The Beach or the Mountains?

Simple questions most often torment me in the most complicated ways. A burden with consquential decision is often well understood, comprehended and realized.However when you think too deeply about the most simple questions, apart from being confusing, they are unnecessarily draining. To put to an end to the struggles of an habitual overthinker like me ,I finally answer an question that often perplexes me.

The sea or the mountains?

I still remember the most memorable vacation that I had with my family, on a new year’s Eve at an overcrowded beach with commercial messages and the expectation of exotic in everyone’s mind.

As I stood feeling contnently and quite unexpectedly estranged from a crowd of people ,my trousers not rolled up high enough. I could feel the sand shifting below my feet, making me feel as though I was being stilted forwards.The cool breeze full with the smell and hopes of a new start from across the globe flowing in my face pushing me backwards and the settings sun freezing the time.The water gently stroking and engulfing my feet before retreating back quickly, allowing me no time to understand it or behold it while composing my thoughts.

A moment not long enough to be certain, but not brief enough to discourage hope. In the midst of confusion of motion, time and the changing colors. I felt like I was on the brink of something vast and vague as the sea itself. I felt like I was being transported in another dimension full of uncertainty but possessing wondorous excitement of a naive child almost silly in his lack of depth. It felt like a daze so new that it tingled inside ,demanding permenace.

A peace due to the absence of comprehension and a lack of need for the same. A moment that would never be the same, if stirred or jolted back to reality.Carrying me to something dreadfully alluring. With the vast sky challenging me even when it was suppose to lay as a protective shield. The enormity ,so peculiar that it didn’t make you feel small. Even while magnifying, it made the beholder feel grand and visible in it’s luminous light, whitening textures for recurring seconds, and calmly violent winds.

That moment with no concept of spectrum or concrete is etched in my memory and gushed in urgently when I read Ayn Rand’s ‘The Fountainhead’ years later.Even in the difference of narratives, that stir of storm filled my soul until I finally closed the doors to that living entrance of a flowing, crashing and moving dream.

To me it was extraordinary and now that intangible always pulls me towards a sea.Towards all the longing to feel that dangerous chaos that rejuvenates.


My gravity

The only way to deafeat your issues,

Is to first and foremost comprehend your problems.

If you are a person like me, whose prime worry is not the potential to face or solve problems, but failing to recognize it, or even after venturing upon a realization, failing to remember it, then we must collectively stratergize to find a solution.

The issue we see here is not denial but a tendency to have to constantly remind yourself of the issues, occasionally paired with a devil may care attitude.

I don’t suppose that pain is a way of life, it is rather a turbulation which is bound to arise on a path constantly reconstructing itself.

To have large spells were you are oblivios that it is the gravity keeping you down, the only force preventing you to float up in those atmospheric rivers.

A phenomenon of becoming habituated with a current state that you completely dismiss the possibility of a change in your ceteris paribus.An inability to first and foremost fully understand the consequences, before accepting or tackling the conclusions which leads to frustration and accusations of inefficiency on our own selves.

We as legendary human race have a bizzare habit to inculcate irrational jealousies and my guilt would be not being able to live like people who not only realize problems, but embrace, accept, ingrain it in their existence as naturally and rhythmically as breathing ,that they become immune to it, not only fighting valinatly outside but being inwardly brave, content and inspiring.

It’s an epiphany when theoretically glorified ideals like trickle down effects can transcend into realities while some of us might hilariously end up feeling like a chaotic mess of the confusing, yet fascinating 21st century.

Defeat in joy

I don’t understand how things can be so simple and yet so complicated that instead of instilling in you awe, they just leave you feeling empty and bewildered. Helpless, because of your own frustration.

Why does everything brilliant, in it’s bright shine leave a flutter of defeat and resignation for such a split second that isn’t enough to ignore, nor enough to notice.
I have often approached life and circumstances with questions rather than answers. I have been unfocused, delusional but always keen on hearing answers, concrete and fundamental. It is partially because I know those answers will never be enough to last a lifetime. Like everything maginificent, they will liberate me for a short moment, before returning to oblivion, becoming inconsequential, replaced by some other temporary obsession.

They will stand the test of time for civilizations to come, they’ll be reborn, but they will fail the time of a singular man. A man who might never survive to see the life come to a full circle, if he refuses to acknowledge the truth with no displacement in the present.

