Why not let go Why not let soar Why not let scatter and shatter if need beContinue reading “Why Fear?”
Live in the present. Live in the present..
The trending phrase, alongside Be Yourself and Follow Your Heart. What do these mean anyway? Abstract words strung together to give you the satisfaction of owning an identity that is as unique as a drop of water in the sea or another pebble on the shore. The pebbles that come together to make the land and the drops that form the masses that separate, dissolve, that encompasses the reality of all that cease to exist with green pastures playing on the other side; that draw us in with excitement and drive us away in exasperation, when the colours fade and turn grey overnight.
I do live in the present, I do follow my heart, I am myself. Once I am all that I am supposed to be, what next? When the goal is reached, what then?
I laugh easily, talk pleasantly, make merry with all who surround me and make no efforts to reach out over to the past to where old bonds lie; when new branches shield me from the maze of roots beneath me, am I to content myself with the knowledge that I am happy in the present, or bemoan this fickle heart of mine that forgets in seconds all it held close and fails to remember fond matters of old? I live in the present.. Does that make me self centred?
I follow my heart. I fell in love with one and then with another, and each time it felt right and resonated with the sure leaps of my heart leading me on a path contrived of red roses and bliss; and as each came down with surmounting misery, I chose to flee into the warm welcoming arms of solitude. I followed my heart, followed its bloody trail of fluttering whims and fancies, the short leaps of faith and the chasms of chance encounters, revelling in ecstatic escapism. Yes I followed my heart.. But what if I churned others’ in the process?
I am myself. Who else can I be? The one that delves into deep spirituality and calls oneself an agnostic, the one that chides others for superficiality and checks the mirror for blemishes, the one who looks down upon blind beliefs and chooses to walk on criss cross edges of the patterned tile floors for good luck, who plays grammar Nazi and hopes to be forgiven for mediocrity in another tongue.
I am who I am, we are all who truly are; the hopeless lists of contradictions compiled into human form, strutting about in self denial and pretending to be something we are not – capable of change. Is not the ability to change another factor keyed into our existence? The ability to hold fast to beliefs or to adapt like a chameleon, is that not engraved into our spirits?
So if I do live in the present, if I do follow my heart and I do proclaim to be myself, what does that make me? The all encompassing ideal of the universe or another misled soul lost in a world of definitions for rightful living?