Archive for the ‘experience’ Category

Day 8 without a shower:

Day 1 through 7 has gone by in a daze. The smell is creeping up. It’s not strong enough to overpower the senses of passing tourists, but it has come to purge the area around my nose.

Deodorants mask the monstrosity that has become my physical being. But like all man-made things, it also fades away. All that is left for me is to follow the daze, to try forgetting the smell born out of laze.

The forests beckon me – “Come to us, the further you go from ‘cleanliness’, the more you feel clean”. It’s a call from the wild – Be wild. The smell will go. It’s cold; it always goes. It just dissipates. Just like all our worries. One more pull of that magical flute, and all your worldly associations are dulled out. It has become your rite of passage to the land of the uncultivated, the free, the wanderers, the helpless life-addicts. And there’s always a welcoming party.

When the elements sparkle orange, it’s a party. When the lungs squirm in agony and exhilaration, it’s a party. When eyes glaze over and thoughts play havoc, it’s a party. When the haze of cloudy vapour masks every smell, its a party. A party of liberating proportions. One just for my senses. With me as host, guest and entertainment.

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Pace yourself

Posted: September 27, 2012 in experience
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We are part of a world that moves. Literally and figuratively. It moves at a pace. One set in society. One set for everyone to follow. We as humans are trained to follow this pace. It becomes our way of life. We live according to what is set for us. Our friends, family and everyone around, hasten us to catch up to that pace. Maybe a step taken, a thought germinated, a heartbeat felt – These are the things we alter to keep up.

But some people don’t stick to this pace. Some. Those are generally labelled freaks or weirdos or some choicer names. They move at a pace not in accordance to the ways of our society. And that’s how they stick out. Because sometimes when society ebbs, they flow. You see them bothered? Never. They just don’t care. They’ve set their own tempo in society. And they decide when to bring it up or down.

But that’s just it. What if we want to live our own pace? Not want to accustom ourselves to anything. What if we don’t want to catch up, but just run the other way? What if the only thing scaring us is the thought of moving at all?

Well, then just stop.

Why? Because we should. Because it feels right. Because maybe I would like to stop and smell the roses. And maybe the jasmines and the gardenias as well.

It is said that we are our own masters. We command our seas. I am trying to command mine to quiet down and not be choppy. I don’t want to move with the swiftness my world has set for me. It feels like I am bound in shackles. They wring around me to hurt and dig in. But to stop the pain, I just need to stop squirming.

I want to sit on a mountain, looking out over a valley. See a red sun glint off the purple sky, letting the sounds of nature wash over me. Allow the gliding river to remind me that the crashing sounds of the world are flowing away. Appeal to the  wind to bring with the rustle of leaves, the music of silence. And then maybe when the clock in my head stops ticking, I’ll finally hear myself.

A musical trip

Posted: September 22, 2012 in experience, self discovery
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Channel energy through music? That’s something I would agree to, in theory. Sure it sounds about right to say that you are channelling your physical and metaphysical energy through the beats of music. But then theory remains just that, unless it is implemented.

Well I now stand proven that you can indeed channel your energy through music.

The past weekend was, for me, something surreal. It wasn’t a trip that I undertook, it was an experience. When your mind is floating away, you bring it back with the sounds of music. The mind comes back only when the body responds to that thump. The thump of your heart. It felt illusory to explore my outlet of emotions; those that were now controlled by music. I was moving to the beats, my thoughts juggling my mind and my body.

I was stripped of all choice. The music decided my emotions, my movement, my thoughts. I was not in control. I had released everything and was open to being led. I felt as if my mind and my body were moving against each other, but as one unit. They were on different wavelengths. They were responding to different frequencies of sound. The sounds had them. My subconscious was becoming my reality. Having no control let me tap into a subliminal reality. The music brought it out. I guess I wanted it to be my reality.

My thoughts became my force. I found an outlet for that energy. That outlet led me to frontiers undiscovered in my mind. The discovery was an experience of infinite dimensions. It destroyed the barriers that stopped me. To destroy what was, I entered what will be. I entered through my gateway. The gateway of music.

A kiss remembered, a tear shed and a bottle upturned.

