Subject To Change

“Everything changes, nothing remains without change.” Buddha

Archive for the ‘Reflections’ Category

.An Apple Never Falls Far From The Tree

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We are born into a world of ready-made information. The moment we first open our eyes – from black to white, reds and yellows, to the wide array of colours, shades and tones – we are treated through our senses with so much information. But can we really call this information?

Let’s consider them as merely sensory details, just raw data entering our eyes, ears, nostrils, tongue and nerve-endings. There is so much we could do with all these sensations. There are so many combinations of sight and sound, taste and smell, and touch etc. And yet, how do we interpret these?

Children are shown pictures of an apple with the wording “Apple”, then pointed at and read aloud:
“This is an apple”.
Then they are shown the same for a tree:
“This is a tree”.
These two are then put together and they are told:
“Apples come from trees”.

Over 2 million years of human existence we have developed our intelligence and made sure it is carried on through the process of learning. However, it seems as though there is more teaching (and preaching) going on than actual seeking of knowledge.

No one challenges the fact that apples come from trees – it is readily accepted, no salt or sugar added, just straight off the rocks, undiluted “truth”. But what if it isn’t so?

What if someone screwed up somewhere in their perception of apples and trees, and sent it down from generation to generation. No one bothered correcting them because either no one knew better, or it was simply too stupid to even need to correct. And as it went on down the line, the others forgot, and soon it became accepted. How could that happen? Think about it.

What if enough people believe in an absurdity?
Then it HAS to be true, right?
What is the probability of a mass delusion?
Is it even a delusion when a majority have accepted it to be a reality?

What is real?
There is no one reality.
There is no “the Reality”.
There is only my reality, and your reality, and his and hers and their reality.
None of these have to be the same, and they usually are not, as much as you may think they are.

What we perceive to be reality is simply the way in which we choose to understand the world around us.
It is merely a construct, based on the inputs of our senses, forged by the process of our minds.
Every individual has their own reality, and thus, every individual has their own delusion.

So, collectively, does it all add up to one big reality? Where it all balances out, opposites cancelling out and similarities adding up? Or just one big delusion?

Apples come from trees, don’t they?


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May 13, 2009 at 9:48 pm

.Nobody’s Fault But My Own

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Nobody’s Fault But My Own by Beck (lyrics)

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April 26, 2009 at 2:22 am

.What Do I Need?

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Who do I get it from?

Which question do I answer first
Does it even matter?

I seem confused, is what I’ve been told.
              Enjoy your life, you’re just a kid.
You need to talk to someone.
    Have you thought about counselling?
There’s nothing wrong with you.
    You don’t have to change.
Freak. Psycho.
                   You’re just different, that’s all.
         They don’t see you like I do.
Unique. Special. Gifted.
You’re just a kid, what’s bothering you?
                                                      Just a kid…
He is very talented
but needs to be constantly checked
to ensure he does not go astray.

Where am I heading?
Where will this take me?
Will you be there
Waiting to save me
Or will I never know
Who it is I need
Will time only show
What I need from you.

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April 26, 2009 at 12:13 am

.Plain Tea

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Woken up at noon today, by my brother saying we were to have lunch at a relatives place. Got up and got ready. Got there, nothing to do, no one to speak to. Ate lunch, wondered who the hell the little kids were. An uncle shows off his dual-SIM Chinese phone, goes on to talk about Tamil gangsters in the UK, and how Tamils are great at creating their own businesses. Familiar faces entered, finally someone to talk to. Everyone’s finished eating, the kids are playing out in front, I see Dad’s phone on the table. Snatch it, get onto Twitter, scroll through the updates, don’t feel like saying much. End up on camera, take a look around. Fuzzy, try changing settings. Sepia tone looks best, click. Turn off flash, click. Mess around with exposure, click. Contrast, click. Suddenly feel energetic, zooming in and out. Move about clicking at random, the display becomes my eyes, my sight, my vision. Capturing still-frames hoping to hold on to a thought, or steal one right out of another, and freeze it in one place, to look at again. Don’t understand grown-ups being camera shy. Asked no one to pose or smile, ‘cheese’ didn’t slip off any tongue. I felt alive, in such a strange way, just looking at the moments I’d caught, like bugs in a jar, birds in a cage. Tea was served, “plain tea or milk tea”, plain, please. Relatives do not understand the concept of “plain”, ginger does not go into plain tea. Not enough sugar, I take 3 teaspoons. Never mind, I’ve got pictures to take, moments to steal. Grandma is sitting outside, drinking her milk tea. Pouring it onto a saucer, this is how tea should be drunk. Carrom board comes out, game on. I choose to spectate, watching from the sidelines, in sepia tone. It’s not only the fingers that snap, even the toes curl and snap, so intense. The kids have come in, they all join in watching the game. Everyone’s together now, though I hardly know their names. I have no more pictures to take, I am fully immersed in this time and place. I felt great.


