Thursday, December 13, 2007


One of the reasons why we might be driven to express is to be understood. And the thing with communication between two people is the existence of the second person. Where my experience with the two-or-more person communication has mostly been stifling, exasperating, frustrating...or more.

Stifling, because the presence of another person curbs expression, in thought, in speech, or both.

Exasperating, because unless the other person does not care about you, there will be give-away moments. Facial expressions that convey approval, disapproval, I have an opinion but I'll let it pass this once, etc.

Frustrating, because no matter how good their intentions are, they will be given to a few interceptions - sometimes breaking the flow, or interjecting it with their world view.

So it nearly never serves the purpose. Of being heard, felt, experienced, and understood, as is.

That's why, some of us resort to writing reflections. Rather than aligning our thoughts and feelings and their expression to whose listening, we throw out the expressions to whoever's listening, or not.

For some other things that we want to write about, we have spaces floating on the internet, with non-identifiable no one can trace them back to us. I do that, for some of the things I need to express. Not to say that every reflection has a shady parallel version to it. But yes, some of the things I feel and think of, I wouldn't be very comfortable (or confident) claiming. Not to people I know.

There is yet another level. The thoughts and feelings that you don't acknowledge even (or most?) to yourself. They need no space.

It is with this belief, despite the reverence I feel for the written word, that I hold biographies and autobiographies in some disregard. Just the concept, I believe, is in violation of the basic tenets of writing, honesty and integrity. I think anybody who claims otherwise is either in denial, or is being false. To my mind, when someone writes an autobiography, they either have a desperate need to deny who they really are. Or they want to acknowledge and claim as their own, what rightfully is not theirs to claim. I believe that it is not possible to take away the "aspiration" of you from this process. This would be an inherent inflection in a narrative of yourself.

I believe, that in this world, there does not exist an auto -biography or -biographer, that would have been not infiltrated by this aspiration. When aspiration treads on reality, expressions blur. This backed with the compulsion (helplessness?) to see things the way you wish they were rather than what they are. Add to that that we all have an image of who we are, who we ought to be, or have been. And what you have is a very heady cocktail.

When you go down one step (further), you have a biography; an autobiography that has been processed and channelized through a foreign body. Does not even merit an evaluation, I believe.

Getting back to the part about expressing with the objective of being understood.
Two things come to mind.

Are you looking at being interpreted or intercepted? Are your thoughts getting out through the readers untouched and undiluted. Or are they travelling through the recesses of the readers' mind and life experiences and assuming a different shape and form.

And by someone or no one in particular? You're probably doing this to feel connected and understood. By the world, or by someone out there in the world. Reflections afford you an intense opportunity to express and create a connection to the world...of the present, as also of the future. One hundred years from now, if someone were to read your words, you would live again, fleetingly or perhaps forever. I know some of the words that I've read will not go with me to the grave, they will leave me at my grave and move on, carried by the soul into my remaining life times.

So perhaps you live on, not because or whether you have been interpreted for what you are, but more for how profoundly you have affected or stirred someone.

So then it's still not about you, is it.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Knowing and Thinking (you know)

What makes for a profound, deep, and defining moment of truth for you, somebody's already beaten you to it. Someone out there would have already figured it out and made peace with it. And you're still grappling with the elementary. So perhaps elementary is relative to experience.

I remember when I was young, I couldn't wait to grow up. To me growing up was about having all the answers. Grown ups look so confident, like they knew it all.
But you need only to grow up yourself to be able to see the chinks.

-a- you don't still know everything there is to know
-b- some of the things you thought you had figured out, get tossed back in your face
and -c- the feeling starts to sneak up that the ones you think are still with you, are waiting to be tossed back, at the right time

Does living a few decades more give you an edge? An added insight into life? Or does it serve to twist your worldview. Maybe what you started with is really all there is to it. Maybe all of your experiences serve to take you away from the basics - the real thing. But why would someone design it backwards. Isn't the whole point to be going forwards, and not backwards?

Are your view points more valid because you have some experiences as a frame of reference for them. Or more warped?

