For a while I wondered the motivation in me to be able to write down something that feels soul filling when done. The feeling that it presents a great opportunity and ‘feelings’ for me to pen down something wonderful just because I own the narrative. And the necessity of this expression is what fuels the need to write it down.
Let me simplify. I have found that when I am low, bogged down with questions of life and trying to go deep into the why of something, I do come with certain conclusions and they propel me into wanting to put it across.
While pondering in this introspection, I also researched quite a few of us brilliant souls, who happened to kill themselves. Chester Bennington’s death really purged that question in me – Why?
Then I happened to remember many as such – Jim, Kurt, Amy, Robin Williams who killed themselves. We accepted their early departure and moved on with pity.
When life treats you a different roller coaster than ordinary people, it takes you to extreme highs and lows. These experiences etch in memory and form patterns to decipher and react to.
Gruelling paradoxes of life really unsettle the deep thinkers. Because life has to make some sense in black and white for them to be able to live this life with one outlook. I hold this obsession too. There is an eternal questioning to mark life in one strong adjective for all. And yet the poets in us resonate with this deep realization that it is never so. Again, what a paradox! In poetry its so beautiful. In reality, we find it so hard to let it go. We do not.
What is black and white? What is this side or the other side? Who are you? Are YOU really there?
In search of these answers, I discovered Vipassana. I have a wise old friend who would bear with my questions and the paradox of answers and he suggested I go away to a Vipassana course because my mind is too seeking and I shall find my answers.
We once saw The Doors and hummed away – Break onto the other side where we spent a long evening discussing what Jim meant.
I finished the divine course and met him again for a rendezvous of my experience and I proudly looked at him as I uttered those impressioned words ‘I broke onto the other side’. Serenely he replied ‘There is no other side.’
Our living is mystical beyond a point. No questions and no answers.
The seeking is what has created the consuming novels, books, songs and the grandeur in any form of story telling. Because we always live in a hope of knowing something more, finding something more. The quest of these seekers and their creations glues millions to follow what has been experienced by them. In commercial terms, it sells. It sells dreams, creates fantasies or an aspiration, a belonging or a longing. At the cost of sanity or life, the creative mind seeks .. relentlessly. Till he has no further answers to himself. He does not know how to stop and live the mystery again. The hopes and dreams of a million people rest on him.