The art of migration

Hello!

This is a guest post written by a friend.

I’m an intellectual bullshitter. And this blog entry is something that struck me as I was questioning the circumstances which lead to circumstances as they are perceived.

What is migration? According to the Oxford dictionary, it refers to the seasonal movement of animals and birds from one region to another.

I think that humans also function similarly. We migrate seasonally. All depending on the circumstances we are in.  The only difference between the two types of migration is that we, humans, have some amount of say in the choices which lead to a certain situation.

We migrate because like birds, we need the warmth we all deeply crave.But more importantly, it is essential for our survival. The world we live in and breathe in is constantly filled with pollutants which force us to sustain on empty and forced emotions. A life example would be of the flamingoes being forced to eat krill which has been contaminated by industrial waste. The flamingoes loose all the lovely pink on their bodies. Unfortunately, they do not have any say in any of this.

But we do.

So we fly miles and across oceans to find a place which wraps us in a sense of comfort and pleasure. We find our hearts. That’s the scary part. Sometimes we don’t fly even though flying away is the one thing we desperately need. It takes courage to do so. But it is the one thing which will help us find what makes us truly happy. The sometimes toxic environment we are forced to endure often taints the essence of the soul. You feel as though you’ve lost what defined you.

So fly to your heart. Fly to the place which makes you feel like you again. Yes, the landing may be rough. It may not be easy. And the worst part is that you know that you have to return to the chasm of reality. But the simplicity and intensity of the moments of your stay will make it worthwhile. And you will find yourself again. Nothing lasts forever. Not even in one’s memory. For change is the only constant in life.

Migration may be difficult but it is as necessary as breathing. Be selfish, dear birds.

And fly for your survival and also purely for you own joy and benefit.

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Why being happy (yes, HAPPY) feels like a burden.

Days like this are overwhelming: I’m at home and there is no other place that I would rather be because I absolutely love my family! I love being at home! I’M SO HAPPY!

And having said that, I also feel annoyed because you know how you sometimes think that talking about your problems is just going to burden the people around you? I sometimes feel that being happy and my talking about it is going to burden the people around me. By that I mean, people who can’t relate to this happiness.Well, I also ask myself why that’s such a big problem because really, happiness sometimes seems less important than being upset and sad. Why is that?

Why do I feel like being in pain somehow has such a meaningful and important space in our lives and it’s seldom replaced with happiness. When growing up, I have often craved for something horrible to happen to me, just so I can talk about it, just so I can dress myself up as a matyr and proudly hold it up to the world; “See I’ve felt pain too, I’ve been hit and broken by life! I can relate to you. We are so similar!!!” 

It’s because so many times I have found myself feeling left out when there are deep conversations about suffering and tremendous pain. Happiness felt like a burden, something I was guilty of, something I didnt want. I have tried to create scars where there was no need for them. I love watching movies about drug abuse, depression, hate, anger, and the like. I love writing about them because I want to learn/know what it feels like. I’ve heard people write about their feelings, I like to write about things I wish to feel. If not a wish to feel them, then at least to understand them.

I can’t taste happiness without a slight frown on my face. And on a day like this when my small little family of four, is siting in the garden and laughing through the beautiful winter sun that falls on us I try to appreciate it more. Because I don’t want my happiness to be a burden, I dont want my near-perfect childhood to be a burden, I don’t want my beautiful parents to be burden, I don’t want my darling sister to be burden.

No.

But sometimes they are.
(I’m sorry if this a slightly rantish post and seems to go in weird directions. I’m writing this weird and unedited post because it has been bothering me for a while now. I’m sorry if it doesn’t make much sense, there was so much in my head that it is highly unlikely that this small scattered excerpt makes any sense in itself.)

Wait.

I patiently wait for things to make sense.

I patiently wait for things to make sense.
I patiently wait for things to make sense.
I patiently wait for things to make sense.
I patiently wait for things to make sense.
I patiently wait for things to make sense.
I patiently wait for things to make sense.
I patiently wait for things to make sense.
I …. wait……..

HUMANITY

I know.

I don’t.

The running,

The madness.

Where are you going?

In death,

We are alive.