Like tough times. People say that when you've seen tough times, you know what it takes the next time around. But I don't know. At least not for me. Since I have lived a certain kind of hardship, the possibility of having to re-live it makes me crumble. I'm fatigued and worn out right at the start, where you would expect to be best poised for whatever happens.

Me, I'm good at handling things the first time round. When I don't know what's hit me. And I have no frame of reference for the experience. But when you know, how do you do it all over again?

But as with everything in life, it's not that things don't make sense because some things are not meant to. I believe everything is meant to make sense.

The point is, do you get it?

Sometimes you know it in words, but for lack of a corresponding experience, you don't get it. Some of the other times, you have had the experience, but you haven't found the right set of words, to put it all together, therefore you don't get it.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Tid-ing over, letting go, and moving on

Either I didn't "really really" want what I wanted, or the universe was busy, conspiring over something else, someone else wanted.

And there's no recourse. It's not like you want something, you don't get it, you can go somewhere and ask why, how, and what next.

And since I'm left to work this out for myself, I think the options would be -a- to lick my wounds and resurface, or -b- want something else and focus all I got.

-a- works for me for now. I don't think I want to focus on anything in specific for a while. I'll take a break.

Because before I return, I want to be able to get just the "right" amount of want, for the next round. I think the problem with focusing too hard is that the harder you want it, the more of you you need to apply. The more of you you apply, the more the stakes. And the more the stakes, the more irrepairably you ***** up.
But if you didn't want it that much in the first place, you hardly deserve to get it. There are far more deserving people out there, waiting, hanging on to their wants for dear life.
And if you allowed yourself to want it really really bad, aah! it is so going to crush you, when it doesn't happen. It'll make you wish you'd eased out on the intensity a bit.

I do that. No matter how much I want something, I try and play it cool. It's this liitle game I play. God knows who I manage to fool. But it makes feel like I'm on top of it. Gives me a sense of control.
Getting back to the universe not conspiring for me.

When I'm disappointed, I slow down. I lie low. I go to a very quiet place in the head. I don't let meaningless activity keep me busy. I soak in what I feel. I spend time with it. If I don't, I feel cluttered.

You're probably not acutely aware of it at all times, but you're on your own. Life goes on, keeping up the pace and the rhythm, no matter what. Unconcerned, uncaring, unaffected. Label it what you like. You could have dropped off the edge, nobody's stopping for you. So while you do slow down, you might want to get back, fast. You stop or drop the pace for too long, who knows if you'll be able to catch up.

And no matter how many deadlines you have, how many gizmos you own, and how many friends rally around you, your disappointment still gets to you. There is something so incredulously unbelievable and surreal about a disappointment. It's like its not really happening to you.

It tugs at your heart. Every once in a while, in all the clutter and confusion and the noise. It tugs at you. And it makes you stop in your tracks. Thats the power of silence. It blots out all noise.

That's the place I like to be in when I'm disappointed.

I believe that if you give yourself time, space, and the luxury of looking back, for most of us, there's a lot that we've left behind. All in the process of tid-ing over, letting go, and moving on.

So I'm wondering - if that is what I'm going to have for my life's work?

That I tid-ed over. I let go. And that I moved on.

And then if I'm going to be moving on from everything, what am I going to be moving on to, eventually? Does that sound strange to anybody else?

Seems to me that some of us (here I'm going to include others like me), are trying hard to get past events, unscathed, as least affected as possible. That assumes a fair amount of importance in all life events.

Not to say that to experience life to its fullest potential you need to pine for things
That you need to be vibrating at just 2 levels - devastated with grief and want, or elated with joy
That you have to let go of yourself completely with a complete disregard to saneness of mind and other trivia
That everything in life that is worth having, should be fought for
That well-fought is well-lived
Not even to say that you need to invent demons and fight imaginary battles to feel purposeful and fulfilled
But to give up on something you want so there are no battles to fight?
To steel yourself against feeling, wanting, needing, reaching out, striving and laboring to get what you want...
To focus on getting over more than going for what you want, I'm not so sure.
If we're all living marginal lives and getting by, who then gets to live life kingsize?

