Fetters

Fetters – They are everywhere. Family obligations, pressures to exceed. Showing needless enthusiam where none whatsoever is required. I like this strange conundrum that I find myself in. This pressing need to achieve something that is not really valued on the day of achievement. You really wonder where your energies and youth were laid to waste. I like this state because it pushes me to the other side. To explore what’s the finest within us. It Waits, bides time, seething within till sadly our justifications and excuses somehow put out the flame.

The vastness of human life and the potentialities are barely exposed and harnessed as we get sucked into this endless cycle of human needs and the need for conformity. Jobs, Marriage, Relationships, Friendships, Groups, Elitism, and a whole load of crap.

We just listen to the mediocrity that is dished on a regular basis by minds that can’t think big or straight. Frightened people who could never dream of taking a risk fraught with humiliation, failure and mockery. That’s all we (so what’s the big deal)lose sometimes as society launches into the most ancient of rituals to demean what we are and what we mean to ourselves. Helping others is good, but how many times have we helped ourselves?

Speaking for myself, I just realised the damage self critique or self pity causes. Having doubts is good, but to the extent of killing the best within us with it is a crime.This has been written and spoken before. But how many times do we realise this as we just speak against our sacred selves, never defending when attacked for things we did were right? Wallowing in self pity or dumbing down the self till nothing remains but the tremendous urge to just melt away in the faceless masses that stand around us, ever ready to absorb us.

Get defeated first, I say. Fall down. Get licked by the challenges outside of yourself. You will discover what lies within and what you are capable of. Fail by Jove. Fail as much as you can. But a word of caution: Fail by doing something, anything; not by lying on the couch waiting for it to come knocking on your door.

Break your fetters. Chains you managed to somehow put around yourself. Chains forged so solid they sometimes cripple some souls for as long as their mortal lives and the lives they touch.

Regards,

CZ

Fantastico!

Discover, breathe, bend, move the bed. Walk the mile. Extra or otherwise. Walk backwards, front. In a while everything becomes saner as the insanity hurtles. 200 miles per hour, 320 kmph. Whatever metric. U.S Gallons or U.K, its the oil that will do us in. Dinosaurs fossilised, ancient forests in black liquid. Callous, careless its made us. 6 billion and counting, one by one the mistakes add on. Too much of something where too less is required.

The lakes, the ponds poisoned. What was once a right, the untouched beach needs to be bought for a few days or hours. Our freedom pissed away and everything worthwhile bought with the Gandhis or the Washington’s. Twitter or none. The servers keep working, backing worthless data and worthless thoughts. Expression died the day I lost my love. What remains is the ramble and what was once written on the walls of my brain. Living life, critiqued by relatives and people who never really contributed. Stay on top, kick everyone’s ass and lick the popiscle while its still there. Melt, let the icebergs and death to the polar bears. What doesn’t evolve needs to die or put on the walls of an oil tycoon.

Wealth has a curious way of ending in households that don’t need them. Households that procreate the worthless progeny of the likes. Paris’ that don’t deserve to breathe, live or love. What kids will they bring forth, what were they anyways?

Cities expand, quality of life improves they say. For what was once a 10 min walk, now needs a Metro rail. 60,ooo trees cut, each was 50 years old.Do the Math and 3 million years gone! Development and progress, such heavy words. Of late everyone’s forgotten – population, every life, a new mistake. Herding masses to nameless graves. In the meanwhile everyone eats, everyone breathes.

Snatching seats and breathes collectively.The ramble goes on. The mediocre become the elitist, the poor stay poor. Rich see ruin and middle class become the neo rich. Kapoors become coopers and some actually still worship ol hitler. The iron cross on their cheap cotton shirts, doesn’t matter if the maker got the swatika all wrong.

Fantastico. Maybe this is the new line, the new work. Feel unleashed today. It will stay. The ramble.

Regards,

CZ

And the memory remains

The strongest element in the human body is the element of memory. Soft matter, your mind. It sees and registers everything. Some people claim to forget. They think they have done a good job. but it ticks. It keeps ticking. It remembers all. The memory. It comes back  -  in all forms, shapes, and sizes. Manifestations. Sometimes as apparitions in the dark when an imaginative mind can possibly creates a ghost image, sometimes in dreams, any and everywhere.It always ticks beneath the surface.

What does it demand? Some answers I feel. What does it want? To come to terms. It can come to terms, if you let it. Its better if the art of letting go is learned early on and fast. But the memory remains. Memories remain. Everything comes to a naught, when we decide to run away from those questions.

We need to keep asking ourselves questions that keep us riveted to sanity. Questions where we attempt to delve into our reasoning. Our reasons. We need to be ruthless to an extent that even if we are at fault, we need to admit to ourselves and then find peace. It isn’t easy. As we keep going in life, it becomes all the more difficult to admit your wrong doings. Our egos slowly condition us to blame everything and everyone except us.

Salvation lies within. Like everything else.

Live, Love, Let go.

Regards,

Cerebral Z

Ain’t no sunshine

How does it actually work? This mechanism of life? What levers to pull, how to go about it? What else is required, what magic words open the doors and what actions forever close some. “Don’t burn your bridges, you might have to cross them again” counsels wisdom. Cautionary statement, puts in fear but for people who like wind in their hair, it usually doesn’t matter how it might work out in the long run.

Life was a lot easier at one time. Or so they say. Ain’t no sunshine when he or she leaves the door open never to return again. The typewriter or keyboard keys lie with dust gathering and finally when it comes to exercising expression, normally one hits a wall. Ramble on, rumble on.

Feels good to be out in the open with the grass leaves swaying and doing the bidding of the high winds above. How else can one describe the almighty above or below when almighty chooses to show us how minute our lives can be. Man was born free, but dies in bondage. All on choices that one wishes to take, decisions that sometimes uplifts or burdens us till the hour of the final reckoning comes knocking to our doors.

Father time with his scythe, working the fields of souls that are close to departure. Sometimes before time, sometimes overdue. Wonder why for some people life works out, but then they choose not to reveal the struggle and the drops of sweat, and tears that washed the ground when the put their shoulder to the wheel of life, pushing it, grunting.

Life – myriad, hued, beautiful, tragic, and yet infinitely impossible to describe. Time will tell how everyone fares. Look within. Look yonder.

Regards,

CZ

It still works

It bleeds. Ever so, ever more. But it works. It still pumps. The tiny drum that beats inches away from the rib cage. Sometimes wonder how many more beats are left. How many more will be stolen by a special someone who cares to forgive and forget when it beats too hard.

In company or when alone. Sometimes wonder if it’s the heart that one needs to live or the cerebral matter of 5 ounces that directs the limbs and much more.

It beats ever more, ever so. Wonder where the good times went, then I know they are all there deep in the bosom. I stole a few beats too, from someone. Does the someone care or realize or look back?

The tiny drum, forlorn and alone still beats. In sleep and when wide awake. Fast in dreams and faster when memories come flooding back. Strange still is how the cerebral matter and the drum work in tandem to put me – the individual in question, in dilemma.

Sometimes wonder why and how I am sandwiched. But I know I will transcend this as well. The drum – the heart needs to be healed. The heart. The Cerebral matter, the brain, the mind and what’s in it needs to forget.

Eyes convey a lot. Sometimes like little puddles that show no emotion. Sometimes like lakes that contain a world inside. Ask within, the answers lie there. For whoever cared to listen, and for those who know. For those that lost, lose and yearn.

Man kills the very thing he loves said Neitzsche. True. How very true.

Regards,

Cerebral Zephyr