Archives
Anthropomorphous Ape
As Darwin says, “There can be no doubt, that the difference between the mind of the lowest man and that of the highest animal is immense, if he could take a dispassionate view of his own case”.
But would not an anthropomorphous version of us, have to admit to very much the same sort of limitations? Dealing with them simply make one run the risk of attributing human-style consciousness to a group of subliminal dispositions which appears to be governed principally by a variety of urges - to dominate and display; to mate, feed, rest and groom.
If they are, in their indolence and solipsism, incessant squabbling and ungovernable promiscuity, are masquerading the vagaries of human nature, then I must say I am thoroughly appalled by my own sense of wisdom that claws into whatever I perceive from my surroundings. The sign of the “maturity” is reflecting in every possible way with the march of penguins and is driven by the solitary need to stuff their egos with irreprehensible panache that is nothing less than utter pile of Kafkaesque darkness.
If only this termination could find an explanation among the pre-conceived notions lying deep down the abyss of our super ego, probably that day would end the ever-lasting quest to find the evidence of a divine creator.
Have a nice life ……..
Burlesque at Equinox
Its looks rather stupendous than surreal that the all the unraveling mysteries of the life I have spent so far are suddenly flooding back to the crater of my heart from where it had been thrashing out to the fore vehemently and I have never seen any barrier strong enough to pull off even the slightest amount of grace out of this lost battle with my own demons. So sorry yet so painstakingly adamant on the view to see myself galvanize my destiny, I wonder that at times this whole shebang become so foolhardy that it relapses into its own dug pitfalls again and again.
It does sound very familiar to my life saga that has been put to the rhetoric of my every passing day, nevertheless there remains a chance to see a brighter horizon as the time passes me by. The fiercely consolidated logic behind my faith never looked any stronger in the wake of all the disasters I had been though but it still takes me by surprise by reminding me that I am still looking for a conviction to be imposed on me from the other side. The tearing reality doesn’t deny this wee fact that compared to others I draw comparisons from, how veiled my farcical existence is. There is a complete spectrum of layers superimposing each other on every stratum and most of the time they lie to me when I am gagging for the truth behind this monumental fallacy.
Whatever it takes nothing seems to pacify this everlasting quest for gratified wanderlust, but the best part of self-discovery is that it grows on you and never let others control what you are let alone controlling what you try to become...
Have a nice life you ............
Fate
Just stumbled upon this very nice piece of wisdom..... so thought of sharing it with you all my visitors:
Fate steals along with silent tread,
Found oftenest in what least we dread;
Frowns in the storm with angry brow,
But in the sunshine strikes the blow.
By Cowper
Have a nice life..
Tilting at windmills
At times there are instances where I fail to do anything but surmise that I would rather see myself at the mercy of uncertainty than relinquishing all that I have to prove others predictions about a certain future. This bravado of self-sustenance is nothing but a veil of siren that is shrouded by its own ignorance and slowly turning into a sob captivated in the grooves of mortality. Strange yet sermonically manifested realism that is clad in my alter ego has never looked any bitter than this despite my efforts to put a lid of transcendental fantasy to muff it down. This perpetual conundrum that is gradually giving way to a poisonous skepticism which is treading a path straddling across the domains of faith and insanity, is far from the reach of my ken, but interestingly enough i see myself change colors with nuances of this monumental perplexity. The evolution of my faith and denigration of mundane appendages looks similar to the parables, which I used to listen to in my hay-days with a tinge of disbelief. Paradoxically this stifling sense of liberation suggests in a rather skewed way that the endeavors to levitate this mortal existence of mine prove nothing without the descending aura of that oneness which is known to be turning never-contending melancholy into everlasting pleasure ever since the dawn of human history. Underneath the auburn shades of elms embraced in the locks of glittering twilight, there are velvety petals of rose scattered along the meandering path, which is kindled by the grace of his countenance. Even if our minds are falling prey to the towering darkness, it is the shining of this eternal flame, which is making all the sorrow and pain ebb even in the face of the most tumultuous atrocity human kind has ever seen. Have a nice life...
The Crumbling Juggernaut of Faith
Far from the dimming eyes of the sinking sun under the stupor of waxing darkness across the Westside horizon, the decaying gargoyle of our once unfathomable trust in the supreme order seems to have washed ashore like a fallen angle who is being dragged kicking and screaming by the rather reverential demons of the new world order.
This is nothing short of being congratulatory about the decadence of our own lifeblood under the influence of an unprecedented mass hysteria, but the real ironical slap in the face of this whole shebang is manifested in the ever-increasing ego driven mania towards the acquisition of more and more control over this petty and insignificantly lived life at the mercy of the inevitable clinch of the grim reaper.
On the other hand, this also shows that homogeneity of the system, once believed to be restricted or rather defined by the notions impregnated by the mythical wisdom is yielding to the randomness and chaos. One’s own defined monotheism is defining his or her religion stance therefore being judgmental by looking at representation of divinity imbued in mud doesn’t not infer the same about the divinity. As the traditional Taoist saying goes: "The Tao that can be told is not the Eternal Tao", it is quite evident that idol is a signpost to God, but it is not God itself. It is the “true-to-our-eyes” guise of the "Dogma of God” that becomes an object of worship. We perceive God in our very own way and there is no duplicity in the combination of the universality of God and the uniqueness of every individual.
It is true that by this reasoning, any form of fundamentalism is idolatry, whether monotheist, polytheist, or other. Having said that I personally believe that there are certain forms of faith resonating with cords of billions of the masses and any act of disrespect shown to them to some extent reflects the graduating moral bankruptcy of the society that we live in.
Have a Nice life ............
Floating Hopes on Fleeting Glances
It must have taken a modicum of an already ebbed struggle to pierce the elation of a far fetched span of my imagination to observe the increasing terseness in my yet-to-be smothered torso of ego with the dawn of every morning of the first day of the rest of my life. It is pretty interesting to see the passing of an insurmountable behemoth of skepticism in the wake of countless and petty resurfacings of my drowning resistance stemming out of my rather realistic and tireless quest to prove that there is a silver lining out there that will ditch this monumentally perpetual darkness pervading my inner realms.
In the face of a doomed existence and sucked hopelessly in the eye of the storm, even the slightest of the quiver imposes the risk of taking everything away from the clutches of my palms which are exposed mercilessly to the profligacy of a greedy destitute.Deep inside the cellar of a calmed exterior, I cast a serious doubt on finding a resting place for even the most ingrained piece of surrealistic thought. It doesn’t sound any more idiosyncratic than a routine encounter with a conversational cliché dwelling into nitty-gritty of the daily life that I am forced to live, although it traces back its origin to the day when it all took place to last beyond the horizon of my flesh and breath. This self-imposed veneer of blinded indigence threatens to strips myself off my most precious wealth of having the privilege of seeing the unseen with my eyes wide open even in the most profound darkness of my mercurial faith and incessant uncertainty.
All my prayers! Take me to the land of floating clouds and dancing moons encircling the periphery of the vision of my master, where time and space play the clown to steal a glance of the most primordial form of attraction which is holding everything seen and unseen together to mother the universes known and unknown to the intelligence harboring the third rock from the sun.
Have a nice life ............