What is it - adaptation, self-preservation, evolution, sanity, happiness, fear?
When you look back at yourself, how much of you do you still recognize. You ricochet through life, preserving your sanity and happiness, and whats left is a somewhat guarded, protected, and perhaps impaired (dysfunctional?) version of what you set out with. I'm sure we all started out good. Along the way, something happened. And it all perhaps started with wanting to protect ourselves from getting hurt.
And I believe some of it's also got to do with modern living. Life no longer affords you the luxury to feel everything you experience, like it used to, once upon a time. Once upon a time there was far more time and far less opportunities for distractions. So if something were to happen to you, you would live every bit of it. You couldn't escape it. Now, things are different. Now you have to make a concerted effort to feel. Life is busy. Even if you try and hold on to some thing, there are things in the queue, jostling for space and your attention. So you constantly need to be making space for the next thing. Things are happening practically back-to-back.
Sounds like a lot of muddle.
Me, I like to guard my past, obstinately. Does my life become any less important if I let go of the past, if I do not, to my mind, make it mean something? Perhaps.

Letting go is perhaps the hardest. I'm sure not just for me. You lose some to life and then you lose some to death. And it doesn't matter who you've lost out to. Letting go is hard. I remember when Dad passed away, after the initial disbelief and sense of loss, I was far more traumatized with the possibility that one day, I would have completely forgotten him. He would cease to have relevance for me. His memory would become distant, non-real, non-urgent. He would no longer be the most important person in my life. Is this what his life's work is going to add up to? What a waste.

Was I caught up in mortality or was I grieving for him?

Letting go feels like betrayal. Does holding on make you loyal. In making someone else's life amount to something, are you hoping that someone else will return the favor one day. What does upholding your loyalty add up to?

I think the first defense we all take when we lose someone (I know I do), is that you don't want to forget. As if that's your pound of flesh. Fine, you've taken something away from me, but I'm never going to forget! So that's that.

But it happens. All the time. To the best of us.

I think if you give time, and you go with the flow rather than obstruct it, and you don't be obstinate about it, when a person's been gone long, I'm not sure if their life amounts to anything anymore. And I know that thinking this way about Dad atleast, makes me very sad. He's not so frequent in my memory any more. And this despite the fact that I fought so hard.

I remember early on, when a day used to go by without remembering him, I would take out his snaps and go over them. Just to relive what his presence was like. I fought hard, not to forget him. I'm not sure if forget is the right word. I haven't forgotten him. But yes, he's not a part of my life any more. Not in the way he was back then.

Its been 12 yrs now, and he was a part of my life for 23 yrs - every single day for those 23 yrs. He was constant, and he was larger than life. And yet, it took just a couple of years for other things to fill in the spaces. And this happened when he was, to me, the best-est and the most important person in my life.

I acknowledge my debt to him. I am indebted to him for the life I live, the values I have, the eccentricities I'm known for. Everything. I'm everything he made me. I'm completely his upbringing. All that's good and strong about me, that makes me proud of me, I trace back to him. And with every life incident, there is, to this day, something that he said then, that fits even now. That's how he was. Not someone you could put on the shelf.

Yet, there are no hollow spaces where he used to be. They've all filled up. He's gone, truly.

Getting back, does not lasting make the experience futile? It should not. But it makes me very uncomfortable.

If you were to peel the layers, maybe we have a compelling need to see meaning. Everything needs to have meant something, to have added up to something.

And till the time I saw death up close, I always imagined that life only terminates at logical points. At the end of a milestone, or when you've done your life's work, or as an outcome of something fairly significant. But in real life you could practically die mid-sentence. And that one sentence could have been the most profound thing you would have ever said.

That's the urgency of death. Life's urgencies pale in comparison.

What could be more important than life, you'd think. Where are we headed with death anyway? Whats the rush? With life, at least there's something that you still need to be doing. And not all of it can wait for another lifetime.

But no, that's not how the higher logic flows. Looks like life is practically in the way of something far more important and urgent.

Getting back to the part about wishing and conspiring. I love fairy tales. I love them and I believe in them. It's not quite working out that way right now for me, but eventually, it will.

In one of my recent conversations with God I said a prayer "If there is such a thing as magic, give me my moment of magic." Even if the moment is one, per person, per lifetime - I think I would like to have mine now.

I'm a believer.

