staying.cool

i'm blown.

i've just finished reading a book called 'little women'(that i have a paper on thursday notwithstanding !), and i'm still grappling with the number of emotions that have just literally flooded my conscious.

its a simple story of a family during the war, and the trials and tribulations of the four March girls. the beauty lies not in the story itself, but more for the way the emotions are just evoked on each incident. one can relate to each one of them; one almost lives in the life narrated.

there are morals, yes, and references to the many christian texts it is based on; but in the end it's the simple beauty of a life lived.
from the simple vanities, to the classic joy on accomplishments; and of course, the friendship and camaraderie that permeates through. without sounding any more sickeningly sugar-sweet, i will say thats the ultimate feeling: this is life.

there are many things i can come up with here, which i will go into once i understand them myself.

back to something i talked of earlier.

i examined the basic problem of confidence/self-confidence, but the real motivation for that post was different; one which i could not explain.
which i see now, on hindsight.

interestingly, i don't believe in limits. i actually subscribe to the belief that the human mind does not have any real limits. we impose them, by environment, and from within ourselves.

hence, there are few things that i actually say “i can't do that” to. the few that there are, i have tried repeatedly and finally come to the conclusion that these are things that i won't excel in.

herein is one of the points against the beliefs i have. there are some things that you are decent in; and there are some things you can be great in. discovering these, and making them the focus of life; would be the ideal.
which never happens.

so, i, apparently don't suffer from either of these.
so then what is it ?

it is a matter more of “self-worth”.
for now, i'll use this as an approximation to what i think the problem is.
i could be wrong.
very simply, one can say, i underestimate what i can do.

why ?
overconfidence is a fault i cannot afford to suffer from.
probably, its one none of us can afford to have.
now i remember why i didn't manage to explicate.
i didn't want to explicate, and face this.

i know that when i make an estimate of my ability, i usually end up overestimating what i have done. and what i can do. and so screw up anything further.
thus i err on the side of caution.
i underestimate.
and in my case, with my tendency to over-analyze, it compounds.
and hence, it leads to the point where the confidence level is so low one worries about whether anything is possible. and compounding means that one loses confidence in anything one does.
i'm scared enough to keep questioning whether what i do is any good. whether what i am doing now is really worth the effort i am expending on it.

you question. and question again. and analyze everything you've done. and measure it upto “standards”. and find it wanting.
and rue.
its a vicious circle.
and i've been running it for a while.

i know there maybe no real answer to it. the answer may only come from within, if it ever will.
i've got a sort of problem expounded, though now. or maybe its only one part of the problem.

maybe.

i'll hope.
and i'll hope for answers too.

maybe.

i wrote about rue.a post i was nearly made to regret.
but why regret ?

all my life, the spectre of what could have been has haunted me. chances “missed”. paths “not taken”.
but i rarely regret my choices. i rue the outcomes to which i come, yes, but not the decisions made. it is an important distinction.

all such decisions were made at certain times, with certain data, and ideas. and some hopes.
if i screw up the final outcome, it is not the fault of the decision: i fucked up.

besides this, every decision i’ve made has always had its good points, which have changed me. in ways i still cannot believe; and never want to lose.
this does not mean that my conscious does not constantly evaluate the decision, or the outcome thus far.. and reach points of improvement. its like a self-feedback mechanism.

however, there exists a line of thought that straddles the feedback without wanting to throw oneself in the gutter.
as a close friend once said: “the fine line between overconfidence and reality”.
i know how good i am.
i know how good i can be.
nope, still not right.
i know how good i have proven myself to be so far.
i know not the limits.
but then, one never does.

i, however, constantly doubt myself.
its the little things. always the little things.

due to certain performances, certain points where i’ve tested myself - and found myself lacking; maybe only by my standards (but probably not) - i’m not sure.
that’s the biggest problem.
i’m just not sure anymore.
self-doubt can keep you grounded in reality.
or, as for me, grounded well below it.

