Musings on Life

“See life with eyes of an idealist.
Experience it with the heart of a romantic.
Think it through with the mind of a realist.”

Life is so full of paradoxes and absurdities. Isn’t it? Just when we think we have it all figured out, we have a plan in place. It all falls apart and leaves us speechless. Life gives us a knowing smile, throws all our plans out of gear and throws something we never expected our way. Challenging us to respond in a way we never thought we could. Such are the vagaries of life.  The inconsistencies don’t end here, they’ve just about started.  As we grow our capacity to experience unabashed, undiluted childlike joy and wonder goes down the hill. That is because our adult minds force us to block out all unpalatable and unpleasant experiences. As we block out the sadness, bone-crushing, soulful melancholy, we also reduce our capacity to feel happy and experience joy.  With this blocking out we feel the knots of bitterness tying our spirit, making us conceal our hearts beneath layers of reason, dogma and rigidity.

As we get mowed down by the business of living and get trapped in a whirlwind of existing and meeting the demands of a mundane routine, the paradoxes come home to roost more often. If you’ve ever noticed all that we’ve said no to with a vengeance and shunned like plague is sure to come our way. Another of life’s sweet revenges, they say.  Let us be careful of what we shun and escape and what we ask for.  Then there is life’s way of putting us in situations that challenge our beliefs, shatter existing perceptions and ask of us to move on and change, mold ourselves in ways we didn’t think it would be possible.  Yes such are the vagaries of this bittersweet journey called life. And yes there are no guidelines and instructions to live life, we just need to reflect and listen to the voice of our heart and follow it.

The Spell Of Hope

You can

Cast your

Shadows

On my smile

Quell

The ring

Of my laughter

Pierce

My heart

With barbs

Or a jibe

Little

Do you know

I’m not one

Of your tribe

The arrows

Don’t pierce

Me

Your shadows

wouldn’t  touch me

Cause love

Is an armour

Faith my  shield

Hope my spell

Stories Scars Speak

The wounds

That once

Festered and

Bled as

If they’d

Never heal

Now have

Turned into

Scars and

Are starting

To peal

They unfold

A narrative

Of their own

Of times

When

We tripped

Slipped

Or walked alone

From

Scars they

Will turn

Into stars

That we’ll

Wear on

Our soul

Cause they

Were our

Bridge to

Becoming whole

Declutter

Those thoughts that cloud the mind

Leaving a trail of confusion behind

They clutter the brain

Like a torrential shower of rain

They raise such noise and din

That sheer patience starts to wear thin

To add to this mental maze

The winter gust and breeze

Leaves me completely numb

And before can even contemplate a retort

It makes my feelings freeze

 

 

Lust For Life

Traversing through the obfuscated landscape

Called life

Managing to make some sense of all

The chaos and strife

Learning to make music

From the jarring notes of judgmental voices

Knowing how to believe

And stand up for my choices

Seeking to blend with the milieu

And yet stand apart

Not drifting but to flow like a gushing stream

In matters of the heart

Beyond all the malice, deceit and disguise

I’ve learnt to nurture

My own little paradise

 

 

expressions

They soothe, they mar

sometimes they leave a

deep-seated scar

They caress

they sting

Sometime sheer bliss

and sometimes rage

they bring

They hurt and heal

and tell the world

how you feel

They strike a chord

They can reveal all

and yet leave room for

a feeling rather blurred

Once you’ve parted with it

There’s no coming away

from your words

Remnants Of Consciousness…

Somewhere in the crevices of our minds

Dwell half-baked; fledgling ideas

That never saw the light of day

Somewhere in those dark alleys of our cognizance

Wrestle sparks that never quite found the wind

To become full-fledged flames of faith

Somewhere in the fragments of our consciousness

Burrow idealistic notions that bite dust

Ever since reality tread all over them