Little moments of joy - how many of us have time to stop and stare. In their pathways to the Hall of Fame, amidst all blame-game, how many of us spend time in the solace of reflection at what really makes them happy.
In a movie seen recently, I heard the 2 very poignant lines that stayed as stray strands of unsettling association -
at the end of any event, stop and question - 'what do we know now and what have we learnt.' The question stretches itself to further build on - have we learnt anything at all ?
In fact, time given for self-absorption means time gained in return.
Time given to oneself for the love of solitude, translates in return to moments or selfish joy in harmony with one's own aura.
How many of us ponder as they wonder on the triggers and barriers of their own existence?
Do we care enough to love ourselves - so lost are we in our own bread and butter pursuit.
Do we really listen to our inner voice - or the stop button engineered in our system?
How many of us, have again, given up - lost in the flow of time ?
I do know of some - quite close to home- who are waiting on the watch - looking for seconds to pass and the fate to reveal its mysteries.
Their eyes have lost the glow- spark of life amiss.
Questions linger in their minds - where is their life headed to? But little do they question themselves of their own wants and needs. Least do they realize, their own essence in their own happiness.
For these people, the joy in their lives seems measurable - actually reduced to some numbers which they crush with their own footsteps.
Mirthless in their own company, these lackluster people yearn deep down- for the little joys- that had made them happy in their days of innocence.
Their eyes perhaps see the picture of a long winded road left behind, while today , they feel no courage to turn back the time.
Anchored in moneyed hopes, these people find the canvas a jigsaw puzzle - while the numb pieces fall in places by themselves. The hands remain tightly pinned to their sides out of their own volition. Fire seems to have deserted them , as their blue hearts fail to keep pace with the thunder outside.
They become a parasite - to their own dreams or another's - which they zealously veto.
.... And slowly, the rat-race, turns the brightest into the most insipid- as he or she becomes an effigy of the ordinary...as countless year after year, the children plunge down the linear path of co-existence, failing to rise up or put a foot down- to crystallize their own sense of adult self. The id-entity gets submerged in the shadowed identity, as the clouded vision fails to see the bright light ahead.
How many of us thus have time look inwards- giving time to self ? Have we placed much faith in the idea of self healing at one's own pace and space?
We must love our own limits, to explore beyond them. The elasticity of existence, must be tested - the battle against self-drudgery , in itself a war to be won. All we need to do, is at times, give reigns to our silencio- to hear its echo when the mind's at the loudest.