Me, Myself and Insanity

The festive season has much to offer in terms of joy and happiness. I still remember those moments where we used to decorate the christmas tree with lots of colored trinkets and ornaments of all shapes and sizes that it became rather comical. But of course we were pardoned as our unwitting actions were the result of childish fancies and over excitement. Nevertheless, as I write this particular entry I sit in darkness on the cold marble floor in front of the same tree only now it is decorated with more precision and perhaps a better choice in style and color ( which is better, in a fashionable sense and as it also happens to feature my favourite colors blue and silver) As the years passed before us, the tradition of decorating the Christmas tree became a distinct ritual within the family which was pretty ironic as we, my family that is, are devout Hindus. I know, weird, but the reason that we so faithfully celebrate this occasion is to commomerate my late grandmother who was by the nature of her name the most graceful creature to cross this side of the earth. She was a person of a firm but yet tender and compassionate nature. I truly miss her and her memory burns so incandescently especially during these times.
The joys of the festive season bring about much hope and remembrance. It initiates a soulful walk down memory lane and ends with a desired destination of hope and prescience. Even now, I can recall a very distinct memory of my mother wagging her finger at my brother, who was then at an age that rendered him everything within grasp, saying, "It isn’t the presence that make the holiday. It is the joy within it. It’s how much you give and not how much you get." I felt those words very deeply that day and no matter what, I make it a personal annual ambition to dutifully load and pile the base of the tree with as much gifts and little give-aways as my bank account or savings could possibly manage. I’m not a spend thrift or philanthropist but being part of a family that charity has been so infused into it only seems natural that this generosity is inherited genetically ( I do mean this seriously, no pun intended) The smile on the faces that receive their little gifts are truly priceless. To be honest, I don’t really spend much on individual gifts. I prefer adding the personal touch to my presents rather than shop buying them all the time ( yes, yes, I know I’m no Da Vinci or anything but its not all that appalling) It is almost as if I give a little part of me with each bestowal and that truly means a lot to me.
Of course as much as one can give, being only human and being born with an innate sense of expectation we tend to ask ourselves, what about me? What do we get at the end of the day? What about what I want? The last question I asked myself sparked a thought within me that I had not brought to my own attention, what is it that my heart truly desired? I reflected upon all that I had, and for once I wanted to be brutally honest with myself by answering the question based on its fundamentals. What is it that I WANT and not what I NEED? After approximately three hours (which is a rather sizeable accomplishment on my part as leaving me to decide what I want for dinner is an impossible task, I’m that indecisive) I garnered the courage to embrace the truth. I am not going to divulge what it is that my heart craves for to the public eye of course, but rest assured that with the tick of the clock indicating the welcome of Christmas, I finally found the courage to do my heart justice.
For months now, I had been agonizing over a rather trivial issue that concerned sentimental values and addressed matters of the heart. I had been plagued and basically I found myself incapable of anything as tears streamed my face at the mere thought of the enigma that had engulfed me emotionally. It was a harrowing ordeal and I shudder at the recollections of its memory. I yearned for understanding of the situation but after some despairing times, chose to shun it out of thought. As I so bluntly say, I chose to shun it out of thought, I could not do the same with my heart. I found myself constantly thinking of a certain person that I so desperately wished to talk to. Wishing so hard that I could exchange a few words and understand or rather make this person understand me, I looked through everyday at some possible ways of reestablishing something that I had lost.
It was not as easy as I thought though. I pride myself on my strength but somehow in this particular circumstance, my unmatched courage failed me miserably. I found myself staring at my phone for long antagonizing hours unable to press the button to connect the call (yeah, I had already scrolled to the number, imagine that) I found myself writing incredibly long messages on my phone, e-mail and even through my friendster but hung on to the very last second hesitating to push the send icon that finally resulting in a lost for momentum as I would end up clicking the delete or cancel button. Silly,isn’t it? But this was not the worst, I would stare at this person’s profile blankly and wonder if it was safe to view it afraid to reveal the plain fact that I had done so.
