Cab-ride story

The night is young and I’m in a cab-ride back Home from the port. The driver has lost his son and wants to talk about it. Sixteen years old. Motorbike crash. To lose a child.. A pain unknown to me yet seeing it around me makes me realise what an inhumane loss this must be. It’s been 10 years since his death but to his father, it seems like it was a second ago.

 

“Perhaps he learnt in those few 16 years of his, SomeThing which we (the rest of us) are still trying to figure out” I said.

I can actually feel his worry. Guilt is seeping through him.

“What could I have done as a parent to prevent this?

Why did I get him a motorbike? 

Why did this happen?”

The echo of the always present WHY footprint skyline..

home view

It occurs to me that..

everything has got a hidden moral.

You just need to look hard to find it.

Things happen for a reason. The chaos theory exists. We do affect one another in the smallest yet largest impact ways.. everything IS indeed connected and so, if something happens, from the smallest to the biggest thing, chance, change, accidental, coincidental, consequential.. Drop all cloaks and mechanisms.. and see it for what it is.

Time passes, scars don’t heal, you’re disappointed with yourself because you haven’t picked up sooner. You want it to pass. It’s taking to long.. What am I missing here..?

If the mind or soul is in a loop then.. possibly.. the moral has yet not been derived.

Why not think.. of how this changes me? and if everything has its purpose and a life can be the catalyst for a person or a relationship to be changed, trigger-ed, affected, and the effect being a certain response to be triggered. An entire process begins, uprooting, rerooting, derooting carefully.. between the grass, searching where – at which point – has he/she/me/you – have done something worthy of such a punishment. Such is pain. It becomes the ignition of our Catharsis Process.

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End of session.

It helped.

No thank yious. how dare i even voice these theories of mine, to a man that is suffering subjective pain about an intense situation which i can only relate to. how dare i interfere with someone’s, anyone’s, journey? what can i do other than voice words and listen with care?

Remembrance of the time I used to do this.

A Time back in time I used to think this was it. I had found my purpose in life. I had a surreal talent bumping into the most random of situations and people opening up to me.

There has to be a clue around here.. I had found that I can connect all skills, like unconditional comfort, understanding, a bent perspective on my part.

Finally someone is willing to see things “your way” and to listen to your side of the story. Stranger or friend, if this person is there, the right time and moment, you might find yourself surprised with how much comfort you can find in a perfect stranger, in a passing moment, in a city where you probably wont see each-other again..

Teach Acceptance, not Tolerance.

How can I receive a Thank You from someone, Any One, for help, which I myself have borrowed? Help which I have been given in the past, when I needed it.

How MANY times in Life, ever since FOR EVER, people, have said the right thing, the right time, to complete a mental process of my own or even to guide me – without prior thinking of mine – towards any direction of thought/decision.. therefore non-biased. but accidental and divinely synchronised. yet.. how MANY times have i been helped by the streets? by people you find, in the most random dodgy places, at random times, clubs, cabs, bakeries, corners and streets, parties, festivals, exhibitions, pavements, ancient ruins, steps, hangouts with a good view.. random people, from a different place, far away or around here, friends, strangers, pre-destined pieces of Art, pre-announcing the coming of something – something which you’d never thought about before yet now makes absolutely perfect sense. THiS is it. The catalyst for all the thinking. And so, it MAKES SENSE. Finally.

When your work is done here, then the loop unfolds and you move in to the next level. Like unlocking a stage in a computer game. Figure out the moral and you move on to next level. Then the loops become scars and then the scars become wisdom. Some point.

I owe it, to pass it on.

As far as I know and as I can help, in a silent and respectful manner, without guiding the thinking process, nor giving an opinion or an answer.
Without interfering / without tampering / without enforcing
yet
providing the understanding / open forgiveness / tender care / simplicity / humanity
and thus the other human being receives the warmth necessary to wisely take the next step.

Leaving from his/her loop.. moving to next stage

Long journey it is. Brace yourself.

chentro (30)

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Self Destruction

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Lost the Darkness Lost the Light.

Lost everything at Sight.

It’s the notion, it’s the potion,

the sickness and the cure,

the pain combined with pleasure..

in the thickness of the air.

 

Lost in darkness lost in Lust.

Lost in Glory.

There there’s Light.

I ruined everything at sight.

Feed on illness of my heart

and the vengeance of the night.

 

When you feel it and you know it,

what you have to do is go,

and you fight it and you kill it,

yet the answer is still no.

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The beginning and the end.

The thin line of sanity, misplaced.

We live in that illusion

cause it makes us all feel safe.

Well it’s a choice, like any other,

that you sometimes have to make.

 

A false sense of security, a blanket much outstretched.

The devil by your side is smiling,

because you are playing the game he invented.

You live inside the hell you have created.

 

Too tired to fight.

Too hurt to leave.

So you go on.

Living inside the heaven or hell you have created.

 

Commit the crime inside your soul,

unable to carry it out in the world.

 

Then rage rises up to choke.

 

At the boiling point of sadness,

where water turns to steam.

 

Lost for words, find yourself.

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