“people”. and by this i mean those close to me; and some otherwise, say they know how good i am.
i never agree. that i am any good in the first place.
i lack in many things. i’m not even sure how many.
i fear the fact that i’m not good enough. that i (and others) overestimate who i am.
the brain i have. my capabilities.
anything.
writing. academia. organization.
you name it.

and even if all of you decide to leave comments testifying to any of these, it won’t work.
it never does.
criticism ? eagerly looked for.
and then follows intense self-scrutiny within the mind. to levels you won’t believe. it can last weeks.

its like i want praise. but i don’t want it either.

i know that none of us ever know our own limits. or can ever even hope to get an accurate idea of how good/bad we are. or even how we affect others. for good or bad.
i’m not even sure where i stand. sometimes, its like i’m at the top of the world. then i remember all that i’ve done, how i’ve mucked up…
…and slide to the bottom of the grave beneath the shithole.

i can go for convincing myself as to my worth. and maybe scale further heights.
but i’m not sure if i can even climb.
i could be completely wrong about it all.

“you need to know where you are, to be able to see where you can go.”
even here, other than writing cliches (like above), and generally whining about unnecessary crap, i’ve done nothing.

maybe i never have.

bah.

over the last few posts, maybe to a response of utter boredom, i've kept wondering about the futility of it all.
of the way i am constantly besetting myself with imagined problems.

wallowing in self pity was never the idea though. the idea was to allow myself to understand the absolute futility of my own thinking.

i've been told by many: 'forget it.' 'can't you just leave it alone ?' 'stop trying to do this alone, its not possible.'
and i kept saying: 'i must.' 'someone must. that someone is me.' 'it is what i am meant to do.'

then 'something' happened.

let it suffice to say that it happened. the details are unimportant. i was called on to help. and when i was figuring out what could possibly be done, an answer i came up with was what all these people were saying to me.
then i realized.

i'm not ready to let go.
there are ideas, feelings within me i'm not letting go of. and they act as additional lens to my 'vision'. which just gets more and more warped as they accumulate.
leading to posts like these.

but i can't let go.
i've tried. i've tried to talk about it. it never comes out directly, always metaphors & half-statements. i've tried to make my mind understand that its all bound to happen. it had to. that one cannot remained tied up in these transient(?) things. that sometimes the 'alone'-ness is bound to be felt just a little more…

but i'm not tied up.
i'm half-blind, and running around in a maze of mirrors with no exit. and i can't scream for help. no-one's here, and i'm deaf & dumb anyway.

there is always an exit.
the entrance.

when you figure out how you got in here, you know how to get out.
do i want to?

do i really want to get out ?

i'm not sure.
my mind seems to want to remain lost in a place where there's no today, tomorrow or forever.

the reason ?
getting out might mean i might be losing something. a fruit to the struggles so far.
an eventual answer.

there has to be one right ?
i might, just might, be on a path to a new realization.
do i want it ?
do i even know what i'm seeking the answer to ?
is there even an end ? or do i 'exit game' without finishing it ?

a chess game against oneself.
and its my move.

checkmate ?

one keeps wondering about how life could have been under different circumstances. one never realizes that these different circumstances occur every minute.

every minute you live, you find another way of thinking. the conditions under which your life is being lived is changed every second. you don't realize it, you call it the passage of time.

does time, as a concept, really have to exist for us ? it is one of those things that you just cannot live without, simply because everyone accepts it. and lives by it. there might never be an alternate concept for time, for the simple reason that changing our standards is not convention. and changing this one is simply not possible. we've got it integrated into our very soul.

its the same with life. you live in a warp with some beliefs that cannot be changed. where you cannot accept that alternates are possible, or might even exist. change is universal, but you have to recognize change to change; and a large majority of us don't.

questioning the self is something i have come to accept as part of me. i never even consider simply accepting what i know and continuing on my path. why ? even the process of accepting makes me wonder why i have to accept this paradigm and live; and no other.

thinking on it further, what do i know ?
not a lot; and certainly not enough to understand.

i know my mind is searching for something, i am not sure if this is something it has lost, or something it has realized it requires now. or even, if this is a way for it to entertain itself. i am not even sure about what it is, that it is searching for. i don't know why i am voicing this here, and hoping to understand it. it feels like something is missing within, but i don't know.

precis: i just don't know.

there was a stage when i wondered what the use of writing here was. whether people could ever understand what i am trying to say. how that makes the slightest difference to what i am doing now. what my mind is hoping to find in a maze of its own creation.

now i don't know what this “catharsis” is giving me.
giving it up seems alien. going on feels surreal.