Now, as I look upon it, it does seem really silly and even ridiculous but then again the angst that my heart had born was no match for triviality at any given point. I was not ready to take any chances and to be ridiculed again was a matter that I was not in the least prepared for. So, why the change of heart now? Simple. I believe in miracles. No, I am not deluded nor mentally depraved, Yes. As simple as I have said it. I believe in miracles. I believe in the joys of the season. I believe in the magic that has lived on through the innocence that children so beautifully harbor in their delicate hearts and fragile souls. Their untainted minds that give birth to the beauties of magic, transporting them to a realm of fantasy, hope and dreams. Virtues and ignorence become their strength and nothing daunts them. This is what makes Christmas so beautiful. Like my mother so wisely said, it isn’t how much you get but how much you give. For the more that you give, the joy your heart gets.
The more happiness and content fills your soul. It satisfies the craving that your heart desires for. It quenches the thirst of laughter and smiles. It brings about an ambience that we can dream and now live. But most of all it brings hope of the impossible. By bestowing faith in such seasons, we dare to believe in the magic and the miracles that it so plainly allows and even encourages us to. Hope is incarnated and it burns so passionately within the depths of our souls. A time for forgiveness, pardon, happiness, content and laughter. Such times that once seemed like a fairy tale now lives in our hearts, in our dreams and in our souls.
I begin to see why this holiday is so important. For it implements and accentuates the fact that memories and faith is what keeps us alive. It is what feeds our soul and heart. As I stare at the brightly lit tree, I begin to understand that, even if I can’t be with the person that want to, I have what’s important to me, surrounding me at all times. My family. The light of my life. He will always of course have a place in my heart, but this Christmas has shown me something new. It isn’t what you have, but what you believe you will. What you already possess within yourself to keep your hope alight. To me, the memory of this person, the smile he wore, th laughter he had, the sound of his voice are the simple yet fondest reminiscents that I have and this is sufficient to me to keep me grateful and satisfied with the sole consolation of having his presence grace my life. With this I can live another million Christmases. The hope and dreams that Christmas brings are truly what miracles are all about.

“To err is human but to forgive is divine". This is a saying that I have always kept close to my heart. I believed in its principle and I truly respected the form of elevating one’s position to such an esteemed level with such a noble act. Yet, there were upon many occasions where I used to sit and wonder why is it such a noble act? How difficult is it to accept an apology of a repentant figure, one that has swallowed all pride and succumbed to the incision of guilt? I mean I’m sure the person begging the pardon is suffering a great deal more shame and pain, in terms of emotionally and if it is a matter of social inclination that is included as well. How then is the forgiver the one that is noble? By opening his heart to a sincere apology? Is it fair to subject them to such judgments? Somehow, the way that I seem to be narrating this issue, I may be portraying that of a defensive side. Well, to be completely honest I have viewed both perspectives and addressing the fact that I am after all human, I believe it safe to claim that I bear with me the knowledge of actually being on both sides to furnish me with enough details to deliberate.
The forgiver is seen as the more prominent of the two beings. Seeing that he is willing to overlook the wrong and injustice that has been done to him, he is thus elevated to the status of a divine being. Yes, it remains undeniable that the forgiver has suffered a great deal and perhaps even a loss on his behalf may have been rendered, but how many people have been wronged in life? How many still persist on with their arduous life styles? I don’t mean the imply that people should just grit their teeth and allow their fate and rights to be manipulated by the likes of others all in the name of the existence of apologies, but I do want to show how trivial it does seem, the pain the forgiver bears when contrasted with that of the forgiven. I am not defending the sins committed or perpetrated by the forgiven, and neither am I condoning it. But, the point that I am so determined to emphasize and highlight is merely that the it takes a great deal of courage, strength and inner confidence to actually own up to a mistake and even more to confess to a number of individuals especially if it does mean that embarrassment and humiliation is unavoidable. To know danger and to walk right into it is courageous but to know humiliation and accept the consequences of emotional torment all in the sake of mending mistakes so that justice and truth prevails is by far more stalwart than any act I have ever had the honor of coming across.
