I was tempered in the embers of sadness. Becoming a unilateral subject to ventilate developing or residual anger on my father’s part, I used to face the adversity in meek gallantry. It never occurred to me to runway from physical harm to save my skin. I always used to close my eyes and my stimulus and senses condition my resistance to arriving impulse of pain.
I could not quite comprehend if its bravery or weakness. For I developed an intuition to experience premonition long before it coagulated. I just used to brace myself and in some strange way I used to feel relieved after the abuse passed by.
It might sound I have been too rude now in bearing my soul and showing the dark side of my father. It is not. In my childhood there are times when I suffered my own mute rebellion within my own heart as tears streamed down losing their own identity in my wiping palms. I used to feel in some innocently special way that what ever I seek is not sought by my other friends and may be… it’s a means for me to become strong in my life. Happiness and total harmony in any family used to baffle me. It is often too unrealistic to watch smiling faces all the time.
I learnt a few good things that are appealing to me over a period of time. I am not sure how it is to be understood in another perspective. But silence and solitude became unseen companions to me. I could sit at a lone corner with no sounds emanating from me for an impressively longer time. May be this is what they call meditation.
Some times the cauldron of deep rooted emotions stirs within when my attention is drawn towards an innocuous scene or sound. A lone child playing in mud afar… a bird chirping incessantly and cattle returning home in methodical precision guided by obscure intelligence. My subconscious emotions at the brink of mutiny suddenly used to lose their potency… I just could not fathom… why my lips bloom in to smile. Smiling feels good. Gut wrenching laughter even feels better. It rakes the innards to a seismic spam and refreshes every blighted corner of heart. I learnt that by observation.
But civility and mannerisms obviated my efforts to enjoy a good laughter when I am in teens. It ended up in an embarrassing and suppressed giggle there by clamping a lid on something that was supposed to be enjoyed in full.
Lessons like men don’t cry… and be a man… are often perplexing terms and artificial. Any emotion is healthy as long as you understand its repercussions and chose to realize the amount in which one must endure. I feel even jelousy and hatered could contribute their own better side if used with discretion. Perhaps this is the reason why women live more and suffer less heart ailments. They do what they please. They cry till toxins in their heart flush away
I see this transparently as moments ran past. I thought I was developing immunity to pain. I thought it would shield me from getting scorched in words that blister my soul. I hardened my own heart in to an unreceptive nonentity. But I was not aware that I can not make myself immune to happiness and joy that sprouts at undiscovered regions of my heart. Some times walking on road I suddenly smile for no reason. An embarrassing attempt to conceal my joy in bowing my head and making myself reclusive of my surroundings… is all I could do.
I have been deprived of physical touch at a personal level in my life. I was too arrogant in my childhood to notice my own mother’s attempts to hug me. In my teens I was too disorienting in categorizing the much needed contact and some times loath the same with profound intensity. I was scared of opposite sex in my growing years. I am not sure to what ghost in my life I could attribute this to.
In my own solitude’s protective cocoon, I started recalibrating myself to what’s essential in life. I realized the importance of communication, tenderness, empathy, wit and wisdom. Blooming so late in life is too exciting and too disappointing too. I made a few very good friends on internet that probably I could never have made in my real life with my mirror cracking looks and obvious lack of attraction towards power, money and ambition.
I just wish live life like a butterfly. To loiter and wander in wide eyed awe and earn a little to fill my famished gut now and then. I watch luxuries and orderliness around me in fascination that lasts only for a few minutes. Moments later I only look how genuine the smiles I see on faces and how intense the desire to combat pain. To live beneath a leaf in dark night… and shrivel in rain heading towards an impending death...
Physical pain hurts me no more.
In the fundamentals of science it’s stated that matter or energy could neither be created nor destroyed. This seems to have taken another dimension in my own self. The way I trained my own self immune to physical pain has encountered an unseen adversary. I discovered that I get hurt by unkind words.