Among many other simple questions of mine the question that always finds it’s way back to me is ,Why do I like to write?
Why do I like it even when I feel that all I am doing is inserting simple logic disguised in eloquent statements, being uplifted by some false sense of beauty or intellect. Most of the times, what I write about, what others write about are those same monotonous subjects, the same theories, the same story of vague ambiguous emotions, lessons which are so inconclusive , that they fail to serve any definite purpose. Even when being homogeneous they never truly integrate.

How every abstract idea that builds in my head is crushed due to the pressure of convention,only able to survive a raw form. After being snubbed as ridicule by none other than myself.
Why are we all so afraid of levitating in a different direction? Are we terrified that it will shake our foundations? If yes, then what difference does we truly make, how are we special if we never choose a new path because we don’t have enough trust in our faith and we have have reservations that our ideals will fail us. Not able to step across a treshold.When we don’t have courage to know our own useful life without calculating our depreciation.

I know tomorrow I will read this and excuse myself by saying maybe I had a bad day, maybe I was in a foul mood. I will think I have been a vain egoist by writing this, and if that is the case I’m glad I could admit it.
I will never go below the surface of what I might end up confessing, discovering or literally unearthing only if I chose to go deeper.
All this because I’m afraid to not only drown but also to admit that I am afraid.I am afraid that the oxygen of certainity will not reach my lungs and the pressure of time, knowledge and practises will make it impossible for my small frame and untrained mind to tread below.

I need the sunlight of sureity and reassurance, the freedom of the air that everyone breathes. The vast expanse of open skies, to admire from the ground. I need the reward of life, I need the approval of the only truths I’ve known.

In that deep treacherous corner I will admit as coldly as I started that I am afraid of dark ,I am afraid of that escape. Darkness has no source, it has no reference and I must turn to the reality that was built for me. Built by strangers , built by people I love. I might just be a creeper, who needs to cling for support to rise and grow. Maybe we all are viruses that just need a host to survive.


When you feel everything is swirling in your head. When you feel the wind press hard on your face. When you are in the tryst to give up your rest. Remember, just take a deep breath.

Inhale your life, feel the scents. Capture the enormous , swallow the strength. Absorb the energy ,let it seep in your veins. Let it reach your heart and supply your barins. Breathe the life, breathe the ways, breathe through purity, breathe through stress. Smell the exhaustion mixed with the smell of summer, smell the winds and sense the ocean, smell the emotions and see the life, smell the food and feel pure joy, smell the sweat to listen to dreams. Smell and dust as well as the fresh breeze.Smell to see, hear and feel. Take everything in because you were born for it, capture it ,because it sustains you. Breathe because that is what we all deserve,it is our the common logo through all the seggregation that we construct. It’s what me make that helps us be alive, it’s the air we share which senses the love we emit.

No matter where you are, no matter how you rest. The feel of the mountains, the buzzing of the streets. The vex of emotions, or the beginning of actualizations. What’s really consistent is the need to process. When finally the words fall short,when finally the objectives are gone. What remains is a breath, always there through the bittersweet endings, or the sighs of contentment.

We laugh and cry in vicious circles. We go through a range of emotions. We transverse through phases , we endure and embrace changes but what never changes is need to breathe. A deep breath to remain as well as feel alive.

It can be the Kirk breathing of exhaustions, the rhythmic breathing of peace, the fast breathing of nervousness, or the slow breathing of end, the temporary stop of fear or the race through happiness.

Breathe through the adolescent energy, breathe through the wrinkles that mesmerize your face. Breathe with the river flowing and flooding, breathe with the wind that flutters the leaves, breathe when the light feather slowly descends though the space. Try breathe when you’re starting to feel suffocated, breathe when you feel the current from another dimension. Breathe to be set free, breathe to commit yourself . Breathe with strangers and breathe with friends.

It’s funny how the most constant trait is a spectrum of variation and how the most calming feel is the most basic of sense.
Through all the religions through all the mediation. Through all your troubles , through all the instabilities. Inhale as well as exhale. Accept and let go.That’s all you need to do.

Just breathe

Wield the wand

Magic the credence that never dies. A tale of deadly tool for the wicked and the blesseth weapon for the bliss, and a force between this spectrum of extreme for those who believe in grey and the undefined perspective.
The tendency which ceases to allure with the passage of time and the frequency of use.A factor which is steadily ingnored due to habit and adaptation. A special gift which should be seldom used .

The decoration that adds to the aesthic and gaudy, yet so grand to be trivial and mundane.
We all want to be the Harry Potter, catch some fantastic beasts and be wizard of Oz but we might just be the secret of a traditional recipe, the unventured corner of a popular park, the window seat in a running train, the smile when the surrounding seems to drain, all desire, a wand and a cape but the simplest of magic is the one that lasts an eternity and remembered through all centuries.