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April 20, 2009 at 8:10 am


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I was asked to leave alone, I did so.

And I still am… inching forward afraid of losing track.

I can barely see you now, but I still remember.

I remember – I shouldn’t, but I do.

I will forget, though I swore I’d never.

Have you?

Does my name ever resound in the back of your mind?

My name that only you could pronounce the way I like to hear it.

If I could hear it again, those two syllabes, in your voice, from your lips, onto my ears… I would hold on to it, and play it back over and over and over again until I forget that it is only my name. I would listen to the sound like a prayer in the quiet confines of my mind, echoing onto the walls that close me in, reverberating back and forth. Resonating within, I would keep you there, if only just a part of you, one little bit, would you let me?

Or am I asking for too much?

Why is it that the single most important thing, is often what you can never have?

You have your reasons. That’s the bottom line.

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April 17, 2009 at 1:24 am

.Ropes & Ladders

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Escapism. It can take place anywhere. From the carefully thought out lines of prose breaking off into free-flowing streams of poetry. As the rhymes and cries silently mute and subside. The well digs deeper into the fertile soil. Looking for water as the subject is drowned. Forgotten once more as the cries from below. And the mind loses grip of proverbial words.

Passive, I become to even my own thoughts. Anything that is read is a subject that is taught. Is it worth keeping up the fight when the struggle is within? We say we’re fighting enemies but where do we begin? Some mean good and some mean bad. Dictionaries are tools for the literary mad. Identity is a necessity and it needs to be known. But is it ever shown?

I have flown… digressing from the drifters and slipping into the unknown.. I create my own problems then ask others for solutions. I am most guilty of emotional pollution. Something is inherently wrong with this system. But who defines wrong? And who is the victim?

Questions, questions, questions. I’m all full of questions. But even with the answers, there itself lies the question. Where does trust lie and when does faith reason? Has the day of judgement passed? For this is my confession.

No longer does this blog serve a purpose. Or at least the one it had when I created it. I wanted anonymity, yet I let myself be found. I am not getting far by neither leaps nor bounds. Though I am always running, the ground was always moving. Does it make a difference which direction I face? How much is missed simply tying a shoe-lace? Do I keep strutting forward, or do I stop and ask directions? Maybe from a tour-guide or maybe a policeman. Any one is fine all – I need is direction. Just point me somewhere – I may soon learn my lesson.

nb: read a draft of this at the last Open Mic. It’s been two months since I wrote this, about time I posted it. I don’t care which version’s better. Just needed to put something out. So there.

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April 11, 2009 at 1:40 am

.”We All Have These Moments”

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“We all have these moments”, I’ve been thinking about those words for a while since I read a comment on my previous post. Normally I’d reply “no, we don’t” in an attempt to seperate myself from everyone else, but, I can’t be bothered doing that anymore. Sure, we all have these moments, but does it help?

Does the fact that other people too experience the same thing as you provide any real comfort? It doesn’t for me. It somehow devalues it, makes it seem unworthy of any effort to get out of feeling that way. Suddenly, my “struggle”, seems childish and… insignificant. I could use more-fitting words, but my mind’s not in the right state right now to be looking for them.

Maybe we do. Yeah, you’re right, we all probably do. This post is pointless, but I had to get that out. Just a thought, but yeah. Anyways.

There’s a strange comfort that comes out of dreaming your own death. I use the word “dream” intentionally, because I don’t mean a nightmare. When fear, anxiety and regret fill up my body and mind, I often imagine jumping off the second/third floor/roof. And the thought calms me down. Does that make me suicidal? I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is I’m calm, and I’m glad. Just hope it lasts.

I also imagined that before I jumped I would write a long blog post, and it would end with this song:

Cold Contagious by Bush (lyrics)

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March 31, 2009 at 12:37 am