it could be that i am thinking too much as usual. it could be i am not meant to think like this now.
it could be that i am.

whatever it is, it is happening now; and there's not a single fucking thing i can do to prevent it.

getting lost is one thing. not understanding whether you are lost, or merely exploring is quite distinctly another. not being able to even follow what the fuck is going on, is something i cannot compare to any of these others.

when i read what i have written so far, somewhere along the way, the journey changed from a mind rattling away; into one of introspection. and from that introspection; exploration outward.

i'm pretty sure my “answers” are to be found similarly.

i wonder when.

i am in a place of little meaning now.

my innermost self is apparently dead. the “questions” that were getting “answered” a few weeks ago have suddenly stopped coming. a query arises, and is struck down by the mind with that indefinable attitude where nothing seems to matter.

something is missing within me.
i know not what.

i feel i am simply going through the motions. like life is a chore to be finished. that it would be so much easier if i could simply lie back and not do anything. that nothing is worth it.
i keep feeling that doing what i am is no use. that anything right now is being done because it has to. that all that i envisioned i would accomplish was crap. sure, i'll try to do it.. but for what ? in less than a decade after, nothing of what i say here would actually matter.

motivation. spirit. inner peace.
they all seem to be missing.
and don't seem to be within me. or without.

there is an indefinable feeling of lackadaisicalness when it comes to life. all that purpose that was driving me, all those permutations which used to make me think don't seem to have any use. they've all disappeared as well. life is a journey that has to be made, and is hence made. not to explore, not to change, not to revel in the beauty of the world we are in.

i've asked it all before : what really does matter ? does it all really matter ?
the difference is that now i ask: who the fuck cares ?

again, it seems that i crave to write all this down, in the hope that all these people who read me might be sympathetic; might give me some hope. that's not why i'm writing this. that is pathetic, and i don't want to realize that as well.

don't.
don't do that.
don't try and give me that hope that everything is worth it. that's not true, and it only means that i feel good; you feel good.

feeling good is no fucking use.

nothing makes a bloody difference.

why am i still writing this ? do i think that giving thoughts to people changes them somehow ? or do i think this helps me “analyze” the meaning of life, the universe and everything ? how do i know that they even have meaning ? how do i know that that meaning has any meaning for me ? why am i asking questions to which no-one can give answers to ?

why do i keep falling into this morass of frustration where i need to query the meaning of existence ?

must i?

no point. there's just no fucking point.

the unspoken beauties that we take for granted, are the ones we miss the most.

going for random walks, and somehow meeting the one person you need the most.
realizing at a point, in the company of friends, that this is the moment that should last forever.
looking around you in the stillness of the night, and feeling the world and its connection to you.
the sudden appearance of moonlight to show you that ethereal nocturnal beauty.

ever sat and observed a clear night sky ? the gigantism of creation, the billions of stars that appear when you focus on any one part of the night, the panaroma of the night.. and the moon.

the moon has always been special to me. i still remember the way it looked when i wondered for the first time whether a man and a rabbit where actually living on it. when i realized why it always seems to follow me. when i realized that its light made beauty beyond compare possible.

regardless of all the science and geography i've studied, the moon remains as enamouring to me as the first time i glimpsed it from my bedside window. i remember “playing” with the rays that fell on my bed, and observing the weird shapes the shadows took. until my mother decided enough was enough, and held me close till i went to sleep.

nevertheless, since then, every night, observing the moon and the way the moonlight “touches” the earth, has been a source of peace for me. even today, when the heart is troubled, a 10 minute walk in the moonlight never fails to calm me, and show me solutions i was not able to fathom.

the pure serenity of the moonlight in a field of grass, with yourself sitting in the middle, is the closest i have come to understanding nirvana, and the emotions; or lack of them, that this sort of “enlightenment” means.

walking along the seashore, with the waves lapping at your feet, nothing other than the quietness of the sea that surrounds you and envelopes you in itself. and the moon: a faraway white beacon shining with an unreal glow, that bathes the ocean in an unworldly gossamer mantle…

here, in a stone jungle, the moon appears rarely in the skies above. its generally cloudy, or else there is no moon.

i need to find that inner peace, within myself. the mind ranges across the distances, the soul warps itself in searching for answers and explanations.
and they never come.

the source of all inspiration remains away.

and i wait.

for her.