Of Selfishness and Change

I am here; curled up on a sofa in my corner with a cup of steaming coffee and the laptop. There is something increasingly calm about occupying a place where you can sit quietly and observe everything but people ignore you, because you are almost invisible in that spot. It lovely having a piece of mind without anyone around to pry or engage you, and at times these are the very moments that one craves. The ‘me-times’. Are we really selfish beings that don’t care about what goes around? Or do we just care too much?

I think it’s the latter. We care a little too much about others, about what goes around that we forget to pay the required attention to ourselves. To look at ourselves and think of where we might need grooming. No, we are too worried about how the others should behave, dress and speak etc. that we don’t even mind our own. We pay no mind to our own activities as we set on the journey to create a better world.

Change starts from within, from us. We can never bring a change that we want unless we alter ourselves to it first, there cannot be change if we ourselves refuse to change. With every little modification we make in ourselves we grow up a little, we become wiser, we progress and this development only can let us change the world for better.

We need the ‘me-times’; we need them to become a little selfish, to give ourselves a thought and a cleansing. Without being selfish we can never accept being ourselves and without having the confidence of being ourselves we cannot accept nor bring a change. Change from within, change for the betterment not for acceptance.

-Momina. 

Image courtesy: Google.

Exposed.

The colors are blinding and binding at the same time, the black more pronounced and inviting, drawing me in while I try to open my eyes wide and take in as much of the other colors as possible. It’s like trying to breathe while the air is slowly filing out. I drag my eyes as the blue hues drape my vision. I thrash around in agony as I try to make my way to the center of the swirl of colors.  A sound so high pitched ring in my ears that I leave my grasp and go spinning back to the black edge; I look regretfully back to the rainbow as I am swallowed by the darkness. The obscurity prevails while I am suspended there, as if in still air, there is nothing around; I am sure it’s the end of me yet there is a calmness that surrounds me. Light, so harshly white that I want to be suspended back in the black; I feel exposed as I walk through it, it’s as if a sketch is coming back to life. I have the sudden urge to weep. To sit down there on the white silkiness and cry out my fears, my pains. I feel pain, excruciating pain that haunts me. The white is too much to bear. I feel the tears spring out my eyes, they are red. The red amongst the white seems so vividly alive as it creeps towards me while turning into a deep orange that fades to nothing while the white dims. It’s nothing.

-Momina.

Echoing secrets

It’s in the wee hours of the morning when everything is so still it’s almost sinister, when the silence can be shattered by the drop of a pin, when it’s slightly scary even in the comfort of your own house; it’s in these dark moments that deep thoughts prevail me and I get the urge to write down all those. They are not about my life, these thoughts; they are about life in general, about the laws of nature and about people, strangers and friends alike. 

In these hours nothing makes sense and yet all of it makes more sense than ever. It’s so intricately designed, to be understood but at a certain moment, to be known but at a specific time; when you doubt it. When you suspect the truth of your thoughts and when truth is not transparent but lucid. The reality is so obvious that it’s suffocating.

And as dawn descends my pen just hovers over the paper, it has left splotches of ink; dark blue circles spread across the clear page. I recognize the truth but I have no power to write it, my thoughts reside but my words escape and betray me. A betrayal that doesn't hurts, an infidelity so obvious it is looked over, for these secrets are meant to be realized not spoken. Everyone falls through the reality of these moments, none can flee and none can incarcerate it in words or so. They are meant for all of us alone, secrets of nature that are meant to exist in in nature only. 

-Momina.

Picture source: http://stanzlife.wordpress.com/

Tread it Together!

When there’s not much to say,

And too much has been heard.

Regrets pile up along with each step

The road seems all desolate and dust.

Look for the tiny green sprouting up,

Around you among the dried up crust

Wonder, how in the deserts they mature?

When all tread it together you see,

It’s about time the earth goes soft and subtle

That’s where you are right now, child,

Helping in smoothing land for tomorrow. 

Momina.

You can't leave it blank...

You could try to move on.

I could, perhaps, but it isn't easy. I don’t know where to begin, what to change and what to pause.

Start from within, start from yourself.

Is the problem inside me?

No. Maybe.

It is isn't it. They let me go, they never held me back. It’s me whose been holding myself back there.

It’s okay, it happens.

No… it’s me. It’s like I am stuck in quicksand. Moving is impossible.

You can try.

Haven’t I done that, already? Tried. I am too stuck with these people. I know that if I love them I’ll let them go. But I do love them, and it’s obvious that I've let them go, but I can’t accept that.

You have to; you have to acclimate to it.

Why?

Because if you won’t, you’ll destroy yourself; you’ll hurt your own self.

Perhaps that’s what supposed to happen.

No, then you’ll wrong the people who believe in you. Wrong the people who you love and those who love you.

Can’t I just start all over?

That’s what you have to do, start all over. Let them go, it’s a new beginning. It’s yours to write.

What if I leave it blank?

You won’t. You know yourself better than others, you know you never miss a chance. You are to help other people, cheer them, and be there for them. And some of them will be there for you, always and you won’t regret it. Even for its setbacks.

You think so? Will I be able to do that?

I know so, you've already done that. Once, it’s time to do it again. To let those in, who want to love you, who will love you.