I do not know if it’s a counter current developed towards my perceived faith towards being an unconditional contributor towards love. Towards offering a sense of companionship and support. To treat a chosen few as my complete responsibility. It’s always strange not to see the common picture that everyone else is not as isolated as me. They have their own support structure in the form of social net.
Sure I could not dwell deep in to their hearts to seek pleasures and pearls. But I dive deep within myself to seek pleasures and pearls… to offer them in my hands extended. I often do foolish things to make them smile and they sometimes smile not. Can not blame them for their impatience and irritation. For the root cause is my own ignorance, fallacy and error in judgment. Why could I not understand that everyone is not like a child who always receive everything in happiness from my hand… be it a dead leaf or a stray pebble.
I feel pain surge from the depths of my heart and try to reach my eyes. And my brain tries its best to push the pain back deep where it comes from. My eyes pave way for the pain to flow out. A thin film of tears envelops the surface of my eyes. And then they too get disappointed. The tears won’t come. The pain won’t go.
I wonder if growing up is a boon or bane. For as we grow we lose our sense of absolute honesty and develop relative honesty.
Our innocense has no distinction and bounds to enjoy anything the way we wish. We could sleep in deep slumber and roll as we like, chomp on our little thumb and cry as we like. We could jump from joy to pain and pain to placidity as we chose.
We grow in controlled atmosphere that’s littered with values morals discipline and experiences. This guides our own guides… I mean our elders to chose a path in which we must travel and this I what I am terming as relative honesty. Relative honesty is never absolute with respect to what I am comfortable with. I am not telling that I still retain the absolute honesty that I enjoyed when I was a child and not at all aware of that. But I feel I still retain a few streaks of absolute honesty as I am a recluse in my own world.
I thank all those who hurt me for they have been contributing their best to make me stronger still. I am profoundly grateful to those who hurt me and come back to me still to tend my wounds… for they anneal my brittle soul with their compassion. They make me smile again in boundless innocence. I wait for those who will come back to me eventually. I have no such direction as faith that guides me. All I look for is… what I anticipate not… Be it pain or pleasure….
I could not quite comprehend if its bravery or weakness. For I developed an intuition to experience premonition long before it coagulated. I just used to brace myself and in some strange way I used to feel relieved after the abuse passed by.
It might sound I have been too rude now in bearing my soul and showing the dark side of my father. It is not. In my childhood there are times when I suffered my own mute rebellion within my own heart as tears streamed down losing their own identity in my wiping palms. I used to feel in some innocently special way that what ever I seek is not sought by my other friends and may be… it’s a means for me to become strong in my life. Happiness and total harmony in any family used to baffle me. It is often too unrealistic to watch smiling faces all the time.
I learnt a few good things that are appealing to me over a period of time. I am not sure how it is to be understood in another perspective. But silence and solitude became unseen companions to me. I could sit at a lone corner with no sounds emanating from me for an impressively longer time. May be this is what they call meditation.
Some times the cauldron of deep rooted emotions stirs within when my attention is drawn towards an innocuous scene or sound. A lone child playing in mud afar… a bird chirping incessantly and cattle returning home in methodical precision guided by obscure intelligence. My subconscious emotions at the brink of mutiny suddenly used to lose their potency… I just could not fathom… why my lips bloom in to smile. Smiling feels good. Gut wrenching laughter even feels better. It rakes the innards to a seismic spam and refreshes every blighted corner of heart. I learnt that by observation.
But civility and mannerisms obviated my efforts to enjoy a good laughter when I am in teens. It ended up in an embarrassing and suppressed giggle there by clamping a lid on something that was supposed to be enjoyed in full.
