Undeniable truth

You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and 

put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them

with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you

do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.

- Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth

When he opened his eyes he had to immediately shield them from a blinding light that overwhelmed him. Then he heard an annoyingly familiar voice, echo straight at him. "Wakey wakey, Time to get up!" 

He couldn't resist but slothfully catch hold of a pillow somewhere around and cover his face with it.. But in vain.

The moments that followed were a mix of frustrated grunts and moans and fun-poking grins. How he hated to be back home again, he thought to himself.

Patrick, with his heavy eyes had a quick glance at his family, who were gleaming at him, just to make sure he was really there. Comprising of his parents, his father, was always too busy with his work-life that they hardly shared two words a day. His mother- clearly over protective and naggingly loving, didn't make life too easy for him either. Both extremes of the spectrum. To add to that pie was his annoying little sister ("Wakey wakey") who had a bizarre sense of humor. That's at least what he would pledge for. Over-all, he never, even at a fraction of a blink think that he would want to cherish all of this, once he was away from home, for two years. 

The truth is, he really missed his family. These were the same imperfect, yet people in his life he couldn't do without. They missed him too, he could clearly see. 

That, my dear friends, he couldn't deny, as he drowsily smiled back at them.


".. because you do not just live in a world, but a world lives in you."

Little by little

As I was waiting for the bus to arrive; I heard an intense out-pour of nasty words between two men, being blurted out like it was part of a responsorial slogan recital.
It reminded me of the times when I was heated up on small little matters and I lashed out at innocent people; times when I treated certain people very coldly; times when I envied another and tried gaining a top hand; times of hard-heartedness and revenge. We all have some measure of these tendencies I'm sure (give me some company here).
I then questioned myself. Why am I so selfish and unhappy?

I decided to see for myself; explore deep inside, to see why..

Not too surprising, what I saw in front of me was a really thick wall, made of selfishness and a hardened layer of arrogance all around it, much like how patched-cement over time solidifies the bricked wall. 

I tried to segregate in my mind the piles of garbage that had been dumped into this familiar place, all these years. 

What struck me most, was the clarity of particular memories of encounters and experiences I had along the way, since childhood. Like the times when I was scolded for no fault of mine, or the times when I was hurt and embarrassed, or even when I was betrayed and rejected. The times when life turned cold and dark, leaving me hopeless and alone; causing this fortress of pain and wounds, to grow slowly, layer by layer. 
Now it seemed so profusely enormous and stenchful that I had to close my nose and scratch my head, to devise some kind of a 'format-the-system' plan.

From the corner of my eye, as I came back to the real world and to what was happening around me; a homeless old stranger, sitting a few meters away was looking toward me. He warmly smiled at me saying, 'Have a good day sir'. That brought a certain sense of joy into me; like a ray of light entering into a dark room.

I then realized one irrefutable truth; the little things: a friendly smile, a complementing word, a self giving gesture, a warm hug, are what finally matter the most. Things like these, either make us or break us. I knew then, what I was thirsting for; to cherish these little happy things, than to store in all the hurt other people threw at me.

Something inside began to glow, as I breathed in the moment and breathed out the heaviness inside.

Little drops of water make a puddle.
Little drops of water make a pond.
Little drops of water make an ocean..

..What little things are you storing? 

Bitter sweet experience

Clearing my head seemed quite impossible to do, as I tried making my way through the mixed traffic of pedestrians and vehicles on that lane that day. I almost couldn't tell the difference.

If you could prepare a dish of this place it would contain a paste of restlessness and impatience, a cup full of self-righteous arrogance. sprinkled with plenty, if not, excess of noise pollution and filth throughout. This indeed would be a perfect recipe for chaos.

Walking and compressing the emotions within me, I tried to ignore the overwhelming honks bleating like sirens on 'rigorous test mode'. I wondered if anybody was actually sane enough to stop and realise what was happening as I feared I was getting numb like the rest. At least before that happened I could pass on the baton of 'sense' to someone. Even though it seemed like a losing battle.

At that point, early in the evening, I could see goats being flocked around, school kids in uniform chatting and walking back home together, hawkers and vendors bored as ever, people seemed in a hurry to return home or probably to work, with those long serious faces, on either side a stretch of tiny little shops and what seemed to me like 'slum houses' barely a meter in length and definitely over populated.

I shifted gear hoping to get back to my hostel quicker like a speed racer with the slimmest chances of overtaking. 

Just then, my eye caught hold of something. Something that squeezed my heart.

A little boy I think around 6, with just an old torn tshirt on which was too small for him, running around happily. I halted there in the middle of the road, and I heard someone grumble, 'arre yaar'. I tried to catch hold of what it was that made this innocent little chap who was barely clothed and nourished, so thrilled. I looked closer, the chaos around me immediately fading, and smiled to myself while I watched him run off straight into his fathers arms, who seemed to be partially paralysed. Then the boy bursting with gladness willingly gave his dad the prize he had in his hand. I felt a lump in my throat as I saw the ten rupee note.. and then realised why..

That little bundle of innocence had achieved his salary. 

A tear rolled down my cheek as I got a glimpse of what reality was to him..

This bitter sweet reality.

Am I Informed and Inspired enough right now?

Inspiration leads to nothingness.. said somebody who had been stuck in a huge pool of warm muck all his life, and then BANG! The question.. Where am I? What the muck (yes muck) is happening? And soon enough what follows is Inspiration Information just like John Mayer said it.

A few days ago I was sitting down on one of the many unoccupied stone-made benches in the seemingly quieter area of the city, facing the sea. The sun at that point was sinking slowly into the ocean like how that slab of chocolate melts into your tongue when you still want it to hold on longer. Mr. jolly cool breeze was delighted to have me there, I could tell. So that compensated for my retreating friend. I had a date nonetheless, so I couldn't complain anyway. Sitting intimately with one arm around her, was my root of Inspiration! How I recollect those days when we were getting to know each other, and it wasn't any different than that very moment.
If you've heard of that glorious 'concerto for 2 violins' by Bach, yes that was precisely the setting then! Bliss is this very combination - sunset sea - cool breeze blowing - beloved beside - music by Bach.

It was then all perfectly staged for me, except for the Bach part.
The moments that followed were grace-filled as I delicately 'plucked the strings' of my beloved guitar with the bare tips of my fingers and the resounding combination of these harmonious tones together sang a tune in my heart. Information had started to take its shape out into Inspiration. What I learned all those years in my music classes- be it theoretical or practical, observing other friends (and maybe a few enemies) play or just sitting glued for hours in front of my screen watching YouTube videos such as 'how to play Why Georgia by John Mayer'  now I know started to bear fruit.

While it takes an awful lot of time and sweat to collect all of that knowledge we eagerly desire, it takes even more of it to actually sit down and realize what to do with all of that 'raw timber' loaded in that truck of yours. Where do I go to release and transfer this Information? Is all I have good for me? Or is it too less? Should I look for more till I cant take in more?

Well only you can answer that question. What do you want to DO with that stack load of lumber?
Follow your heart, as they say, which will not only lead you to higher plains, but believe me, will guide you to yourself.. unique, special and one of a kind that you are. Let the Information convert to Inspiration. Look into your heart. Find a way. Do it now! :)