The whole universe, will, one day, for sure, conspire to make possible for me what I really really want.

If not, the whole universe will conspire to lead me to, what I should want next.

I think when you're done with one want, life plants another seed in your heart, it makes the sun shine on it, and the rains water it for you. All so it adds up, to a big beautiful tree.

Life doesn't give up on you, ever, I think. But when you become sticky, it serves to discourage good things from happening to you. You constrict your heart, and life constricts the experiences and joys it had planned for you.

So while life might not really go the way you think it should go, it takes you somewhere you need to be, I believe.

This could be real. Or this could be delusional. Or this could just be my obstinacy, to see meaning and purpose, where none exists.

Baby this one's for you. You asked me if I was going to write about you. I just did. I don't know how much of you you're going to be able to see in this, but for all that it's worth, this one's for you.

It started with you in mind. But of course, there's no stopping a thought, once it starts. It assumes a life and a trajectory completely of its own making.

And while all of it is for you, you're welcome to take what you like. But if you were to allow me to pick a part for you, it would be the one about marginal versus kingsize.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

There's no heading to this one...

When you really really want something, the whole universe conspires to make it happen for you. I saw Om Shani Om recently. And I quote (only in essence).
Such a heart warming thought. I'm going to stay with this for a while, and believe in it.

And I'm going to be taking this thought out for a test drive.

Because there's something that I want right now. And I want to see if believing this works for me. If it doesn't, I'll be back. No, not with another heart-warming thought, but with my take on it.

I'm hoping I don't have to (return).
Yes, I know...I need to get a little imaginative with the headings.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

It's never going to end, is it...

If there's one thing that relationships teach you, and here I talk exclusively of failed relationships, because that's my primary area of interest and is that there is absolutely nothing to learn. If anything, I believe it calls for a lot of unlearning.

It's a rude awakening into reality, being shaken and mercilessly (mercifully?) stirred out of an episode of make-belief happiness and unadulterated joy. Me, when I'm in love, I can't shake the smile off off my face. And I think that's disgusting.

It's a bit like a hangover. It's intense, it's heightened, and it's an unnatural state of being. Of course the accompanying headaches, nausea, numbness in the head, heart and the limbs, strengthens the analogy. Everything else pales in comparison. You can almost feel the world go by in slow motion with people talking in a voice that echoes but says nothing in particular. The duration of course depends on which which end of the spectrum you are in terms of experience.

So I'm pretty much covered there.

In fact, now, if a relationship starts to last too long, I get withdrawal symptoms. I think by now evolution has kicked in. I have adapted to my environment, heightening all that is vital and essential to flourish in my reality. Every now and then I am stirred with the desire to be devastated with grief. Happiness is not a state of being I enjoy for very long. In fact, I think I feel guilty about it. The world is full of miseries. And it's only right that we all get to experience and live out our share. That way, we all consume what is rightfully ours and no one gets to suffer more than their own share. Of course here I assume that God did a fair division to begin with. But that should be a fair enough assumption. I mean, why would he want to be particularly mean to any one of us. If miseries are important for us to experience, I'm sure he's distributed them in all fairness.

I like the sound of this. I'm hearing me think this for the first time. It's a very comforting thought. If memory serves, each time I'm devastated the first thing that crosses my mind is "Why me?". So I can safely deduce, that despite being crushed and devastated, my primary line of thought is "why is this not happening to someone else".

So it's nice to know that all of us are suffering. [I'm sure there are more meaningful and real challenges to life. And for my sake I hope having resolved this, I am able to move on to things that are bigger and better. But for now, this seems to be my toughest spot, so I'll ramble on. But I want to make a note here - that in the face of all the worlds' problems, I feel a little guilty and self-centered going on and on about unsuccessful relationships. But that's the cross I bear.]

And the physical realm is very closely connected with the emotional. It's a cross-hatch. Coping mechanisms (have to) change according to age. In your 20s, there's nothing that a shot of tequila cannot help blur momentarily. But when you're 35, you're not so much watching out for your emotional well being as you are for your curves. And that makes it so much more challenging. Having to live through heartbreak with soups and salads is that much tougher. Being 35, a woman, single, and fairly vain - I heal and practically resurrect myself from diet food. No alcohol, chocolates, or creamy pastas for me.