The pain that the forgiver bears pales in comparison to the plight that the forgiven holds close to heart. Think about it, sleepless nights, moments that aggrieve the soul, the guilt that not only torments but also haunts and plagues the conscience. This of course concerns individuals that actually possess a conscience and of course the essence of remorse. Of course I speak of one that is credited with a sense of dignity and morality, and for anyone with an esteem such as this the pain that accompanies guilt weighes down upon the soul like a ton of bricks. No one can even imagine how much this agony is capable of ripping a person’s heart to shreds and furthermore when the people involved in this sentimental calamity are loved ones and those that are held close to the heart, the travail multiplies by an incomprehensibly enormous number. Tears that streak the pale and cold cheeks every waking moment is enough to tear at any hurt. Who said words can’t kill? They sure can and words also holds within its grasp the miraculous gift of healing any wounds especially those associated with the fragile nature of the heart. It may seem pretty exaggerated at this point of time, but unless they have undergone such turmoil at a personal expense then I suppose clarity doesn’t come as easily as it should.
But one thing that is more detrimental than the pain of forgiveness is in fact its adverse action. The overwhelming pain of guilt can only be matched and rather be exceeded by the trauma of forbearance. The only possibility of eradicating guilt is when forgiveness comes into play, however antagonizing as it may be, it relinquishes the grasp of guilt by a fraction that is minute but yet truly essential to the recuperation of the soul. But when forgiveness itself eludes us, we have to deal with the distressing position of always standing within the spotlight of the erred. Unable to move on as the conscience craves for pardon and atonement, denial to such a request is pretty much inhuman. Well, to be fair to the wronged, perhaps forgiveness may be a little too much to ask but the simple gesture of humanity is bearable. And every entity that annexes a conscience I believe deep within me, deserves a chance at expiation.
Why lash out at those who have repented? What sort of sadistic delectation is attained from someone else’s torment? What then differs us from those who have no soul? Is it just? I am no saint and I have to admit that I do bear grudges and this is perfectly normal as I am only human but I do not certainly ignore and turn away from sincerity when it strikes on my door even if it comes from someone who’s grounding stands against them. Being the individual that I am, if I do not believe in second chances then I would be the most heartless hypocritical creature ever to have graced the surface of this earth as I have graced through numerous second chances. I can’t say that everyone would share my perspective but I do rather unpretentiously hope that others would at least bear a thought in this direction of emotional atonement. You don’t have to be a saint by forgiving but atleast don’t be a murderer of the heart by implying ignorance for nothing is more unbearable than being shunned and cast aside. Please don’t kill for no one deserves the pain that this act of insensitivity can procure.

Words carry an enormous burden of potraying and depicting circumstances, conveying messages and outlining and prescriptions and descriptions. They state clearly matters in black and white leaving little room for misinterpretation or misunderstanding. Yet, even with the minute possibility of such an occurence actually happening, I suppose sins finds its way. The possibility of error and mistake comes across as drawing a margin and perhaps even preparing us to accept the worse but to me it just leaves a gaping hole in our confidence in outruling wrong once and for all.
In allowing even the slightest possibility of err to exist, we subconsciously permit our mind to accept in a certain way. I’m not saying that perfection is a tractable and even possible feature in every circumstance but I suppose it isn’t wrong to assume so, is it? Now I do sound a tad delusional don’t I? Take a way the tad, and I’d have hit the nail right on the head. It’s ludicrous to even insinuate that perfection could possibly exist in such a time and era when human need and well, greed is insatiable. Since when have we ever been satisfied by anything? Of course this drive of ours has been a motivation to many to achieve all goals and dreams that life had once deemed impossible. I mean, without the desire for want of improvement, we would not have realized our dreams of wanting to send a man to the moon or in fact, to spell things out, we can’t possibly be standing where we are today(besides the fact that most of us would have perished to ailments, diseases and procuring illnesses) as without the basic necessity that progress has bestowed upon us, we would have been wiped out.
But then again, when this desire manifests itself into a force that is so persistent and omnipotent, we find that it transforms itself from a positive criteria into one of the Deadly Sins (as I like to call it) lust, greed and the everlasting need of insatiable satisfaction. Said in this manner it almost seems like the Devil himself had churned this feature within us, but the truth is quite the contrary. This character within all of us is innate and it develops over time and nurture. The drive to achieve paragon has driven many realists over the edge and laboring idealists all over the world.