To do the work of a lifetime in seconds of spells is the magic which restricts itself.It must yield a power as powerful unpredictable , and untamed as nature itself.
Magic lies in the air, you must breathe it without taking it for granted. Magic is a force to be explored, alluring and lethal. A soul which is beautiful because of it’s flaws.

You see it when you choose to, when you are brave enough to construct your own norms and undo all that you unconsciously inherit. When you are brave enough to sacrifice your label of ‘sanity’ and trade it for deals greater than mere eccentric.

When you enjoy every moment of losing control, and zealously admire your obsessing even when you are aware of how you shall be perceived. It’s about living a life with no certain rewards, and exasperating risks due to the characteristic traits of uncertainty.A intangible force making you jumpy but summoning you into a different dimension.
Magic is something you create, and not something you seek.
It lies deep inside you, with you being the one with the map to hunt the forbidden treasure, if you believe and choose to do so.

Brute Brain

I always knew I wanted to write to be like the authors who touch your heart , or crush it so deeply that even their fiction seems more concrete than reality. Those who create in me a crazy urge to break  free and away from the world that bounded me for a lifetime only to be a part of something that enchanted me for a couple of hours. 

It sends me deep into retrospection afraid of what I want to find or to admit that I already know my answers.They are so powerful you feel emotion more strongly than you can imagine. They scare you, that you might break apart piece by piece just by syllables from words alone. They change something in you ,without indulging in the complicated network of knowing you.They can manipulate your emotions which is scary ,yet fascinating. I’d love to meet authors who plunged me into their brians, captured me by their claws through words alone.They altered my reality, or atleast how I perceive my reality.

But I’m afraid I am small in front of them. They show things and create a world so strange that it binds people.I’ve always wanted to do that , I’ve never been sure if I really could . They seem strong, certain they can plunge into the farthest corner of their minds transport the darkest ideas with eloquency. I’m afraid to even venture my thoughts astray from my comfort zone. I’m afraid I am not as creative, as perceptive as I perceive myself to be .Maybe I’m deceiving myself.Maybe I was never made to write. Maybe all I have is a pipe dream of a teenage girl who in all honesty is just mediocre , sometimes less than it.

Fame is not what I desire . I want to impact someone like they imapcted me . Leave a handprint of their mind.Transcend deep secrets to strangers in the vaguest words ,let them imagine the product of the working of my own brain.Give them freedom to create a memory yet control the frameworks of their imagination.

What I get stuck in is the technicalities of writing and free flow of my brute brain which doesn’t create something beautiful ,like my mentors did but rather something so plain that I’m afraid everyone will just step over it and they won’t be the one to blame.I feel I lack the I intellect , the instinct but what is terrifiying is my certainity to go ahead despite these restraints.I am a mortal being with irrational desires and illogical actions.Stupid. Human.

The fundamentals of funny

Add a pinch of funny to the dish of personality to create a gung-ho recipe of fun and effortless favorability.

The concepts of funny are available in various ranges, intensities and frequencies made to suit your subjective desires and wills with  imperfection. On the huge spectrum you can demand for ridicule, plead for self-deprecaition, seek the intelligence or thrive on sarcasm.

If you are vying for some attention and goodwill bring out the humour to serve the therapeutic effect. Afraid of how to start how about unapologetic honesty and a sincere effort to loosen up.Use the catch of candour or the power of contextual reference.

Looking for a fixed reputation bearing jokes invest in the trends, follow the mainstream and don’t shy away from your potential craziness and whack.

Be sure to maintain the fine line between the cynosure of my guide to charisma and the mantras of annoyance. It’s classic to make mistakes it’s the guaranteed path to a funnier lane.

Keep the sarcastic tones with the ironic undercurrents and rings always on the edge. Differneces in any aspect are alluring use them to your advantage.

Venture into the cosmic questions in the void. Detach yourself from the generic grave intellectual tones and give a shot to the eccentric and upbeat yet, you can always brood.

Confidence and bravery is the right key my lords and my ladies. Under uncontrollable environments when there is an advent into the downward spiral remember you ought to stop the non- sense at a certain point.

Always have the ready provisions of impairments and get habituated to occasional embarrasments and humiliation.

Strange as it might seem keep practising and executing the morals of your strange jokes even if they rapidly convert into dark and twisted imagination.

In the end if it all deviates from our intricately designed masterplan too great in authenticity you most likely should brace yourself for as the Indonesians like to call it a JAYUS!