Beckoning me home

Far from the madding crowd I will go.

Away from the whispers of not being enough.

Away from the life I had never wanted in the first place
 chaotic, hectic and competitive.

To a place where peace reigns supreme.
Where people are merry.

Where roses bloom.
Where creepers and vines grow over buildings.

Where there’s freshness in the air
 even if the spring has long gone.

Where nobody thinks I’m lonely or alone ,
when I ‘m taking a walk by myself.
Where taking a walk outside is more than a walk, 
a solitary pleasure.

Where idyllic lands roll by 
when I’m out and about on my bicycle.

Where I can sit outside for hours 
 watching the moon shine with all its glory,
 stars twinkling as if they have a mischievous agenda.

Where the sweet wind billowing my clothes
 is an everyday occurrence.

Where smiling costs nothing at all 
just moving your face muscles in gay abandon.

Ah, I have found that place 
and it’s calling out to me,
ready to wash me in its warm embrace.

It’s good old home.

Of matters of life and death

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”
— David Foster Wallace

I truly second what Wallace says here. Unless you are in their shoes you would never know how they feel and what caused them to go over the edge and just give up living. Who gets to decide when its enough?And how?

It’s not easy trying to kill yourself (not that I have ever tried it myself), not easy thinking about it or living with it. And when you do finally arrive at a conclusion, whether to live or let it go, then also the issue is not resolved. Far from it. It’s really odd, you don’t want to live but you don’t want to take your own life also. Where exactly does that leave you? Nowhere? Hanging in the middle? Or miraculous sweet resolution? Believe it or not, NOBODY has all the answers and nobody can do it for you. You have to figure it out for yourself.

Of Gates of Heaven and Angels

The song “Streets of Philadelphia” by Bruce Springsteen won the Academy Award for Best Original Song (for Philadelphia of course), and four Grammys. But that’s not why its one my favourites. For me the song is inextricably linked with Philadelphia (the movie) and the compelling story it told. At the time I had thought that the song had no independent existence without the movie because I felt that the strong feelings it conjured up in me had everything to do with the movie and not the song itself (I was young and naive). But with time I understood the bigger picture (or at least I think I have) and the song is powerful as a standalone piece – the lyrics poetry and the theme universal.

There’s something healing about the song, something hopeful and at the same time there is an element of pathos in it, bleakness descends upon you, leaving you vulnerable and raw, yet in the end you emerge somehow stronger. These are the kind of sentences you get from my feeble pen (and might I add limited vocabulary) when I try to explain the profound and far reaching impact music has on me (and everyone else).