Cautionary Tales from My Life

 "You either become an inspiration or become a cautionary tale", someone said something like this. And it is not hard to establish that this statement is trivially true because after all the categories are exhaustive over the sample space. Here I was tempted to write mutually exclusive but that is hard to define and can be quite tricky. At times I pondered whether I can locate myself in either category. And it turned out to be difficult than I expected. However I recently arrived at a conclusion that my experiences suit more to be tales of caution. Even my stories of inspiration are cautionary.

Firstly what exactly is my motivation? Well nothing much, it is all personal which is a fancy way of saying that I am doing it for selfish reasons. I just want to write my heart out and just feel good. I would love if people read it but I really do not care about that. Well you read till here why not complete it right?

I have for long lived in a bubble, not because I wanted to but rather because I was not sure how not to make a bubble around me. This bubble metaphor is so amazing. So one one hand a bubble can go bust whereas a bubble can take you to heights before it busts. I will here develop upon the second interpretation. One thing I have done in my life for long(regrettably) is to internalize my conflicts, pains and basically my life itself. I was a happening person but even I could not see it. I never understood that I could come out too, be a little more expressive. And mind the meaning of 'expressiveness' I intend. I was a public speaker. I was good in studies and was the class monitor too. This expressiveness is just different. What exactly is it? Well it is something for sure....

In one of the incident I did not listen to songs for 4 years because I had started believing that songs could kill my character. It was a crazy thought but it took me years to get rid off. Pretty stupid huh.. I was quite serious back then. Well owing to the incident I have grown up without a taste in music. I do not really regret my absence of taste in music(it simplifies the conversation) however such dangerous trend could have transformed into something sinister and hence a cautionary tale.

Internalizing pain made me feel bad about me. I feared happy moments. I would keep myself from happy moments because I believed that they were not meant for me. Even in moments of happiness I would always keep my ecstasy low because I mentally prepared myself for the sad times which would follow up. They followed up and pretty fast because I earnestly waited for them. It should have never happened that way. A tale of caution as to why no one should be doing it. It is like a quicksand you just go getting deeper in it. 

And it gets worse because you start missing opportunities because you do not have any confidence left. You are not able to convince yourself whether you are the right person for the opportunity. So all this process repeats resulting in frequent breakdowns. Remember the bubble metaphor. So let me now elaborate on it. Imagine your troubles as a bubble. It is taking you up against your will. But being a bubble it will go bust sometime, but who knows when and at what height. You will be inside that bubble for all that time. Your actions and choices inside that bubble determines how to survive the bust. If are develop the skills to fly then by the time bubble goes bust you are already at a height. You can start exploring the world from given height. Or if you are unprepared you fall straight to ground. Internalizing pain can seriously hamper your desires to fly. It is just a recent realization that we must see things in a larger picture. I wish i realized that earlier but yeah better late than never.

And then there are relations. I struggled to establish any real contact with people around me because again I felt so out of place everywhere. I struggled to believe that I could be good-enough to be good. This habit of me plagues me till date and I am having to put extra efforts to get rid of this.

Yes my life is that of caution. You are not supposed to be as miserable in life as I have been. I seriously wish I had realized this all earlier. Life is full of surprises. You never know what will happen at the blink of eye. You never understand why it is happening. The best you can do is to be prepared. Remember when inside the bubble catch all the feathers you can and stich your wings. Think of your action as small pieces in larger scheme of things. And remember that the bust would come sooner or later.

For more such experiences in a very detailed manner, wait for my autobiography releasing atleast after 40 years. And hooray...you made it till here..

ShorWis #49

Contradictions are everywhere, reality is about trade-offs.

Down the Dead River

It passed through the town, but possibly thought it to be some "bad land", it remembered its source but the prospect of destination has faded away, it had a desire to display its might but hardly anyone seemed to notice it, it was thought to be a relative of those artificial water passages made by some creatures on Earth, whose water was naturally black and the truth seemingly hidden beneath the dark surface.

