. It was a group of three: Me, You and Someone. The struggle was to win, whatever it was. The plan was to split and take up different task, and bring it to an end. It was a physical and mental torture, sort of.

The steps were slippery. I did slip and fall flat on my face. But it was my fault; I was not careful. The fall taught me to be careful. I had to sit down for a while. Not because I was allowing the pain to take over, but because I needed to let it recede a bit and then climb again; can’t walk when head is dizzy right? It was a problem, and I decided to walk over it. No, I was not dodging it. That was its solution. It was slippery. What else does a person do when they slip and fall over wet granite stairs?

It was getting heavier. A knapsack. I had something that you needed. You asked for it, but told me to give it in a way no one notices. But it didn’t matter. I wanted to see you. The frown got to rest the moment I saw you.

I slung the sack on one shoulder. I started walking. You continue beside me, naturally. I tried to open the sack. But my knees buckled because of the weight. The sack fell open on the ground. A few passerbies walked on, throwing a glance back even as the distance grew.

I was back on my feet, exhaustion consuming me. I started wondering, “What is this game about? How come we are struggling when we are not clear about the game?” I broke the ice. I took your hand, placed your arm around my shoulder as if it’s my drape. The familiar scent. The familiar touch. My head resting on your shoulder. Your hold firm on my shoulders as we walked on. I could feel the exhaustion draining out and listen to my own deep breaths. My hands wrapped around your waist as I fell asleep on your shoulders, as if it is the most natural thing.

We stopped. I heard a voice. It was Someone. Someone was not in the group, I learnt late. Someone asked You, “Are you two a team as two different individuals, or one?” To which I heard your reply as I almost began to dream, “We are one, but still different individuals.” I liked the sound of we, I liked the sound of different. That’s when I fell in dreamless sleep.

I wish I can find out who You are. You are familiar. You are a friend. But still I have not seen You. It was peaceful with you. Secure. A sense of togetherness, a sense of belonging. An enormous feeling of pure love. A simple want to be with you.

And understanding that love is not a struggle. Love is not a game. Love is feeling. A deep affection. Love is You and Me. There never is a Someone. It is just You and Me.

But then again, it was a dream.

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Questions

It’s 12:05 pm, and still there is no sun. A hint of grey clouds and still it doesn’t rain. What to believe in and in what to keep hopes sometimes seems absurd. To go with the flow or to try, struggle and go against it? Again sometimes seems absurd.  I don’t understand if finding it absurd is about giving up or is it about having enough and finding a new route. Either way it sounds like giving up. That again is difficult to accept.

What is “worth”? How do I know? Thinking on it, trying to find a way, a solution and feeling relief even if for a moment is illusion then, what is real? What is being lucid? How do I know I’m in illusion?

Pleasing is bad. So I thought. But to the ones I love the most; it doesn’t look that bad when I see them smile. That makes me happy. So is it or is it not? I like the feeling of being happy. Sounds selfish? But still it is not.

What is life about? What do I do? How do I find out? Trying and then waiting for it to work out is like a test on my patience. And I’m running out of it. Is it about being happy? Or is it about being selfish at times to be happy? Or is it about letting go of some things, to let that loved one be happy? How do I learn to let go? Which sounds like giving up to me. A pain.

How do I know when I’m being insanely absurd? Wanting everything I love. Wanting everything.  I’m being ‘freak’ by wanting everything. For some, it’s being greedy. But then why should I care? Everything I’m talking is like a mixture of confused thoughts. Which is again absurd. And I sound like I’m in love with the word absurd.

Being myself. What is that? What is “me” when “being me”, when there are so many “you”? Who is “me” then? How do I know? Sometimes intense. Sometimes extremes. Sometimes vulnerable. Sometimes funny. Sometimes something else. The state of being angry and saying things which I don’t mean, but I would want to mean, just because I’m hurt. Why else would I be angry? But then again wonder why should I be that when after sometime it might not mean anything to me? Why can’t the mind then just skip to that phase and let go? The state of being euphoric. Being self, is being what you feel like at that moment? What is being fake? Is it trying to feel and be that? Is it a lie to others or a lie to self?

Being able to be one thing with everyone, completely true to self, and yet not able to be that self with one specific or maybe two. There is no sense of being a lie to self then, it is just a restriction. Sounds like a restriction to maintain some things, because however hard I try to feel indifferent, it still matters. That is why the restrictions maybe. Or maybe just scared. Or maybe because that specific means more to me and yet wanting that specific to know the other “me”. Is that being “me” in that situation? When I don’t enjoy the restriction and a bit uneasy because of that. What is “me” then? Two or maybe three or maybe four me to different people? Or is it manipulating self according to situation?

Just when I’m about to reach a conclusion about “me”, something new in self is discovered. It is sometimes an amazing feeling. And then again I question, “Who am I?” Who is “me”?

It is difficult to just go on existing. It is not at all agreeable. The questions are frustrating.

Wanting something badly. The value of it is more when not around. How to keep it still when I get it? It kind of lessens, without realizing it. Admitting this is difficult, makes me feel irresponsible to self. But then isn’t it the truth? Sometimes kicking that “something” away and yet feel nothing. Surprises me. Irony. Wanting and then not feeling a bit for it. Feelings are important then?

Else how will I question all this without feeling? How will I think on everything and nothing without feeling? When to know when it is important? Sounds absurd.

Finding an answer, and then leave? Why death? In everything. End of life, end of feelings, end of will at times.  Even if there is a belief that this will last. Why?

There is no end to this. Even if there is an answer, there is a want for a better one. For a sense of satisfaction. Everything has to have a reason? I love you, because? There has to be a reason? I enjoy doing this, because? There has to be a reason? Isn’t it obvious it’s because I love it? And it has to have a reason to your “why”?

It makes me complicated because I think? It makes me all complicated because I want answers? Ignorance is not bliss every time. Fools are ignorant.

What is simple then?

Life? What is it all about?

What was all this about? :-?

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