But I like healthy. I really do. On a serious note, I think we should all eat healthy, no matter what the intensity of the trauma we are called upon to live through.

Another landmark I have achieved in my mid-30s is to see life minus the tints. In fact, shades have come where tints used to be. You are pretty much all you have thats dependable, bankable, and will forever be there by your side. You are never going to walk away from yourself in a huff. You can never decide not to see you again. You'll forever be there for you. So you learn to really see yourself in a new light and begin to treat yourself well. Like I no longer put anybody else over and above my own needs and desires. Sounds self-centered perhaps. But if you don't respect the most important thing in your life, what have you got? It also makes you appreciate friends and family that much more.

Getting back to what's there to learn...having said that there is absolutely nothing to learn from the relics of a failed relationship, each time I look long and hard. I know there is something that I can take from this - something that will make me a more mature, enlightened, confident, and successful person....but for the life of me I can't figure out what that something is. I live with the belief that there is something that I need to know, it's just that I need to be in a point in time and at a frequency where I'll be able to "get it". And my whole life is a state of preparation for being in that point in time and at the frequency where I am able to finally get it.

That's what keeps me hopeful. I just know that I'm going to step in to the light.

My belief is that each one of us has a tough spot (or several tough spots). It could be money, faith, happiness, fulfillment, peace of mind, a chronic or debilitating disease. I'm sure each one of us has at least one area of life that poses a challenge, or perhaps a disappointment or disillusionment. Someone around you will seem to be doing that thing effortlessly. But you struggle on. I guess that's what is meant when they say we all have our crosses to bear. And I believe the crosses are custom-made. And they are unique. I wouldn't be surprised if the crosses are practically as unique as one per individual. I think they break the mould with every cross.

I sometimes wonder what the point could be.

You're born, and at the end of it you die.
You sleep but then you wake up.
You fill up your eat and you drink. But it's not like you do it once and you're good to go forever. You have to do it every day, several times a day. But then you have to empty that out as well.
You earn, you spend.
You are free to choose but then you also have to live out the blueprint.

For every act, there's practically a counter-act.
So where really is the point.

I'm not sure. It just sounds like lots and lots of cloclwise and counter-clockwise circles.
And we're busy doing the circles. Day in day out. Where's the time for doing lines? We're all busy doing circles. We do a circle, then we undo the circle. And then we've got to move on to the next circle, quickly. Life's busy.

And I'm getting a liitle dizzy with this. So I'm going to end this right here and now.

Next time I write, I'll probably try and simplify this so it makes sense. Or I'll just move on to the next rambling.

Maybe it's too soon to start making sense.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Still searching...

I'm 35 and single. So you can imagine that I walk around with some amount of emotional baggage. I'm glad norms for check-in don't apply to emotional baggage. I don't think I'd be able to afford. Not to say that the burden is too much...I seem to quite happily be carting it around.

While once upon a time the idea of embarking upon a relationship (the best part according to me) used to make my heart skip a beat, lately it makes me gasp for breath at the very least, that is if it does not hit like a very bad episode of PMS. I have often felt that it's also a bit like vertigo. In fact I have a lot of analogies that can be used to depict this specific life situation. I'll go over them one by one over the course of this series. Yes, this is going to be a series, a very long series. And I'm glad that I have all the time in the world for myself. I am my only possession. I'm sure if you have followed the thought process till now, you will appreciate that I have already spent a fair amount of my life and time analyzing this. It's assumed a great deal of importance for me over the years....not the process of analysis alone (though I do admit that it can get addictive at times), but the hope that the analysis is going to lead me to doing it right. I want to get it right once. It means a lot to me. So much so that I fear that the person is now incidental to the process and to the hope of getting "it" right. [Must regroup on this...later].

Frankly, where I come from, we are staunch believers of rebirth, so I am not going to be spending sleepless nights over not getting it right in this lifetime. But, yes it would be nice if it could happen in this lifetime. Hopefully, I should be able to move on to more meaningful and pressing matters in subsequent lifetimes. But make no mistake, I'm in no tearing hurry. But yes, it would be nice to get it right, just once.

