Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Why choose?

Should I choose between being an ascetic and a hedonist? I want to be both.

An ascetic when I want to renounce the comforts and culture and coins and all that is worldly hoping to turn into a natural pearl, not the cultured pearl that we all are, for it isn’t so rare.

A hedonist when I want to indulge in the pleasures of all that life has to offer – Material pleasures, spiritual pleasures, simple pleasures – pleasure of every kind till I spoil myself crazy.

Should I choose between being a stoic and an epicurean? I want to be both.

A stoic when I want to be indifferent to the ways of world, unresponsive to the chaos, least observant to the craftiness of one person over another to yield to their self interest, unflustered by pleasure and pain, caring less about everything and everyone and advocate ‘stoic’ calm.

An Epicurean when I want to mollycoddle my personal self over gourmet food and aged wine and other such delicacies giving in to my gastronome pleasures unconcerned about the predicaments or poverty of people around me.

Should I choose between being an altruistic and an egoist? I want to be both.

An altruistic when I want to be compassionate about not just the people I care about but society in large and not just stop with the rambling of what could people do instead get it down to – What can I do?

An egoist when I want to take pride in things I do and not let people walk over things I care for and candidly love myself for who I am, albeit avoid being a narcissist.

Should I choose between being a Bohemian or a conformist? I want to be both.

A bohemian when I want to break the barrier of what people believe to be right and do what I believe to be right not just to be unconventional but to make a statement that I resolutely have come to believe.

A conformist when I want to avoid stirring controversy on subjects that even the likes of Thoreau and Da vinci who are uncompromising non-conformists not converse about.

Should I choose between being the real me or the ‘me’ that you like me to be? I want to be both.

The real ‘me’ when I want to be.

The’ me’ you like me to be, every time you are around.

Why choose between anything at all?

Is it possible to choose and be steadfast about what you have chosen?

Could you be an altruist and never be an egoist?

Could you be an ascetic and never be a hedonist?

Could you be a stoic and never be an epicurean?

Could you be a bohemian in everything and never be a conformist?

Could you always be ‘you’ and not the ‘you’ people want you to be?

So why choose?

Be what you want to be, when you want to be that,
not what you are expected to be!

The author is not suggesting that the reader adorn a different mask every time concealing the true self, the truth is, it is delusional to think that you can always be one and the same, I am merely suggesting that if you don’t have the pressure of being the one that you chose to be, you will NOT have to carry the one too many hideous masks with you all the time. Then, you will finally be – free and light – Within and out.

Ser uno mismo – amarte a ti mismo

Be yourself – love yourself.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

along you came

Dreams liberal
Life could be a living hell
Nothing is ever the same
In this world

But along you came
Swirling colors
Into my life
Sharing stories
Setting the vibe

Hour-long conversations
Lasts all yearlong
As great friends
We belong –
Life with you in it
Is a birdsong.

Troubled years
Were a storm
You were there
Keeping me calm.

As we grew
We set apart
For we had to
Play our part.

Growing distance
Didn’t matter
Nothing could ever
Stop our banter.

Unspoken words
You knew –
Unvoiced thoughts
You knew –
You know all
There is to know –
About me.
And I, about you.

Dreams liberal
Life is NOT a living hell
With you in my life
Nothing could ever change
In this fine world.

Friday, October 8, 2010

La vita e bella

The late autumn breeze
Just a window away;
Magic brews within
Hearing the birds of song -
Song sparrow,
The blue jays and red robin
If timely, a painted bunting too.

Bare trees
And all the fallen leaves
Reminds me
Life is but brief;

On the gramophone, I play
Pavarotti and Callas
Tebaldi and Carusso
Their music to the soul
Unearthly yet sensual,
Wipes away all loneliness
Lures me into a reverie
A trance so deep,
I get buried.

I wish to stay buried
A little longer
In this daze,
Fallen leaves
Chirping birds
Soothing music
Gentle breeze
This minute lived,
A moment seized,
I assure you
Life may be brief
Beyond doubt

Friday, October 1, 2010

Vita Brevis, Ars longa

With summer long gone
Fall is here to stay
Trees sway
Blowing breeze my way
I see them change colors
Green to yellow to golden to orange and red
At each stage I think
This is as beautiful it can get
Oh how wrong can I be?
I realize fall is its own ace.

I sit by the pool,
Reading Freedom by Franzen
With wind on my face
Chilling my nose and cheek bones
I love that no one is around and
Have the pool all to myself
It starts raining
In a split second
Clouds turn ashen grey
I notice the rain drops splattering
Suddenly the pool is too tempting
I look around one more time and
Love that no one is around
With the wind blowing and the rain pouring
I jump into the pool.

I float
With rain drops on my face
Humming the tune of magic doors
I float.

I open my eyes to see
The ashen clouds moving
Revealing the orangish golden tinted sky
That had a purple outline
Like a child’s quest to pour color carefully
Into the outline
Not wanting to ruin the painting,
The moving of clouds was like
A painting unveiled by the artist
As the last of the light shimmers and fades
With worldly ecstasy – I try to capture all of it
In my mind.
The twilight set in
Leaving no trace of the delicate painting,
I back away from staring
At the new shade of the sky – raven black
Obsessed with wanting more from the artist.

I come out of the water
Every cell in my body shivering
Every bone in my body aching
Knowing that given a chance
I would do it all over again,
For the simplest pleasures of life
Like witnessing a painted sky
Makes an ordinary day, extraordinary.
Like they say,
Veta brevis, ars longa.
Life is short, art is long.