here am i !

I am here. Neither exhausted nor exhilarated, I feel that I have arrived. Is this the ‘here’ that I had pursued as ‘there’ in my yesteryears or is there another ‘there’ lurking beyond horizons,  teasing to promise another ‘eureka’? Having come here, I pause.

The limbs have not tired, and my clocks have not stopped, yet I pause, neither to retrospect nor to plan. I pause because I am here, trying to extend the life of every second. Extending and constricting time is an illusion, as big or as small as one believes in one’s life.

Hope is the single ingredient to make the magic formula that extends time, just as how fear can reduce it. The momentary awareness of the moment’s magnitude or minimalism is still a projection of intellect.  Yet masters of all centuries, and their mimics in modern commercial consumerism, have all emphasized on living the moment. Have I (or for that matter you) have ever been unable to live any moment? Moments make life. If to live correctly is the only way of living, what happens to the moments that change the definitions of right and wrong?

What do moments comprise of? Happiness and sadness the two prime pillars of emotions that define and describe our state of mind have long cast a shadow long enough to hide the other more prevalent state of mind- bluntness. Hope and fear, shame and anger however come up as chosen words  for the intellect to describe itself. But moments can be empty too, like what I feel now. This is not the dispassionate drudgery of committed existence extolled in scriptures. This is the moment of truth, which does not need to be happy or sad. It is breath in its purest form, unconditioned, uninhibited, untrained and indifferent. Having come here, I pause again. A pause is an illness, as much as a stopping is death. I pause, thinking I can stop here. Since there is no stopping allowed in living, I pause pretending that I do not have to take another weary step.

I do not wish nor care to audit my life now. I refuse to make plans either. I just want to be here and watch clocks tick, and humans tick. I just want to watch the invisible flutter of the cloud. I want to watch and catch the sun’s ray as it hits a water drop. I want to be as I have never been all along. And, as is obvious, I still ‘want’.

Though wishes and wants are effortless, dreams are inexpensive and words that frame them spontaneous, the awareness of the horizon, albeit in the farthest corner of my vision,  means that I have to go on. Knowing not where or even how, assuming that all the stuff that my brain has packed would suffice to continue the journey, I know that my maps are not clear anymore. My next step is into the unknown, yet my foot lifts as it has always been doing, to place itself on what it and ‘that’ perceive as safe landing.

I am here, but is it the same spot that I was some five hundred words ago?