Lessons like men don’t cry… and be a man… are often perplexing terms and artificial. Any emotion is healthy as long as you understand its repercussions and chose to realize the amount in which one must endure. I feel even jelousy and hatered could contribute their own better side if used with discretion. Perhaps this is the reason why women live more and suffer less heart ailments. They do what they please. They cry till toxins in their heart flush away
I see this transparently as moments ran past. I thought I was developing immunity to pain. I thought it would shield me from getting scorched in words that blister my soul. I hardened my own heart in to an unreceptive nonentity. But I was not aware that I can not make myself immune to happiness and joy that sprouts at undiscovered regions of my heart. Some times walking on road I suddenly smile for no reason. An embarrassing attempt to conceal my joy in bowing my head and making myself reclusive of my surroundings… is all I could do.
I have been deprived of physical touch at a personal level in my life. I was too arrogant in my childhood to notice my own mother’s attempts to hug me. In my teens I was too disorienting in categorizing the much needed contact and some times loath the same with profound intensity. I was scared of opposite sex in my growing years. I am not sure to what ghost in my life I could attribute this to.
In my own solitude’s protective cocoon, I started recalibrating myself to what’s essential in life. I realized the importance of communication, tenderness, empathy, wit and wisdom. Blooming so late in life is too exciting and too disappointing too. I made a few very good friends on internet that probably I could never have made in my real life with my mirror cracking looks and obvious lack of attraction towards power, money and ambition.
I just wish live life like a butterfly. To loiter and wander in wide eyed awe and earn a little to fill my famished gut now and then. I watch luxuries and orderliness around me in fascination that lasts only for a few minutes. Moments later I only look how genuine the smiles I see on faces and how intense the desire to combat pain. To live beneath a leaf in dark night… and shrivel in rain heading towards an impending death...
Physical pain hurts me no more.
In the fundamentals of science it’s stated that matter or energy could neither be created nor destroyed. This seems to have taken another dimension in my own self. The way I trained my own self immune to physical pain has encountered an unseen adversary. I discovered that I get hurt by unkind words.
I do not know if it’s a counter current developed towards my perceived faith towards being an unconditional contributor towards love. Towards offering a sense of companionship and support. To treat a chosen few as my complete responsibility. It’s always strange not to see the common picture that everyone else is not as isolated as me. They have their own support structure in the form of social net.
Sure I could not dwell deep in to their hearts to seek pleasures and pearls. But I dive deep within myself to seek pleasures and pearls… to offer them in my hands extended. I often do foolish things to make them smile and they sometimes smile not. Can not blame them for their impatience and irritation. For the root cause is my own ignorance, fallacy and error in judgment. Why could I not understand that everyone is not like a child who always receive everything in happiness from my hand… be it a dead leaf or a stray pebble.
I feel pain surge from the depths of my heart and try to reach my eyes. And my brain tries its best to push the pain back deep where it comes from. My eyes pave way for the pain to flow out. A thin film of tears envelops the surface of my eyes. And then they too get disappointed. The tears won’t come. The pain won’t go.
I wonder if growing up is a boon or bane. For as we grow we lose our sense of absolute honesty and develop relative honesty.
Our innocense has no distinction and bounds to enjoy anything the way we wish. We could sleep in deep slumber and roll as we like, chomp on our little thumb and cry as we like. We could jump from joy to pain and pain to placidity as we chose.
We grow in controlled atmosphere that’s littered with values morals discipline and experiences. This guides our own guides… I mean our elders to chose a path in which we must travel and this I what I am terming as relative honesty. Relative honesty is never absolute with respect to what I am comfortable with. I am not telling that I still retain the absolute honesty that I enjoyed when I was a child and not at all aware of that. But I feel I still retain a few streaks of absolute honesty as I am a recluse in my own world.
I thank all those who hurt me for they have been contributing their best to make me stronger still. I am profoundly grateful to those who hurt me and come back to me still to tend my wounds… for they anneal my brittle soul with their compassion. They make me smile again in boundless innocence. I wait for those who will come back to me eventually. I have no such direction as faith that guides me. All I look for is… what I anticipate not… Be it pain or pleasure….
No comments:
Post a Comment