It’s the classic making of what follows every failed relationship. What people forget to mention, are the friends they find after. Because it’s not a unique story. It’s the story of a million lost souls. Almost everyone has loved and lost, and in turn can relate to this. And they had also found others who could relate to this. It’s a circle which is finally not vicious. It’s a circle to finish that bottle in hopes of forgetting that kiss.

It’s funny how people come together over bad relationships. Or good relationships that are losing the sheen of “perfection”. People generally come together because they have something in common. It’s a universal fact. Some of my friends I can call close, only because of the time we spent baring our hearts to each other. You can’t do so, unless your heart has felt the spike of emotions. Oh, it’s a spike that ravages your mind and body. That’s the only way you can connect. And oddly I’m still connecting with new people, over old stories.

Those chapters of my life might be longed closed, but the story of my life still writes itself. Those times are still there for ready reckoning. They don’t hurt anymore; one grows accustomed. But at least they’re there to help others. A helping thought in times of bitterness and despair. My story, that for someone else might mean an additional tear not spent, another hour not wasted pondering, maybe one more word of hate not spoken, or just another thread of sanity not lost.

Who knows where my past might help someone’s present. Or maybe just help close the chapter of a past still being written. We all carry this with us. We steel ourselves to be harder and smarter for the future. We don’t always succeed, but at least we got friends to bring us up when we turn to butter. A friend to always help upturn that bottle.

Cut to Sunday.

Posted: June 24, 2012 in experience
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Scene opens on  a Monday morning. Work happens. Work happens over and over again. Scene closes on a tired person entering his house, and crashing asleep.

Repeat scene for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

Repeat start of scene for Friday, but add tinge of happiness for an upcoming weekend. Scene closes on the same. Only it closes about 6-7 hours later than usual, with a lot of alcohol and a lot of chaos.

Cut to Saturday morning, or maybe afternoon. Open to massive hangover. Cut to repercussions of massive hangover. Headaches brought on by stupid noises, body pains and general lethargy. But add to that, a long list of chores. Paying bills, depositing cheques, general shopping for the house, and other mundane activities you don’t have enough time to do in the week.

Fast forward to Saturday night (or at least try to fast forward). The scene opens to bright lights, colourful people, laughing and dancing, musical merriment, and a lot more alcohol to drown out the week gone by and the day of chores. Scene closes on a black out.

Cut to Sunday afternoon. There is no Sunday morning. Waking up. Finally waking up. Letting the activities of the previous night, wash over you. Just lying there in bed, looking out the window. Just basking in the glory of having absolutely nothing to do. That is what Sundays are for. Just doing nothing. Do nothing, but with yourself. Walk the streets, listen to random music, sit at a bar in the afternoon. Alone. Completely alone, except for your thoughts. I like the sitting at the bar part. Sit at that bar with your words pouring out. Stare out, into the rain. Feel the rain washing away the filth of the city, of the week, of the previous binging nights. Become clean of everything. All commitments, all headaches and all worries. Listen to the music that plays, feel the music, get lost in that music and learn to love it. Learn to love again. Learn to think of something bigger than yourself. Learn to find yourself again. The person who got lost somewhere down the road, into the abyss of always doing something. Find that person, and forget what the next day brings. Cut to peace.

And repeat all over again.

Inspire how?

Posted: April 19, 2012 in experience, inspiration

Where does inspiration come from? Well there’s no special place. It doesn’t come from the land of wonderment. It’s a simple aspect of life. Yes, just an aspect of life. It comes from life. It comes from our life experiences. What we experience we write, draw, say or basically express in our own way. What can you draw from if not experiences? Figments of your imagination? Well what does your imagination draw from? Experiences. Yours or someone else’s. But if it isn’t yours, how can it really feel true and just? It will remain a figment of forced imagination. And it will be evident. It will be an expression hanging in the air. To feel the words, you really need to feel them. But what if you don’t know the different facets of an experience? What if it remains just as empty thoughts?

We need to experience what life has to offer. Experience and grow. And boy does it make you grow. It makes you develop as a person, as a companion and as a human being. The growth of your world unleashes the hounds of imagination within your mind. Let them roam, free and wild. They will hunt for new thoughts. But only because you set them free. Free with your travels, your interactions, your search of work, your search of a high truth, your search of yourself..