I’m sitting on this vermillion park bench. Two children on bicycles, a parent running after them, scaring away pigeons feeding on bread crumbs. It’s going to be sunset time in a couple of hours and another day will settle among the infinitesimally vast treasure that is the past of all of our lives. Sonder, I see the parallel lives of a billion men and women unfolding right in front of me. Talking, kissing, whispering, shouting, lip-syncing, mouthing, anything that involved the use of a pair of lips, caught my attention. Humans evading each day, trying to cover up their broken and dying minds with thoughtless loops of logging into Facebook and Twitter, seemingly trying to show that life is good. Isn’t life completely shattered when you realize your dependency upon gadgets is more than what you’d ever have upon any parallel human? But life is good, you’re still breathing if you’re reading this, you have your eyesight intact, and you’re alive.
Not an expert at making people live their lives. Not an expert at living my own. Life is unfolding as I’m putting these words to paper. Life is unfolding as you read this. Life will still be unfolding as you die and merge with the planet. So why don’t you already? Not by death, but by the parting of everything that holds you still. Feel yourself existing as a duality. The duality, the absence of which is why you want to live with all your pessimistic desires; the same duality you shun. You and I are two people, coexisting with four more that live between us. The one you think you are, the person you are and the person you are striving to be. Maybe it’s not so much a duality as much as a triviality. Maybe it’s the niggling thoughts in your head that stop you on your racetrack. Or the conventions that make you part of the society. A society. The collective non-existence of 7 billion humans. Making rules for life but never failing to chide you about the same. Making you rules for happiness, never giving a single reason in return.
Stop and smell the flowers that you put your heart into growing. Hold hands and jump on overgrown grass even though you may get stabbed by the small pebbles. I want to live without being told how to do it. Senselessly borne into a rigorous thought process and a sole target. Money. We hate our work. We hate the daily cycles we become a part of. And lack courage. We all lack immense courage to just saying a single word. No. Money that is the means to an end. Which end, we don’t know. Why do we hate this? Why does life become boring? You are anything but boring. You are breathing, seeing, loving, feelings pieces of wonderful machinery. The result of the love streaming through you to become webs of more love to ensnare the other wonderful machines that connect to your web. Forgetting how to connect webs, we now break those delicate strings. We make sure no one can spin the webs and we make sure ours remain confined. Touch, smell, taste, hear, see. 5 senses to help you get through not one to even help you feel.
Run through water when you stand on a beach. Jump the cliffs when you want to miss a heartbeat. Kiss your beloved when you think of your web. Nowhere will you senses refuse when your mind is silenced. Your relationship with this planet is only one, don’t be so absorbed listening to your mind that you forget the collective consciousness that binds you to your life.


1 Comment

  1. Reblogged this on Denouement and commented:
    In these delicate moments that pass while you and I continue to exist, it’s important to realise how we all are parts of a singular reality, striving towards singularity. Living through these infinite experiences which await us, expect us to live through them, to be able to see the bigger picture, and to realise how we are all parts of the same puzzle; trying to find where we fit in.


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