0505 In The Ocean
People around every corner of life interrupt. They finish a sentence for you instantaneously every time you fail to complete one. The world is harsh, and some souls even harsher and coarser; it is the feeling of peace inside that helps one navigate in life, and cope up with the corrupt. If you don't put a nice end to your bite from this world - when you take the liberty to speak - someone else will. The world needs genuine listeners, and for most of us, hopefully, our dear ones are the best examples.
Every once in a while in urban life one loses his or her grip over the essence of peace. Peace, a calm ocean that every living creature carries within, can be lost and found from time to time. If the material world is to be blamed, the more you invest in a job or a goal, the more frequent the loss becomes. But the things - they can be mere events in life or memories - that touch your soul the deepest hold the never corroding key to the peace within.
I woke up early today, like most days, and was reminded of the times I'd wake up after hours of bodily recharging to find Papa still self-talking, often even loudly. Sometimes I'd tend to not hear it and sometimes it'd just be an imagination. Other times I'd feel helpless. For all other things that Schizophrenia is, one characteristic is the violent nature of the round-the-clock restlessness it brings to the host.
I felt full of peace and contentment. That was my long lost key. There will always be people who'd look at you and feel more successful and accomplished. They'd even flaunt their assets, or interrupt when you're experiencing life, or sharing your experience of it by speaking, or not speaking. There may often be a version of you that loses its grip over such situations: you can choose to speak louder and finish the sentence if someone interrupts, or grant them the right to be, spending from the ocean you have gathered drop by drop and click by click.
People can call you dependant today out of fashion, or choose not to spell it out for you out of artificial kindness, but may well be unaware of the possibility that trends expire. It is the soul, one's personal and exclusive access to the ocean, that lives beyond such differences.
The choppy waters settled once again.
Every once in a while in urban life one loses his or her grip over the essence of peace. Peace, a calm ocean that every living creature carries within, can be lost and found from time to time. If the material world is to be blamed, the more you invest in a job or a goal, the more frequent the loss becomes. But the things - they can be mere events in life or memories - that touch your soul the deepest hold the never corroding key to the peace within.
I woke up early today, like most days, and was reminded of the times I'd wake up after hours of bodily recharging to find Papa still self-talking, often even loudly. Sometimes I'd tend to not hear it and sometimes it'd just be an imagination. Other times I'd feel helpless. For all other things that Schizophrenia is, one characteristic is the violent nature of the round-the-clock restlessness it brings to the host.
I felt full of peace and contentment. That was my long lost key. There will always be people who'd look at you and feel more successful and accomplished. They'd even flaunt their assets, or interrupt when you're experiencing life, or sharing your experience of it by speaking, or not speaking. There may often be a version of you that loses its grip over such situations: you can choose to speak louder and finish the sentence if someone interrupts, or grant them the right to be, spending from the ocean you have gathered drop by drop and click by click.
People can call you dependant today out of fashion, or choose not to spell it out for you out of artificial kindness, but may well be unaware of the possibility that trends expire. It is the soul, one's personal and exclusive access to the ocean, that lives beyond such differences.
The choppy waters settled once again.
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