Getting to a place of comfort can be uncomfortable. Remember being born, eh? No...? The witnesses do. The spectators, the participants, the assistants. They are eager to hear the cry - the cry of life. If the child has to live, s/he ought to cry. That will ensure a life. So they strain their ears to hear it - the cry of life. Isn't it incredible how life and tears are inseparable? You cry the moment you are born. You do not remember the pain of birth you have experienced at the time you first saw the light of the day. Out of the womb, out of the comfort zone you inhabited for months, out of that cocoon you thought was your home. A place where you were curled up, literally, with just the fluid you made to keep yourself safe. But you had to come out, and come out you did, to a place that gave you more room, physically speaking, and mentally too. A place for you to grow not just vertically. A place you would know as your home, your city, your country, your planet, your universe. A place to expand your horizons, a place to spread and flap your wings, to get ready for the flights that might define your very being.
What after that .....?
And then the preparation begins. Parents prepare you. Teachers prepare you. At least they try to prepare you - for life. But something else happens too. A clipping of wings, perhaps. An adherence to age-bound, time-bound, culture-bound norms. You question, you are snubbed. You wonder, but your imagination is nipped. You wiggle. You cannot give up. No. You were not born for this. Struggle ensues. There is a rebellion somewhere. A toppling state of affairs. A new birth, maybe. Of new thoughts. Of freedom. From shackles. From bondage of worn-out thoughts.
It is a better place in some sense now. But it was not easy to reach here. Not easy to cross the obstacles. To win over the muddled mazy paths. No - comfort ain't that comfortable. It comes from a stretch of the lazy limbs.
But what if there was no struggle. Would there be a birth then? There would just remain a lull, a halt. No end-point. No beginning. No in-between. No life.
But that does not happen. There has to be life. There has to be action too. Action, willing or otherwise. And it impacts you. It impacts those around you, living and non-living. You don't believe me. Well, sit. Just sit and do nothing. And then get up. Check the seat you sat on. If it is cushioned, it is bumped in. It bears a little indent where you sat. If it is not cushioned, it has still taken your body's heat. It is warm. So, whatever you do, it will have an impact. Willing or otherwise.
A gesture, a smile, a tear, a wind, a rain-drop, a fall, a getting-up, a friend, a foe - they all impact you. They characterize you too. Your smile impacts you and your surroundings by spreading invisible waves of happiness. These waves cheer up the horizon, so to say. Your tears release you from pain, from guilt. They cleanse you and everything around you. Winds impact with the whiffs of scents they carry. Someone is close to you, you are not alone, never. A rain-drop titillates. A cooling sensation it is. A trickling titillation.
You fall. You bruise. You get-up. You put a balm. Bruise covered. But lesson learnt too. What if the lesson was cryptic? What if you fail to understand? Well - simple. You fall again. To get-up again, and again and again. That's how you learn or not learn. That is what spells out your life's path. The actions that you take or refuse to take, and the impact that they leave behind. That is who you are. It is up to you what life you live. A life of living moments or a mere existence of quietus. You choose, you decide. Willingly or otherwise, the day you are born, you get busy living or get busy dying.
What after that .....?
And then the preparation begins. Parents prepare you. Teachers prepare you. At least they try to prepare you - for life. But something else happens too. A clipping of wings, perhaps. An adherence to age-bound, time-bound, culture-bound norms. You question, you are snubbed. You wonder, but your imagination is nipped. You wiggle. You cannot give up. No. You were not born for this. Struggle ensues. There is a rebellion somewhere. A toppling state of affairs. A new birth, maybe. Of new thoughts. Of freedom. From shackles. From bondage of worn-out thoughts.
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| Image Source here |
It is a better place in some sense now. But it was not easy to reach here. Not easy to cross the obstacles. To win over the muddled mazy paths. No - comfort ain't that comfortable. It comes from a stretch of the lazy limbs.
But what if there was no struggle. Would there be a birth then? There would just remain a lull, a halt. No end-point. No beginning. No in-between. No life.
But that does not happen. There has to be life. There has to be action too. Action, willing or otherwise. And it impacts you. It impacts those around you, living and non-living. You don't believe me. Well, sit. Just sit and do nothing. And then get up. Check the seat you sat on. If it is cushioned, it is bumped in. It bears a little indent where you sat. If it is not cushioned, it has still taken your body's heat. It is warm. So, whatever you do, it will have an impact. Willing or otherwise.
A gesture, a smile, a tear, a wind, a rain-drop, a fall, a getting-up, a friend, a foe - they all impact you. They characterize you too. Your smile impacts you and your surroundings by spreading invisible waves of happiness. These waves cheer up the horizon, so to say. Your tears release you from pain, from guilt. They cleanse you and everything around you. Winds impact with the whiffs of scents they carry. Someone is close to you, you are not alone, never. A rain-drop titillates. A cooling sensation it is. A trickling titillation.
You fall. You bruise. You get-up. You put a balm. Bruise covered. But lesson learnt too. What if the lesson was cryptic? What if you fail to understand? Well - simple. You fall again. To get-up again, and again and again. That's how you learn or not learn. That is what spells out your life's path. The actions that you take or refuse to take, and the impact that they leave behind. That is who you are. It is up to you what life you live. A life of living moments or a mere existence of quietus. You choose, you decide. Willingly or otherwise, the day you are born, you get busy living or get busy dying.
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| Image Source here |
Linking it to B-A-R
