The Dive

It is the dead fish,

that flow with the river.

Whatever is alive,

and exists in the present,

goes where it has to....

nevermind the river.

The dive

into the river of life

as a human

starts with understanding

what makes you one.

So remove yourself

from the flow,

if you can.

Let the wind

dry your skin.

Breathe.

Observe.

The river is mighty.

It is easy to drown

and easier to sit on a rock.

But the moment

you decide

to dive,

to take control

and responsibility of your actions,

to do what needs to be done....

is the moment the river

gives you the path

to the ocean.

And you realise

the mountain within

from which it all began.

T

Noise

Noise.

All the patterns emerge from noise.

Identifying a pattern, from the infinite that exist, as an experience makes that one different.

Till the last bit of the noise, the patterns exist. Within them lie the infinite possibilities of harmonising and adding complexities.

In the night sky full of stars, we identify constellations and other patterns of interest, rest is all beautiful noise.

Noise cannot be ignored, for everything is a part of it. It is the whole. Noise need not be understood completely, but the more it is, the more there is to cherish.

Like everything else, understanding of self, is part of it. Another pattern which has been identified.

Self, however, becomes the bottleneck. Limiting. Constricting. Strangling. It’s growth reduces comprehension, while increasing the illusion of understanding. To let it go is to jump back in the unfiltered, unstructured noise.

There every pattern is possible.

The concept of self, when used as a bridge, between understanding and creating patterns, instead of a bottleneck, allows it to be of good use. For it is I who is writing these sentences, but they have always been there, as a part of the noise.

Why cringe when a child cries in an airplane, wishing someone could toss it out? Would the mother have a similar reaction?

It is not noise. It is a pattern identified to be disliked.

In itself the wail is powerful. Penetrating each passengers ear, drilling into their thoughts.

Affecting every action there on.

It is unadulterated.

Babies get away easy.

The society is gravely dismissive towards unadulterated behaviour amongst adults.

Can someone scream loudly in the middle of a street and receive glances merely similar to the ones a child would and not worse?

It is a part of the noise. What is missed in experience of that scream due to obstruction by the patterns around, is the whole story. That scream is meant for the willing or unwilling audience around. Their action or lack of, upon hearing the scream, are of no concern. They would unfold the way they have to. In the end they would all be a part of the noise.

Silence.

It is everywhere.

Embedded within the noise, around the noise, between every two identifiable instances of noise, is silence.

Stretching to infinity.

Without it, the noise cannot be realised, only attempted to be understood.

T

Dusk

The leaves turn to gold and black.

The fire burns the sky to ashes.

Everything moves in harmony.

Chaos is in the mind.

Lose your mind.

It will find you.

Longer it takes to find you,

the longer you have,

to play the game without rules.

With the onset of darkness,

look for the light,

without your eyes.

In that light you will find a darkness

It will make you kneel with tears spilling over the edges. And unravel your faceless face.

Embrace this dark,

like a lover lost and

let the light radiate through the eyes.

The mind will find you, for it is afraid of the dark.

T