I came across this quote by Alan Watts and I knew I just had to share the magic of it with you. He says-“The meaning of life is just to be alive.It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.”
Now, isn’t this sheer beauty, the way this man just put into words what we all struggle to say out loud sometimes? I sometimes wonder, why is it so that we need to hear things we want to say so desperately from someone else? Why do we believe the words coming out of an alien voice? I guess that’s just one of the things that make us who we are. Human.
So as for the reminder:Be alive. And that does not mean you should be Patrick and live under a rock and just survive the world(though Patrick has much more fun than most people manage to have in their lifetime). I mean, feel the world. And know how much our existence matter not to the world but to us. Be alive and do what makes you happy. Do remarkable things for yourself, do things that give you a warm feeling and that warm feeling would keep you warm in your cold grave. That is what I mean.
“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”
-Perks of being a wallflower
Do you remember the time when we wanted to grow old fast?
I do. I remember that innocent face of childhood. And how much I wanted to grow out of it and become a teenager, an adult.Everything about being old seemed ethereal, exquisite.You know how we used to believe that being 16 or 17 would change the real us. How we used to equate being old with being happy, that our lives would be smoother without any sharp edges.And do you remember how much we would glow when we said When I grow old…? And look at us now. We feel that we are immature even when people think we are strong enough to hold the entire cosmos on our shoulders. We are insecure. We know growing old means seeing the harsh truth, it means finding yourself in dark corridors.It means fading away eventually and that all our deeds would return to dust when we want them to be stars.We know that nor marble nor the gilded monuments of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme.
I recently read a poem called Childhood by Markus Natten. And even though I didn’t get the warm feeling, full of meaning that you get when you read works of maybe, Robert Frost or William Wordsworth, I now do understand the poem. In a sad way, full of longings. I realized that we waste so much of our precious today by thinking of an uncertain future. Even though I had a lovely time back then, unknowingly it was me who intoxicated the joys and innocence of those days. And I just don’t want to do that now. I want to live for today. I don’t want to think of morrow. I want to be infinite in the moment. I just want to…
I think it is okay to lie.
Shouldn’t our life be just beautiful? Don’t we all deserve, if not a happily ever after, than at least a happy middle? And is it wrong to lie a bit to achieve that little piece of happiness?
And guilt follows.
I create people around me. I pretend that those people love me and I do feel loved. I don’t a have a clear-crystal image of those people in my mind, just a faint, flickering one. I don’t know how these people sound, I just hear a different version of my thoughts, I guess. I don’t know for sure. And I think it’s okay to lie to myself that I would one day meet these people. At least someone like them. I know it’s stupid. And maybe in some way disgraceful. But when huge clouds hang around me, these are the people that provide me with a haven. Warm and comfortable.
The only thing I do hate is my desperation to make these people real. I make stories about them and tell it to the world. It’s like, if someone else talks about them, I get a step closer to my illusions. And it feels good. I know it’s illusion. I know its is.
This is the excerpt for your very first post.
I want the world to know that there exists someone like me.Someone willing to hear, someone who wants to be heard.
When we sometimes do something good or when we say something so elegant that for one moment we think that yes, we have done something at last, that all the meaning there is in world is known to us, we sometimes wonder if someone else will know what we’ve just done. Would the spark of insight that was ignited inside us be acknowledged? Will people look at us with awe and will they talk about us? We wonder and wonder and wonder but we never know. It’s a terrible emotion with terrific beauty so enchanting that even the most articulate of writers cannot pen it down.
I write today because I want people to know that I, indeed, have ignited that spark.I write today because I want to know that someone else too did ignite that spark in other life, other dimension.
I want to believe that people understand. I want to believe that I am needed. Be it a stranger staring at the blank screen,wanting to be heard. You know how Peter in Tonight the streets are ours just wanted to be heard? How Charlie in Perks of being a Wallflower poured his heart out to an anonymous friend? How Cath in Fangirl befriended people who were made of nothing but ink and paper? I want to be that anonymous friend to someone. I want to be that ink and paper.