The stranger walked down by river. It was difficult to describe him, not because he was strange but rather he was not worth noticing. He was lean, tall and carried a large bag over his shoulder. He did invite some attention from the children who were playing on the banks of the river when the football hit him. He turned and kicked the football back with a smile. The eldest among the players returned a smile as courtesy, but then a maximal utilization was to be of the recreation time.

And while its destination was ambiguous, it always had a feeling that the sea was nearby, for there was a smell of salt in the air. It always believed that one day the soil would give way for it to touch the sea. It had faint memories of mingling with the seawater but wasn't quite sure about it. It always tried to maintain an oblivion over the fact that it was gradually losing it strength.

The stranger too was carrying means to sanction him the strength to continue his trek in apparent monotony. But the stranger looked serious and sane enough to not just keep on walking aimlessly along the banks of a narrow stream. The cumulus clouds passed by, being carried by the strong winds. He looked up at the sky and then looked down. The reflection of clouds were not visible; partly because black surface did not reflect and partly because the green surface did not reflect.

The river seemed to notice the stranger, perceiving the perplexed look he carried. It was not unusual to see creature by your bank, however this man was different. He seemed to have an extraordinary curiosity towards the river or at least this was what its explanation of his expression.
He was noticed being distracted by the chirping of the bird and distant indistinct noises of traffic. Although his focus on walking always returned back instantaneously.
There was possibly more in common between these two entities than either of them could fathom.

And it remembers how it all began high up in the mountain. Multiple short streams unified together to make a giant stream which enters the plain. The faint memory also had the sketches of the great force with which it swiftly came down from the slopes. Its recent memory only recounts colliding a large concrete structure which could perhaps stop the force of the world's greatest river. It only has a fraction of force it used to have but the faint memory kept have successfully kept it disillusioned at most instants.
The width had reduced. "Possibly this man too is coming from the concrete wall."

The stranger sat down by the river. Not a very ideal place to sit for the water there was stinky and algae had invaded over it. This act made the river's belief of their connection a little more firm.

At its source, the river was enthusiastic, as it gets a chance to think that it would change the world and leave its mark on the soil. Little did it have any idea over how the events would unfold.
The journey has been marred with tragedies but the faint memory compensates for it. There is a time it had force and sediments didn't have the courage to stand its way, but once it was on the receiving side of the blow, all the agents came back to haunt, albeit they were not on the weaker side.

The stranger took out a piece of paper from his pocket. It was something which made him smile and be dejected simultaneously, possibly resulting from the faint memory of being good before everything messed up and also by the faint memory of the mess which made him feel good. It was difficult to judge, however the river could identify with him. Perhaps because it had more pity for himself than the stranger. He got up and started walking again.

The river was dying, the river was on the verge of death. At the destination the river simply merged into land. And throughout its course, the land was trying to invade the water body. The stranger became relatively sad as he progressed along the downstream. The faint memories seemed to be exposing more details. The impermanence of the river was always guaranteed but the in its life it experienced more turmoil than what was known at the source. The stranger was young, well before the first wave of serious melancholy must strike.

Although it was really ignorant by its nature, it somehow always had this faint instinct of the death. That it would cease to appear. That it may not complete its promised years. That it would suffer for the act of others. That it suffer by the choice of its turns. That it would succumb to its fate. And the marks it left on the soil would soon be replaced.

Despite all this the river has a hope that it could still be revived. Somehow the land will just move back, or a glacier meltdown up in the mountains would overpower that concrete wall, or the sea by itself would make its way to meet its old companion.

The stranger walked up to a point around 2 km from the municipal boundaries of the town. He seemed even more sorrowful.
The stranger at this point changed his mind and direction away from the stream. The two entities were flowing together; one of them have now forked away, like a new tributary.

From that point, the river could only hypothesize his fate.

Shorwis #48

A battle between "right" and "wrong" eventually remains only a battle.

Shorwis #47

Beauty paegents are an elite class conspiracy to equate beauty with vanity.

ShorWis #46

The truths are often ambiguous and the actions are mostly decisive. It's a "bad" understanding of this thin overlap where most of the world's problem lies.

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And the above statement possibly leads to a "self-referential problem".

Shorwis #45

The trade-off between 'natural' and 'unnatural' is civilisation.