Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Taken not given

Sometimes you meet a really nice guy and you are taken aback for a bit because you need more than the usual few seconds to try and comprehend this person. There are times while in the middle of a conversation, you could swear you left your body a little bit and watched history being made because there is no way your life is going to be the same. Such beauty has unfortunately been abused and packaged in a very ordinary box that has been labelled cliché. You dare not mention that there is a special-ness that can not necessarily be fit into the boundaries of diction because that is simply not realistic; a presence that seems to saturate the air around the moment filling your lungs and through your blood engraving itself on your memory and sinking far beyond that place of reason.

Have you ever had one of those days where the odds seem to be in your favour and you indeed agree that the lines have fallen in favourable places for you but you just can’t find your ummmpphh? You walk around choosing to audibly and on purpose point out all that is good, no, great with the day; Things like the sky being bluer than ever, strangers going out of their way for you and the simple joy of tasting amazing food but in vain. The fight seems to progress with the hour hand, wondering whether to be honest about your disposition or fight what seems to be your ungratefulness blinding you to the blessing that is your life.

I once read a book that had me in tears, actually I have encountered about 3 such books in my entire reading life. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I encountered artistry that carried within it truth and promise that resonated with un-named things in my being, calling forth…me. I was brought face to face with an aspect of self that had not come to surface because the avenues had been lacking and yet there I was through the words of another finding myself. I let them flow as I drew breaths from deep places attempting to re-assign stability to the ground that was beginning to feel like straw in a windy field, soon to be everywhere but where you want it to be.

For a long time now, I have been trying to explain to mostly myself the unusualness of what triggers dopamine release into my system. I have carried out experiments, documented (in my head), the results, put them side by side and tried to come up with deductions. Needless to say, I have failed because I am not even sure what it is that I am writing about in this very sentence. Over the years, I have grown and a lot has changed about me. My principles have moved from hardly existing to extremely significant to being constantly questioned, mostly by myself. During heart-wrenching moments and dream ridden nights, I came to a conclusion that this, my heart, is not given. I have tried to give it to those who seem right and deserving, to those who endeavor to protect it and seek it out with little success. I have told myself over and over again that these are the ones I have been waiting for and over and over again, I have not taken to heart my own words. However, on some days, I have been caught off guard; by a statement, a way of life, a perspective and a “je ne sais quoi” element that has had me take a few steps back to try and take it all in. Just like those three books, a voice has broken through to parts not so familiar yet so right. 

I have indeed concluded that this heart of mine is taken not given.