Getting back to why it's practically like vertigo. I believe (where my belief could be misplaced or outdated), vertigo is not so much the fear of height as it is about you wanting to cascade and spiral down to the bottom when looking down from considerable height. Yes, this analogy definiely rings a bell. I think as far as sustaining relationships go, I suffer from mild vertigo. [I'll regroup on this analogy in the subsequent write-up].

Well, even apart from relationships, I think I do suffer from vertigo. Nothing that I have ever got verified clinically. Just that I can't look down from heights. It makes me dizzy, queasy, and disoriented, and I practically have to fight the urge to just jump and get it over with, but only when the height is considerable. For smaller heights, for example ditches (yes, even ditches can get to me), I tend to get a liitle imbalanced while walking past them and sometimes feel a suction-like force dragging me into the ditch. It takes a lot of mental and physical effort to keep going straight. It feels like a fairly strong magnetic force doing an auto pilot on me, while I'm fighting to stay on manual.

Here I have completely digressed into talking about vertigo, the medical condition, and not the analogy .There is a reason. But I'll get back to it, a little later.

At the very outset I would like to say that I do not want to accuse myself of the string of failures. While it is true that whatever happens to us is in some way of our own making, I think it would be unfair to accuse myself at the outset. If it is the true cause, I'd like to get to it with an open mind. And not start with putting the blame squarely on my shoulders. Having cited the above belief, I am also a confirmed fatalist. I believe that the reason could completely be out of the realm of logical cause and effect. And I am equally open to that possibility. As of now, the reason eludes me. God knows I think about it, a lot...but nothing, yet.

But why do I think about it so much? I guess I'm hoping that if I know it, I might be able to do something about it. Juvenile? Maybe. Maybe not.

Sometimes knowing is not enough. There is a certain helplessness even in knowing.
Most of us have been there, right? But I'm still going to be hopeful. And I'm probably going to start with a lot of rambling, I know. But I have a feeling I'm going to walk into the light with this.

And this thought process is not entirely without a reason. Recently I met someone. So there's been a catalyst. But I would not like to put the burden of this totally on this person, because right at this moment, I have no idea what it's worth. At one level it makes me smile in my sleep (yes, the feeling is tremendous), at another level I can almost feel the pressure build. Just the possibility...of loving and losing, and being out there, puts the fear of god in me.

Normally i'm not someone who is actively looking for love anymore. I mean I'm looking for love, but not really looking for anybody to fall in love with. I don't make the effort, not just now, never have. Lets just say I'm not your typical go-getter. I'm a sit-wait"er". And believe me when I say that I am deeply obligated to life that it sends along beautiful opportunities and moments every once in a while. Rather frequently, considering the effort I put in. I repeat, only to convey how much it means to me, that I am very grateful that it graces me with its presence every now and then. But it would be nicer if it stuck around a little longer. Here I stopped myself from saying stuck around for a still feels like asking for a little more than is perhaps possible.

Not a thread of thought I appreciate for myself, but having been eluded for so long, it's perhaps reasonable to think it's a little out of bounds for me.

Will regroup on the vertigo (I think) in the next post...

My first post...

Quite an impulse decision this...putting myself out be read, understood, misunderstood, perceived, interpreted and mis-interpreted (I'm feeling compelled to cover it all in one list). Complete strangers are going to walk up to the blog, read my thoughts, know the kind of person I am, and form an opinion. And there will be people I know (provided I lead them to this space) who will take this opportunity to re-look and perhaps re-think of me as some one/thing other than what they had bargained for.

Do people get here by advert or do you have to herd them to this place and point in time...OMG! maybe everybody who mails me on my linked id will now get a msg that I have posted something, and there's going to be a cheesy scripted automated invitation to come see my post and comment on it. That way it would work out more than what I'd bargained for. Or maybe I could just relax.......I think I'm blowing this out of proportion (must ask someone....casually). But let me just begin with a (very) brief background on why I'm so paranoid. And why despite the paranoia, I'm still willing to be "out there".

