Sunday, November 24, 2019

2660 : The litany of grief

"Do I carry too much grief?"

I often get asked that in some form or shape. Am I missing someone dear? Whats amiss in the world around me? Is my writing a dirge or a lament?

Why? I mean, why you ask, do I get these kind of questions?

Sometimes its the writing. Sometimes its my tenor. Sometimes its just me - who is present here, but who is also waltzing with his past.

So are the questions fair? I believe so.

Are they onto something? Depends. Let me try and explain in some limited sort of way.

I moonlight as a poet. Not someone who romanticizes poems, but someone who just enjoys words and their play, and most importantly how a bunch of garbled alphabets - can lend so much power and thought over my own internal being, and more so, can convey so much to another living being. She/he can experience something that I might be trying to convey without ever having met me, or seen me or even knowing that some stranger like me exists.

As a poet, I love to express a strong emotion. Or at least I try to? I want to convey something I feel everyday, something I saw/see in that moment.

So does that mean I see a lot of grief around me? Do I see a lot of brokenness around me?

Yes and No. Yes, in the sense that I definitely and genuinely see many cracks in the world around me. I see a world which is constantly being mindlessly shredded, physically, literally and yes, figuratively too. And that impacts me, it brings me to my knees - almost praying and being defeated at the same time.

And yet, No too. (For the question, do I see a lot of grief around me?).
I don't only see cracks and leaks. I also see a magical universe around me. One in which I know I am an accidental collection of cells. I know my ego is a figmented construct built to help these cells preserve themselves. And I also know that the Buddha was fundamentally right. This is one huge continuum. We are just part of the gravy train. Water that flows along the river, imagining it is stand along water, but actually its not just intermingled with the river, but with the ocean, the earth and the universe. Just one giant continuous train wreck. One bogie ending where the other one starts.

So, the drift is....
I write about what appears to be grief or brokenness or sadness, because I distinctly see a different way of being. I clearly do visually how beautiful I would be, if I could choose something different; or how marvelous we could be, if we partnered up, instead of divi-ed up; or how there is always a better way of being. Always. Even in the worst of times and the best of times.

And that better way of being, needs to be acknowledged, understood and then tirelessly chased. If we cannot find meaning in that, then sadly in this reductionist world, I might as well, do hara kiri now, as in, NOW.

The only meaning in this world; and I mean ONLY in a capital sense; is to recognize the road ahead and move ahead. As the Buddha would say, leave the world in a better place than how you find it. That is meaning, and that is the ONLY truism in this world.

And that truism, is what drives me to write, to highlight to myself, more than others, what "good" looks like, and how "better" is the only path in this world, that is worth walking upon.

So, am I full of grief? No, "full of shit" is more likely.

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