A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free.
Well, well, well.. I know - I've been away for a year, and have broken all my promises to myself. I haven't blogged in a year, and return chastened - hoping I shall make up for lost time.
The truth is, my mind has been swimming in a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts. I finally quit my dead-end job at AOL and got out of Bangalore. I'm much happier to be back in Madras, even though it's ridiculously hot and sweaty.
I bought my self a new bike and stopped driving my car and lo - presto! Freedom!!!!!
I had caught myself in the age-old trap - the symptoms of success - car, bungalow, regular salary, steadiness, boredom, depression.
I kept hoping things would get better. And then, luckily, I shook myself awake and reminded me that nothing was gonna get better unless I forced destiny's hand.
The enemy of freedom is complacence.
So I'm out, unemployed again, and happy once more. Desperately searching for meaning again, for a cause or person to attach myself to until that loses meaning too.
The cycle of life...
I have been travelling, taking long distance trips through South India on my new motorcycle. I've been staying up till 5am, reading books and watching movies.
I've been making love without worrying about what I have to do next, and if I'm going to be late for an appointment.
I've been eating when I'm hungry and drinking when I'm thirsty. No more "three meals a day routine for me!"
I feel like Walt Whitman again, sounding my barbaric yawp out over the roofs of this world.
I am able to cry again at the sight of a raindrop on a leaf of grass, at cloud formation in the sky, feel emotion choking up in me at the sight of a flower, a moment, a beautiful smile...
I am alive again.
The little things matter again.
My voice has, hopefully, returned, and you shall hear it again!
- Nikos Kazantzakis
Well, well, well.. I know - I've been away for a year, and have broken all my promises to myself. I haven't blogged in a year, and return chastened - hoping I shall make up for lost time.
The truth is, my mind has been swimming in a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts. I finally quit my dead-end job at AOL and got out of Bangalore. I'm much happier to be back in Madras, even though it's ridiculously hot and sweaty.
I bought my self a new bike and stopped driving my car and lo - presto! Freedom!!!!!
I had caught myself in the age-old trap - the symptoms of success - car, bungalow, regular salary, steadiness, boredom, depression.
I kept hoping things would get better. And then, luckily, I shook myself awake and reminded me that nothing was gonna get better unless I forced destiny's hand.
The enemy of freedom is complacence.
So I'm out, unemployed again, and happy once more. Desperately searching for meaning again, for a cause or person to attach myself to until that loses meaning too.
The cycle of life...
I have been travelling, taking long distance trips through South India on my new motorcycle. I've been staying up till 5am, reading books and watching movies.
I've been making love without worrying about what I have to do next, and if I'm going to be late for an appointment.
I've been eating when I'm hungry and drinking when I'm thirsty. No more "three meals a day routine for me!"
I feel like Walt Whitman again, sounding my barbaric yawp out over the roofs of this world.
I am able to cry again at the sight of a raindrop on a leaf of grass, at cloud formation in the sky, feel emotion choking up in me at the sight of a flower, a moment, a beautiful smile...
I am alive again.
The little things matter again.
My voice has, hopefully, returned, and you shall hear it again!
3 comments:
*offers a potted plant to celebrate this much required and glorious phase of your life*
i apologise if my gift seems a bit of an anticlimax after ole arnold's up there....but y know what they say..."potted plants can indeed live up to porn..."
....
..will come back sometime in the not too distant future to look out for any new posts..until then..
arrivedercci!
Ah..who are we to comment on someone's courage or his lack of it? What are the standards we measure those by? Why must I be shy of my fears, my need to cry and my wariness of a new world?
some desire, some passion, a tinge of the unknown...madness has a life of its own that struggles, every passing moment and dares...oh and it so dares.
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