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I was running. I was mad, mad with the happiness, mad with the feeling so elevating that through my run, my soul was urging to launch into a flight to soar into the heavens, to the presence of my Lord!
I was panting. I was not tired, not tired because of the happiness, not tired of the ways of the world anymore, as I ceased to care about that anymore.
I was crying. I was confident, confident because of the happiness, confident that these are the only tears I will ever cry now, as I had ceased to observe pain and depression.
I was smiling. I was enlightened, enlightened because of the happiness, enlightened enough to understand that this would be my last run ever.
I was living. I was breathing, breathing with happiness, breathing my last breath ever.
A couple of my friends used to this in college. They would hear out a song (of Opeth), get a print of the lyrics, and then discuss what the lyrics meant to them with that music. And surprisingly, they invariably had vastly distinct mental pictures, relating to each one’s experiences, assumptions in general (about life and stuff), beliefs etc. It was so enlightening to know that the same piece of music could mean so many different things to different people.
Another friend of mine noted while trying covers of the same band, that if you just change one string in the strum pattern and even manipulate the strum pattern just a twitch, you will land up on another song from the same band. That made me realize how much the personality of each individual in the band matters in making music, and further, how much consistency the soul of the band holds.
It made this click in my mind: “Every band is just one song, and its various songs, just episodes of the larger picture!”
I sometimes think, is composing good music a matter of a philosophical mind, or is just the way i look at music, and judge as to which is better and which not?
I guess it eventually is a matter of perception afterall, and the bands I look up to definitely tickle my thought sensation and musical ears in the way I would love music to.
But the I go on to think, what is talent actually, and who can and cannot become a composer of such music. I have an ear and an understanding for a particular kind of music, so shouldn’t it certify that if I may try getting my hands dirty in this, I will surely be able to justify my time somehow?
Further, there is that saying – ” a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type a given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare.” So, it might just be a matter of jumping into the swimming pool perhaps, and you will end up learning how to swim, if you are focussed on learning it, that is.
I have got my hands dirty in so many things, and have always ended up creating something, sometimes just a learning for myself, and at other times, things that would somehow matter to others. I may as well try my hands at this then!
Waiting for the golden moment when I would.
Dear wretched philosophical thought,
I call you philosophical because you make me think beyond the visible, the tangible, and make me name yourself so.
I call you wretched, as you make me feel like a guitar string! I always try to come back to my harmonious self, my eternally stagnant self. But you, you just can’t leave me with my own peace. You have to, it seems, always give me that feather touch that will make me wring again, to wriggle and to shake off some more dust. You want to save me from rusting, I may assume. However, the solace with the rust is not that bad. For, the shinier I get, the more cleansed and illuminant and full of harmonious vibration I get, the more strumming hands I would attract. It is just as if you make me visible to the cloud of philosophy existant in the universe, which strings up with you to create these hands! Further, the more I get strummed, the more I crave for it, as it arouses my intent to bring in that little change in the symphony of the universe, with my sweet yet deep sound.
I like the depth of my sound, and it is addicting I must confess. But more importantly, I feel a strange sense of dual belonging!
For once, I belong to that part of the universe that is philosophicially stagnant, anad living the eternal life, peaceful in themselves, but always craving for a vent for their restless minds. And then, I even belong to that part of the universe that builds and taps into the underlying wisdom of things, the thoughts defining thought itself, and be a dynamic and active part of the orchestra of the sound of the universe.
However, I must also admit that in the stagnant universe, rust comes to a supposed rescue as it helps one rest in the given stagnation, but then it also makes you weak and vulnerable. For, once if you enter into the other part of the universe, the one where everyone is vibrating with their respective frequencies and offering their unique depth to the universe, you would no longer feel unbreakable and everlasting. One strong emotional strum would snap you from your very existence, making you being declared useless, making you insane. You would then forever be muted, with your uniqueness soon to be replaced to maintain the perfect order.
This makes me realize your eternal need in my consciousness as well. And hence, I call you dear.
I would continue to be your voice, as you continue to be my thought inspiration, helping me always to communicate with the other part of the universe and stamp my undying contribution.
With warmest of reagrds
Your tangible self.