Singing false love

Over the sky.

What hypocrisy!

We drown

Ourselves in

Shame.

Shameless!

Bathe yourself dry.

Would you?

Want to know?

Why?

 

Your life,

A lie.

So, my friend recently blogged this and I find it absolutely beautiful !!!

My Overflowing Thoughts

Creases on her forehead

lips curled upward

a certain annoyance on her face

or maybe impatience?

beauty personified


This is literally just random words which came to me when I was thinking about a certain someone.

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The first time I met the love of my life.

As I open the pages of this beauty, I smile so wide because I am finally reunited with my soulmate.

How deeply can one fall in love with a book ? I would have never known if my eyes wouldn’t have noticed those words seducing me at that small bookshop at the airport. It was sweet passionate love at first sight, when I read aloud the title, ‘Why be happy when you could be normal?’.

I flirtatiously opened it up and began reading. The next thing I know, I was reading the last line of the first chapter, ‘There is no one there’.

I had to have it. I had to have this sensuous yet sensitive collection of words for myself. I rummaged through my purse and took out the change. I rushed to the counter and when the cashier handed me the receipt, I uninterestedly stuffed into my pocket and rushed out of the store. I quickly made my way to where my friends were sitting and seated myself beside them and opened it up again. Those words were batting their long eyelashes at me. I sighed heavily and dived into those lustrous letters. I didn’t need to be careful. I was in love.

This book by Jeanette Winterson is and will be my most favorite book ever and I’ll be dammed if that is not the case. Despite my love for this book, I hesitate when I suggest it to someone. I hesitate because I understand that my love for it is deeply rooted with the circumstances it met me in. I was a devastated girl in distress and confusion about love and everything that comes with it: gender identity, sexual orientation,…..and the rest. I was a slight mess that day at the airport. And it is not an exaggeration when I say, that this book was my crutch. I can’t say that it helped eradicate that confusion or all my worries were gone because that’s not true. But it is true, that this book gave me the courage to fight through and survive all the pain that came with loving a girl for the first time.

On 6th October, 2014 I met my soulmate.

And for some reasons we were apart for the last two years but I was recently reunited with it. So, this post is a result of my overflowing happiness on being able to drown myself in those words once again.

I promise to write a more thorough blog post about this book sometime in the future. But for now, I just want to memorize every single word of it !!

Alone.

Existence is such a paradoxical thing. We exist in our heads and yet we don’t in the eyes of so many. We are almost always surrounded by at least one living, breathing being and yet we are lonely. What does it feel like to be alone, really?

I look around and I see people who care, people who want to share. And then I feel myself thinking and I find myself wallowing itself in silence and pity, crying for someone to hear it, to bear it. What drama, really. I think I have friends but many times I find myself craving loneliness and space. Many times I am just a word away from breaking the silence between someone and me but I choose to stay alone in my thoughts and say nothing. I say nothing. I don’t tell them how beautiful they are, how glad I am to have met them. I just say nothing. It’s easier on the surface but if you look at my insides you’ll see acid marks on my flesh, for those unsaid words erode your skin till you feel so empty that you really have nothing to say. Nothing.

A friend recently told me that my ‘happy’ posts are the best and that I should write them more often. I wish I could say yes. I wish I could but happiness is something we crave, something we want and writing too much about it or pushing it out there loses its magic. But pain, loneliness, and sadness are feelings that need the ordinary language. They can never really be eradicated because their constant poking and pulling is what has created, the illusory but beautiful feeling of happiness.

So yes, I am alone and despite what I say, I sometimes want it.

MAKE ME MYSELF.

 

Make me myself

There has been a mistake

I was meant to be someone

But was born as

Someone else

If you ask me how I know,

I can’t exactly explain

Because you will

Never really know

It’s in here, inside,

All the confusion

Is crystal clear in me

I know, trust me.

I just need you let me be

Not much is it,

To ask?

To let me be?

Don’t  make my difference

A joke and a weakness

I respect who you are

Even if who you are is the norm(al)

I respect you.

I think I do.

And I just wish you

Would do the same

Won’t you?

We are all children

Of the same night.

Of the same day.