For as long back as I can remember I have wanted to write - where this expression does not mean that I have always wanted to write, it just very literally means that since my memory does not serve me very well, and since I cannot and will not be able to remember what point in time I developed an inclination and then an obsession to write, literally and by default it really is as far back as I can remember. As I see myself, under normal circumstances, I am a socially controlled and inhibited person. I don't really go out there for anything. OMG! this is a profound moment. Come to think of it, I'm really not out there for anything, ever. I only respond to things that come and drop maybe millimeters away from me - and that too only if there is no place to escape or turn to.
[This can go somewhere...must regroup...later].

I guess on a one-on-one level I'm good with expressing myself, superficially and maybe just a little under the surface also, at times. When it comes to the really emotionally explicit and vulnerable stuff, I am quite the artful dodger. So while I would be very squirmish about saying all of this to a community (which ultimately might sum up to not even one individual, since I'm no Susanna Tamaro), I'm very explicit and explosively expressive in my thoughts to myself. And I talk (not just quietly, out loud - just as you would talk to someone, maybe across the planet). But now, suddenly, I am compelled to put it out there. I want my thoughts to be posted.

Do I want people to look at what I think, or do I want to express what I think - I'm not sure, yet. But yes, i want it out there, for sure. There is no middle path for me, never has been.
[This too can go somewhere...must regroup...later].

Not to say that this is not accompanied by absolute fear and humility. It's possible that I be (very soon - maybe even with the first post) faced with my creative fraility if someone were to point out that I'm perhaps not as good as I imagine myself to be. What if this is just something I have a burning passion for, but absolutely no talent for? This wouldn't be a first. What if I'm not even mediocre at it? What could the possible fallouts be? Maybe it'll make people falsely and passively appreciative. They've decided they're going to block you anyway, so what have they got to lose. God knows this would be well deserved. I've done that to some people I know (the false and passive part). Maybe it'll have them in splits. They'll lap me up and pass me on - I'd be famous overnight, in a Bheja Fry kinda way. What if they feel sorry for me - sympathy or empathy (which one's worse, by the way)?

It won't be the first time its happened to me you know....I mean the part about passion being so far removed from the talent. I remember (and here memory does serve me well) all through middle school, high school, college, and the early years of my career, I was passionate about singing. And for years friends and family all rallied around me, hearing me sing out songs for them. I also vaguely recall a request or two coming my way (could be my imagination here...not sure). Deeply involved in the singing process, only at the end of a particular rendition would I get to lock eyes with the audience. And without fail I would see a wide smile and possibly even a twinkle in the eye (I wouldn't bet my life on the twinkle though...I could be imagining this part...what do they say, you see not what is there but what you wish was there - actually I just thought this one up, I haven't heard anybody else say this - but now that I think about it, it seems like common wisdom). The smile would often be accompanied by "aah....why don't you take this up know, get trained professionally". My happiness knew no bounds - passionate, talented, appreciated and widely acclaimed (in my own little circle). What more could I ask for. I had found my calling in life.

All this till the time my little Pari came along. Pari is my niece. Yes, the name says it all. She angelic. That makes it very hard (at least for me) to ignore what she thinks, feels, and says. She was barely 4 at the time - still not able to stitch legible sentences together in a coherent manner. One day I sang to her. All through the song she kept looking at me - incredulously, big beautiful eyes (getting bigger by the moment) staring right through my eyes and into my soul. And then abruptly, in the middle of a particularly high note, she said "you're a bad singer". That's it - just like that - you're a bad singer, she says. I paused. Looked at her indulgently, gave her a squishy hug and let her go. She's so adorable. But then what does she know about fact she's pretty bad herself. Quite off-key even with her nursery rhymes (fine one to comment!!).

But this stayed with me for a while. It was getting harder and harder for me to shake this thought off. So, one day, I recorded myself.
And I played it back.
And then I stopped singing.

My point being that sometimes (if not most or all of the times), you are so blinded by your desires and wants, that you really can't see things for what they are. You see them as you want to see them, as you wish they were. And that's not always nice. I should know. Because this happens to me........a lot. I believe, for me, it comes with the territory. I am from the field of communication and creative design and strong visualization powers are a bare necessity for the job that I do. Sometimes, it all makes up for a very good joke, but some of the times it's sad, to come to the end...where you see things for what they really are.

Must regroup. Later...