Seen in this perspective this idiosyncratic seems quite scary, doesn’t it? It is pretty ironic as we live by its very principle everyday of our lives. Parents expect the best out of their children in terms of fillial duty, academic and curricular performance and children expect the best in terms of material wealth and monetary needs that parents so dutifully abide by. Sometimes, I sit and ponder at how much appraisal I had inherited. It almost pales in comparison to the number of times that an insult or rather a harsh word had been thrown in my directions clearly indicating my downfalls and faults. At times, others tend to misinterpret youngsters deeming them hard headed and stubborn making them seem almost inept at understanding emotions and accepting advice. Thus, parents make the worst mistake of berating bitterly and cacophonously thinking that if they can’t get through to their children mildly they might as well go all the way and punish them with words.
"Sticks and stones can break your bones but words can never kill". This is saying is the most foolish of its kind in my opinion. Sticks and stones may break bones that may one day heal but the detriment caused by and irretractable word thrown to one with a fragile nature in irreversible. Pain and anguish to the heart has a far more pyschologically pernicious nature than all that physical abuse may render. Words have a way of penetrating an individual’s soul and embedding itself deep within the corners of their hearts while slowly allowing its presence to eat away at the person’s sanity moment by moment. These words of resentment will ring in the recepients ears in eternity, corroding the person’s confidence and tainting the view of themselves eventually killing all hope of healing within their hearts and soul.
Words thrown to someone can never be retracted and the damage done is ameliorated in any way. So, display anger in ways that allows you to channel them positively and show your dissatisfaction in many manners but never articulate anger at another being as the pain they endure in result is unbearable. No one is perfect and this is something that not only parents, but every other entity needs to come to terms with, so instead of throwing a cynical comment about how bad your child’s grades are, tell him that if he needs help you’re always there. Don’t hurt your child with words if he has erred but console him with advice and comfort. Enforce regulations with a stern and firm resolution but never abuse him with words of his imperfections. Sticks and stones can trickle blood but words can trickle streams of tears and unending agony to the soul. This is the power of words, its majestic paramountcy and supremacy. If this efficacy is wielded wrongly the consequences can be more than lethal to emotion and mentality.

Life was once a box of chocolates,
Never did I know how it felt when the heart hurts,
Always took things for granted,
Now all I feel is neglect and shunted,
Every cloud has a silver lining,
I always believed that my star would always be shining,
But the star has burnt out,
The confidence replaced by pain and doubt,
Uncertainty stirs a storm,
My life set away from norm,
Painful as it may seem,
I despise to find that many deem,
Me fit for charity,
For the last I need is a glance of sympathy,
I need nothing of the sort,
Claim and retort,
What I need is confidence,
A stroke of independence,
A feeling of trust,
A feeling that life can be at times just,
This is what my heart desires,
This is what builds my raging fires,
I live another moment in hope and dreams,
In which light my hope momentarily gleams….

As far as I can remember, people come and go as often as they can throughout our lives. We try to hold onto them as much as we can but sooner or later, there comes a phase in life where they began immersing back into the background from they first emerged from. Friends come and go, best friends come and disappear for long whiles and well, as far as romance and other such adolescent profligacies go, they appear as mysteriously as they vanish. Sometimes it seems a little intimidating as we fear that all the figures that stood by us so strongly and supportively now begin fading away through the cycle of life. It almost indicates a lonely ending to our existence.
Then of course with all this pondering, fleeting images of deaying teeth and senile chattering at the corner of an abandoned old folks’ home comes to haunt us in ourthoughts. Yikes! I am TOO sure that there is no way that I would end up that way but nevertheless, the thought does seem very daunting. The existence or the manifestation of such a thought does leave room for deliberation upon the subject however. Sometimes, well, since its my blog I might as well be painfully honest about it. Most of the times, I sit reflecting the person I was and the person I am and the person that I’m bound to become, which breathes life to all sorts of puzzlements and anguishes as well as much anticipated excitement. I plot and plan and predict all at the same time but there remains a part of me that keep I have not explored yet. In fact, this unchartered territory within me holds depths that I fear, I don’t have the dexterity to handle just yet. It brings about so many questions that pertains myself that well, I am not in full capacity to address at the current moment. I’m still a flower blooming (metaphorically, of course) and there is a greater depths of me that I have to understand before I can derive a safe conclusion about who I truly am. Maybe at this moment, the safest saying to abide by would be, some secrets are best left unearthed.