Perhaps. And you…

Me…?

Thank you, I love you.

And I, you.

-Momina.

Stagnant in emotions

We are caged from within, by ourselves; our ways of life, our morals, our personality. We cannot change that. No matter how brutal the fall or how hard we try, how many coats we plant on. We always remain the same at our core.  We always fall prey to ourselves. Even the strongest of us breakdown, once in a while, from the pressure of it all.  It’s there, pulling us down, drowning us whilst we try to breath in the stuffy air. Is it wrong, is it really, to want from others at the same degree? Are our expectations really pointless? Do we not deserve the same? Or are some of us just here to look after and not be look-after-ed? It makes us want to change, we make promises to ourselves but in the end we are the same, the same we were yesterday; probably with another layer that is supposed to harden us, but is really just pointless. We are there for others, standing there suspended in waiting while the others have already moved on. They are too far to notice us still standing there stagnant in emotions and morale. They've changed, found another somebody to rely on, to look forward to. It doesn't matter to them, but to us.

And at the end of the day, those little unsaid words of appreciation are really what break us down. It makes us wants to stop caring when we can’t, to stop expecting when we can’t; because we our bound by our ways, our principles, our personality. Whilst they… they've gone... moved on. 

Momina.

Unanswered

The weather is gloomy and dreary; oppressing as heaving mist so everything seems monotonous. Dull. Unexciting. Yet, in this colorless environment, today I hum like a ball of energy, ecstatic. There’s no reason to it in general, but I am content, satisfied; the type of content that comes after venting out something that you've long kept with yourself, the type of content that brings utter joy, even with all the questions still unanswered, even with the future a puzzle.  Why? Because it’s suppose to be that way, not all questions are supposed to be answered there and then, sometimes you just give them time and they  just unfold themselves into answers. And the future, of course is always a riddle. Even when it’s all planned and set for you, it’s really just wobbly. You can see through it, but you can never be sure of how stable it is. A split second, that’s all it takes for the ground to disappear from underneath you. The insurance and protections, they don’t matter then.  We stand, but we really might just drop down any second. Not a single minute is predictable, well… maybe some are, but most aren't.

‘Live in the moment’, they say but every moment we live, we are planning the other. It’s such an intricate web of events. The one moment that you are living this minute is turning into your past by the same rate. And in that very moment you are also planning your future, yes, it could be something as simple as ‘I gotta tell this to my friend’ or ‘I’ll make that for lunch’, but it’s happening.  I said that future is a riddle; well the present and past don’t seem to be such a simple case themselves. 

-Momina.

Love

Love, what is it, really?

A simple emotion to show that you care and understand, or a complex mode, that envelops you inside itself, making it unmanageable to disentangle?
Love, they say you never plan of falling for it, it just happens. Like meant-to-be’s. Like miracles? 

Love, they say it gives you infinite happiness. Just like taking you over the moon and your frequent visits to cloud nine. Or the feeling when your feet don’t stay on the ground.

I think I know love. I think I understand. Why wouldn't I?

I have seen it happen, I have felt it. I know the gusto of it, I know it’s craze.

It’s blissful. It’s petty.

It’s ecstatic. It’s contagious. 

It’s the serenity of living in a dream. It’s the beauty of being awake in that very dream.

It’s the dream of reality.

Why wouldn't I know love? Why wouldn't I feel it? It’s there around me. It’s not a lover’s kiss for me; it’s my sister’s peck, my friends’ smiles. The laughter and love in all those eyes that are around me. The sparkle and the sheen. I know love and that’s love.

It’s the afterglow that sustains, forever.

-Momina.

Picture source: http://www.facebook.com/HaadPhotography?fref=ts

Crazy Ramblings #6

I have started relying on coke for when I get stressed. I just fill up a big coffee mug with it's cool blackness and sit in a quiet corner nursing my issues. I guess you have to, sometimes, you reach the level where you can't bother others with your own problems. It's then that you lean on these worldly non-living-but-fizzing-in-your-cup-as-if-alive things. I know it's mostly desserts people prefer with the whole phenomena of stress-spelled-backwards-is-desserts but coke is just as good. It doesn’t out does chocolate though, but it works fine, really. And the way it pops and fizzes in your mouth is somehow very calming.

And while I let out my concerns to coke, it frost the cup, letting out it's on the big mug it's filling. And I suppose the mug lets it out in the air where it all mingles with other stuff hanging there; looked over stuff, avoided stuff, disappointed stuff. It's there, together in it's loneliness. Like me. like us. I think too much. Next time I'll try calling a friend while drinking that mug of coke; someone to hold me in the reality, while I am probably going crazy.

Momina.

Looming Question Marks.

What if we were never borne? What if we had died ages past?

What if there was no tomorrow? Yesterday was history and we had regrets and qualms?

What would happen if we lost everyone? If there were no strangers but wars predicted?

What if we never got a chance and everything was as easy as we desired?

Would there still be faith to hold on? Would we still have questions to ask?

When would we realize then? When would we try then?

Will we still think like we do, now? Will we still use our minds then?

If world was as easy as we want it to be, wouldn’t we just be blind arrogant fools then?

Momina.