853 am

A dark cloud seems settled over me. A moment ago I accepted it, who does not enjoy the darkness in monsoon. I let myself go now. I let you be, little one I seem to have tormented. Oh what a brave man who lives his life without purpose. Anyone can live with purpose. It is easy. Purpose seems to be a gift to some? Well, it is until we lose it. Like the wisdom of a child. Then we must relearn. Paradise lost. Why shall I convince myself that movement is the only way to reach a goal? Who has told you this? Can simply being not take you back to a time even you do not recall? The time before time began, when these were just blurs. What does a child feel and when does he stop? What does a happy child feel and were you one? Were you a happy child with a happy childhood? Instinct says no. How do you reconcile then?

Expression feels dead. What if I keep this bottled up, the longer I keep it the better it ages. I wonder if going to therapy would waste this fuel, and shall I save it for something like music? What a strange thought- whether I should hold onto my suffering so I gain greater meaning. The moment it feels someone will read this, everything changes. Suddenly an imposter comes in place, every word is now doubtful. Is this true? Perhaps an artist’s gift lies in being certain of his expression, unmarred by judgement or self-consciousness. Such a subtle shift. It seems the identifies are different, the one outside and one within, else why would the one within be urged by the one without to alter? If it were the same person speaking, be it to a page or to thousands, what difference does an audience make?

Where is this expression? Is this not it too? It feels the most I have thought, to have caught such a subtle moment. Wow.

Silence seems to be of two kinds, one where one does not know what to say and the other when all has been said. I seem to confuse one with another. To pursue silence so I can tell myself all has been said, but it hasn’t. There is no doubt. There is so much more to be said, to be done? To be done I do not know, but said I do know. Why does not saying count as doing? They are the same thing, for thought leads to action, be it of expression or impression. Is it so that expression is saying and impression is doing, for actions leave impressions. Actions speak louder than words they say, but they speak nonetheless. So what difference is there between an action and a word, if they are not only two paths one may choose to express. I am a lazy boy, thus I choose words? No, well, I enjoy my laziness. But it is not lazy to speak. It is to say that it is lazy to use a wheelchair, but the person is unable to walk. What does it matter to you if I reach my goal by a wheelchair or by my own feet? Am I not reaching? Thus, dear friends, put down by your own words, that judge your means, that judge how you get to a point, fret not. Keep heart, for you are noble in mere effort. It is effort that counts, why?

Because effort is how we make our presence known in the world. Effort is the present moment. Achievements are either of the past or of the future. They have the temporary power to hold the present, but tell me who shall remember those achievements you once fretted over? Mine are forgotten, in these troubled times, the certificates, the people who gave them to me, are all questioned. At most, they hold value in telling me this

‘I did it before, I can do it now, I can put in effort.’ So I do not recommend tossing these certificates aside either. But know that the certificate is of effort not of achievement. Effort matters, and sometimes just breathing can be a noble effort. Do not lose heart.

For even if it is a dismal life, even if everything contradicts and contrasts, if you feel your stars led you astray, know that at least it is yours. This is my life. This is who I am. How will I know this without expression, without climbing onto the rooftops and shouting it to the world that ‘I am here, I am alive, I am trying!’. For the world must know, else this is all in your head. You fear saying the wrong things, but we must ask how often have the right things which appeared to be right led us right into trouble? To the present, there is only the thing. To the self-conscious, there is this thing as an illusion. It will drive you mad if you seek the right things to say. It may also lead to that silence, which is convinced, that speaks not not because it has said everything and rests in its own satisfaction, but because it is afraid to speak.

Are you afraid to speak? Wipe out all evil, then this fear shall leave you. Then mistakes will seem forgivable. Then you shall be humble and admit to your faults. You shall be kind even in your criticism. For people are hurt not by their mistakes but by how these mistakes are interpreted. Interpret them gently, so that others may do so too. People only need an example, and you can be one. To yourself. Dark times, they are only a test. They test whether you shall give in to evil ways, but herein lies the heroic choice. It lies in faith that the world is not lost, because I create it. Even if it be a bad world, I have the power to transform it. For this, leave the fear of death on the doorstep of the universe. Consider, is there much else to live for if your life is constrained by death. By fear of judgement too, as this death is not meant of the body, but of the soul. It is death for an artist to express and be rejected only if that rejection is taken to heart.

Though, this death also helps the heroic. This death, much like our own circles of hell, can simply mean cleansing. So even if you shall die, you will be cleansed of all that has killed you. Eventually, you will get there. That is the promise, that you will get there, and it is a promise I do not break.