There is so much to life than we truly understand. Life is not all about the mass accumulation of material wealth, nor is it about the health and preservation of life form neither is it about how much intelligence and knowledge we have acquired within our lifetime. Every person seems so interested and captivated by the after thought of life, the derivation of what they had earned by the end of the day that the most important criterias in life lay forgotten. My father isn’t a man that has a worldly sense of intellect or impeccable intelligence in any way, but there is one thing that I proudly acclaim he has, an astounding sense of equilibrium between his intellectual perception and his emotional quotient. He has so wisely inherited the secret to life and of course like most fathers, tenderly enriched me with his profound erudition.
"Life is not about what you achieve, its about how you achieve it. Life is not about how much you inherited but how much you contributed. Life is not about who remembers you but what they remember you for." These words will ring in my ears till the day I breathe my last breath but till then I will carry it to the ends of the world with me. I can see now why the saying "Behind every succesful man there is a woman" My mother has definately been a pillar of support. Never crumbling in the eyes of a storm, unflinching to terror and unshaken by the due detriments that all individuals encounter. She has and always will be the backbone of the family. There is one thing that I have failed to mention prior to all this. I had uncovered the puzzle to the many riddles that once plagued my senses and pervaded it with a dreadful notion of loneliness.
As long as I have these two figures in flesh and in soul with me, how could I possibly ever claim to be alone? Even if they are one day, to be consumed by the very earth that incarnated them, they will continue to prevail in my heart, mind and soul making them forever immortalized to me. Having realized that although their presence may fade, and theyre flesh may dissolve into the earth once more, the life that they breathed into my soul and the life that they envisioned I will have will continously pound through every heart beat and pulse through every nerve and vein of this soul. To me, if Shakespeare his love through his sonnets, I will do the very same. I will immortalize the very souls that blessed my perseity by breathing life to their dreams and wishes. They will live through me. They will continue to see the world through my eyes, breathe the air through my lungs and feel the world through my touch. They will live through the teachings that they blessed and through the moments that they’ve shared. To me, they are already immortal.

Every morning I awaken to a single thought and resolution. One saying plays over in my head like a recorder, enforcing my thought and cementing my resolution. " Time heals all wounds". What a saying. I’ve always held it close to my heart (seeing that this is the part of me that usually required the most healing) as I truly believed that time had the power to mend broken fences, limbs and of course most naturally hearts. But sometimes when you have a mind that wonders of as frequently as mine, you tend to ask yourself more than once, how long or rather, how much time does it take to heal a deeply wounded heart? Sometimes I begin to view my principle rather dubiously. My principles in life have always guidelined and helped navigate my actions and life’s path, but recently, I feel that my entire life has taken a tumultuous upheavel of late. Every move I’ve made seem to have disastrous consequences and all of my effort at rectifying my life’s calamities only seem to exacerbate the problems.
I have caught myself often puzzled about what I was supposed to understand about all these piling problems in my life that seem to be sprouting about like fungi. Somehow, my solid guideline doesn’t seem so sturdy as I watch my life crumble before my very eyes. It does seem somehow extraordinary and in a somewhat twisted way, amusing to discover the real essence of life in the most unexpected places. Amazement might hit you like a ton of bricks but I found it in the very place I refused to even glance, right at home.
Yes, that’s right. Take in your enormous gasps of incredulity and let those eyeballs pop within their sockets. I found my answers within the very four walls that I have been so reluctantly held captive in. I resisted furiously of course, the natural rebellion that blossomed within my soul catalyzed by the teen age that accompanied. But after the veil of adolescence descended, heart broken, soul shattered, trivial enjoyment cast aside, it was time to embrace life for its actual exemplification. The time had come to delve into life with a mature approach to life and accept the hardship that had come with the reconciliation of my sorrowful past (resulted in my actions of course). With the necessary precautions, steps and amendments perfectly executed with the unwavering support of my parents coupled with their unflinching faith I managed to rectify nearly all the damage that I had inflicted upon myself.
