Digging for Meaning

i am the little air particles jostling, fighting to be breathed in by you. breathe in, silence every cell of my body taught with anticipation. darkness and questions groping for the past to bludgeon open the future. breathe out, sight of your smile bellows me upwards in bliss. i dance and i sing and i land gently on your skin. caressed flooded with love we are blind to time finding eternity of bliss in a moment. for a moment to dissolve into another for the life on a roll forever i am the little air particles.

"Money can't buy happiness... But somehow its more comfortable to cry in a BMW than smile on a bicycle".. This is an SMS forward I got from a friend. Somehow its all very ugly. This importance of 'comfort'. Why is comfort so important to people? It completely escapes me. Comfort should be optional, and life should be primary. It absolutely pains me to see people giving up brilliant opportunities, ignoring sublime beauty around to explore, just to continue floating in their continuum of comfort. I can't stand people who would shy away from adventure, natural beauty for the sake of comfort. what kind of life do you see for yourself, if the objective of it becomes to lead a comfortable life? These people wouldn't even chase better comfort if the chase is uncomfortable. :P reducing life to mere existence when you can do more. what would these folks do in time of depression, of hardship, of scarcities. all of a sudden, your purpose of being stripped away from ...

While walking over the overbridge over the train tracks, I saw the rail tracks glistening with the light of yellow signal. The yellow long lines dividing the dark into equal twos, textured and raw, with the smell of metal and sweat of urban nation. The east side dark ended with jagged edges of station roof - the undulating continuity of shades of gray and grime. the west side dark went on only until the pillar standing in between me and it. Then a bird came and sat over the signal. Almost in dark. The light from signal of no consequence to it (apart from possible heat of the metal on its feet). Still its black eyes managed to shine a dark shine against its black body. I so wanted to capture the moment into a photograph framed thus - the focus on the bird pirched on signal. though the tracks visible just as well, and so is the dark. essentially, to capture the whole experience of being there, but I couldn't do it. U have to have a central focus in a pic to give meaning to it. Thats ...

When I was much younger, I would sit plumb in front of TV for hours on end. I used to do my homework, sheepishly looking towards TV in skew or hooded eyes, trying to fool parents in believing me that i was indeed studying, and i just 'needed' to 'listen' to TV. Looking back now, i feel that might be the reason behind my habitual forward tilted low gaze. Whenever i realised my posture, i would correct it with upward tilt of my head. A few days back, I realised something beautiful. Upon that habitual realisation and subsequent jerk of my face upwards, I noticed the difference between the world that one sees. When one looks with low eyes the object of ur gaze is at the top half of your vision. The thought is restricted with the 'purpose' of gaze. Besides the colors that usually pervade for this pose are dark and mundane - concrete, road, furniture, people.... There's a sense of being constrained. No escape from the trivial, the mundane. The sea of mediocrity ...