Jun 27, 2007

Between life and death...

Two months since i wrote a post... and here I am talking about life again... here I am pondering over it, and here I am just puzzled by it... for the millionth number of time.
It is strange....
It is more than strange... it is something indescribable. No matter how it is, no matter what it gives you, no matter how much it tests you and no matter how draining it is, you still try your best to go on with it. You still try to LIVE... and keep hoping for better, and keep hoping for better.
But is there anything that is 'BETTER?' or rather, is there a better? Or is it just false hope. Every time, there is some colour on your canvas, inevitably it will rain. The picture will get smudged, or rubbed or washed off. Sometimes it may be an almost finished picture, sometimes just a sketch. But all your joy, all your anxiety gets washed away.
Will the picture ever be completed?

At times i wonder - Why is it ME always? At times i wonder if there is any use trying to live, trying to survive. Why does the storm have to hit me only, every time I rebuild my house? Why cant I be allowed to look at my complete picture? Why is the brush snatched out of my hand after just one stroke? Is it any use even attempting it now? Should I just let the canvas be empty now? I wonder, but I don't know.

I keep asking myself that. I keep looking at myself and my life, and i fall into the existential mode. The huge mountains, the sea, the vast existence and my own mortality, all stare at me. What is it that keeps me living? What is it that gives me this desire to keep hoping, to keep trying, to keep experiencing, inspite of knowing that it will all be wiped away, disappear from the canvas and be forgotten? There are cracks, but what is it that keeps me from breaking? Or even if i do shatter, what puts the pieces together trying to always achieve the wholeness again?
TWO MONTHS - of experiences, of life... I could never imagine that just 60 days could store so much. Just 60 days could change so much.
My mind now seems like the funky memory-saving thing Dumbledore had in the Harry Potter series (can never remember names!!!!)
It has so much going on inside, that I dont know what is happening. The two months have filled it to the brim... and its overflowing. And now... there has been an upheaval and everything is spilling out! Its coming back to me, at all times. Its uncontrolled, and its bombarding me. Sometimes it makes me happy, but sometimes it just drowns me. And I have no control over it. I cant stop this, I cant run away. And neither do i want to erase it or get rid of it cos its the best collection I ever had. Its a treasure that has to be cherished. But the treasure needs to be locked away at this moment, not stare me in my face!!

I wonder... how strange it is to have a birth and death on the same date.
You never know what to do - whether to rejoice the birth or mourn the death. I want to celebrate the birth and the existence of the life that was. I want to keep smiling because the life WAS there, and its existence itself is a matter of happiness. But when death occurs, the celebration turns black. It gives you a pain that is unmentionable and indescribable. It makes you mourn the fact that the life wont be anymore, that it wont jump in front of you, that it has just suddenly disappeared. You cant believe it, you cant face the death, but it stares at you, wide-eyed and solid!!

Its there, and its battling against you and your memories of the life that was. Its making the memories hurt you, but you still want to live with them. You still want to hold on to them. You want the life back, you still hope for it. But deep down you know that its dead. You know that all you have are the memories. And those you wont let go of, for anything!

You can face the death, but you can't not celebrate the fact that the life existed. You can shatter with the shock, but you will do so with a smile on your face. The life has given you that smile, and it will always be remembered for that, thanked for that, and loved for that!
IT WAS A SPECIAL LIFE.It was a life worth living!
And like Victor Frankl has said, "Man is ready and willing to should any suffering as soon as as long as he can see a meaning in it."