Of course with all the help I was getting, or what I’m portraying, it would seem that my life had become a blissful heaven all over again. However, sadly enough that I have to disappoint, life wasn’t a bed of roses. There were still tiny shards of my shattered life that had not been completely obliterated. There were loose ends that were screaming to be tied up and bits and pieces scattered about. I truly held on to the saying, " time heals all wounds", believing that all those loose ends will shrink away in the course of time. But most essentially I truly postulated my heart to heal as well. I thought that as time passed through the days, hours and minutes, the pain will dissipate and the angst will dissolve with the laughter that I believed would arrive with the future that I grew accustomed to anticipate.
It never came. My healing never took place and I lay battered today as I did on the very day of the incident. I awake every morning, including the morning of the mentioned, and I suppose the morning and the many more mornings to follow with the pain that weighs so drastically over my now timid heart. Bruised and zinged I began to grow weary of this wait, fearing that it may never come my way. But faith lives on no matter what and with the unfaltering guidance my family provides, I am ascertained that I will pull through. Miserably and devastated or not, I will. This is my fillial promise and obligation that I will fulfill.

Have people ultimately abandoned all sense of consideration? I begin to wonder whether we truly live in such a heartless and merciless world? Every entity seems driven by ambition, lust, greed and self proclamation that they’re ambience seems infringed from life. Why go so far as ambience, the very souls that were once alongside them even for a moment’s brief end are casted out of heart and thought without a second glance. Have we become so robotized that compassion and affection have withered away in this entirely progressive era? In my perspective, shamefully, I will have to admit to this charge. We have outcast the very essence that sets us apart from our technological creations and by-products.
As everyone has become so entwined with their own lives, they seem to have forgotten the people that were once part of it. I have always believed that every person that we are acquainted with, even for a second’s worth, are worth recognizing and appreciating as they have contributed to our existence in some manner. So when this is so, how is it that friendships fade over time? How is it that simple conflicts breach the very bridge and connection that was once established? How is it that we are capable of forgetting the existence of those that were once held so close to our hearts? So if all these accusations and arraignments are true, is it possible that the hailed "power of love" shies in the eyes of time?
What a revelation this has been. I have no intention on discrediting the sovereignty of Love, but does it not seem a tad disturbing now? How many proclamations of undying love and complete devotion have been pledged over the years? I’m pretty sure the numbers are unfathomable. But inumerable as the numbers may be, how many have actually portrayed or depicted all that their love has claimed? I believe this number is ascertainable by counting our very fingers. Pledeges of eternal devotion lay buried within the depths of our very mind waiting to be recovered and unearthed.
"Love can move mountains". Those words rang in my ears so very often. Aside from the fact that I’m a Celine Dion fan (yes, the world comes to a halting end!), these words at one stage of my life (childhood) sounded rather comical to me. I mean, how can something that the eye can’t even see, move something so gargantuous? (Ignorence and naivety at that tender age is completely understandable) Then come the dawn of realization and as adolescence arrived, I was so captivated with the idealism of love and moreover I was very cognizant about it too. (A tendency that comes with the age unfortunately) As adolescence passed and comprehension surfaced from the depths of harrowing experiences, I was thrown into a state of imbroglio over this matter. There more I ponder over it, the more I’m left puzzled. How does the heart judge things differently from the mind? And why? What happens when these two vitalities clash? Simple. We arrive at a conclusion as this matter, the fading of "eternal love".
Sometimes I simply close my eyes and imagine a world that everything was so perfect. Flawless, untainted and unblemished in any way imaginable. A dream come true? Not really. Perfection comes with one deficiency. The lack of realization. We fail to realize that it isn’ t the power of love that can move mountains. It is our faith and our belief in such a power, making us embody and exemplify it. We give it life, we breathe soul but most of all we created it. Immortality doesn’t define love, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t live on for eternity, for it has lived a single day with pure and whole conviction making it as genuine as our very own existence.