Progenitors and Progeny

Parents should be the guides to the way of world. They should handover the knowhow and the knowledge to the progeny. The fact that one can only handover what one knows, limits the offspring's scope but that is exactly what children need to work on. Parents should play the role of "buddy" to the newly recruited member of the planet earth. And children should be thankful to their progenitor for "showing the ropes". But once children understand their parent's limitations, they should work on expanding their "scope" and make most of everything they know. 

Self

The acceptance of self is the easiest act. It simplifies life to no extent. It clarifies the next steps and goals to fulfill like nothing else. 

Collector

Nothing should stop us from collecting the experiences we want to savor and remember. 

Unbelonging

Raging silence of an impressionable mind
That searched for a sense of belonging
In words of wisdom, facts and fiction
To make up for soul stirring conversations

The first ray of meaning came with one
That started awe-inspiring friendship of souls
For equally fired spirits and minds
One that could teach and one that could learn

Transcending every rule of world
Unexplained and understood
Inflamed the mind to finally put
Those silent thoughts to coherent words

Duty to Self

Abandoning the one we love to let ourselves live in sanity is allowed only if that love brings us down to a level where we cannot respect ourself - for possessiveness, pettiness and lost peace of mind. It is better to be at peace than to be in a relationship that is mentally abusive.

Our first and foremost duty to ourself is to rise and become a better version of ourselves. Anything that reverses the process should be abandoned - people, places, things, thoughts, actions and words. Those things inflict a pain to the soul.

We are programmed to gravitate towards things that raise our soul and level of life. We should strive towards them in awareness. 

Simple and Natural

What is it that makes your mind comprehend something as complex and something as simple? Art for me is simple - in any format. I am attracted to it naturally. Why am I am not attracted to other things out there in the same way? 

The Fountainhead - Logic

Had read The Fountainhead a long time back but a recent look at the synopsis agin while reading Ayn Rand's biography, helped me understand Peter Keating better this time round.

I was taken aback by the logic of Peter Keating's character. It did make me think as I had never thought in that direction. Some people are so empty within that they mirror people around and try to be better at that. They have nothing to standby and nothing to live by - just plain need of people to value them. Peter Keating existed for people who liked him. The more number of people liked him, more valued was his own existence. He could not have afforded to lose people - for that would indicate loss of his very existence. So he did everything in order to be on the right side of people.

On the other hand, Howard Roark did not care if he had people on his side. He valued himself and his existence more than people. His confidence was derived from his knowledge of self and he could stand alone in any situation because he knew what his stand was. He is an example of a man who is so aware of himself that he does not care about his fate. He can only attract followers who will always be in awe. He does not go to people, they come to him, after they can comprehend what he is all about. He takes pride in his purpose and is focused on getting it at any cost.

Dominique Francon's character is capable of distinguishing the characters of Peter Keating and Howard Roark and hence has the ability to understand society's reaction to each of them. She can see clearly what many people cannot in Peter or Howard. She has a predilection to Howard's character but also understands the ground reality of the society in which she lives. She knows, she cannot convince Howard to camouflage himself to blend in and that he will be destroyed by the very principles he lives by. She knows that society will exalt Peter Keating and the likes by the very nature of them being wanting to be liked by everyone. 

Ayn Rand and Her Life.

Do I agree with everything Ayn Rand says? No.
Do I agree with her lifestyle or thought processing all the time? No.
But I do respect her truthfulness to 'her' values and way of life.

She did live by her principles - so in the face for everyone else - that it was hard to ignore her. She must have been hated more than liked in her immediate circle but the fact is that no one could have ignored her. Her aura must have attracted people but her true self would have driven away more. She was focused to her purpose and ignored everything else. Her natural self was propelled towards writing and only that. She used every bit of her experience, life and people around her to meet that goal. She was selfish and she was rude. But she completed her purpose, the reason of her birth and life. She was born to write. 

Ayn Rand

Ayn Rand lived in her own world, in her mind. The more I read about her, the more few things make sense to me. It is as if I am watching thoughts take shape of words to read back to me, sensations that I had long forgotten somehow.

And I remember...

He hugged him and turned towards her. His concern was visible in his movement. His touch communicated more than his words could ever have. His voice betrayed his worry. Yet, his words were appropriate for the occasion. Very casual and normal under the circumstances. He waited for them to board the train. And waited long after the train left.

So you won't be coming here anymore?

Some conversations that come back in brief, lonely moments. Places. People. Words. Phrases. That meant so much and touched the soul. Moments that make life worth living.

Legacy

You are a legacy of everything that came before you. Each and every experience has left an impression on you. Every person that has met you had changed you. And you bring that to the table. It's your effort and hard work though.

Alone

We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.
-- Orson Welles

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.
-- Lao Tzu

1984

It is slightly disturbing to know that we can hardly read all the interesting books out there in our short lifetime. Reading has reduced due to everything else around us. No wonder I missed the wonderful, wonderful 1984 all this while - it was a matter of 'could not by chance'. Always knew about it but could never get to it.

The idea is so simple and so complex at the same time. A society that makes you go against your very nature (whatever that may be) by its constant microscopic evaluation of your conduct, thoughts and actions is well described. And so are the impacts. We don't have to live in a post apocalypse world to know this feeling. It exists so much in our everyday life - subtlely.

Society slowly converts you as per their wish and demand by manipulating and conditioning you accordingly.

Comfort in Books

As I emptied the box, full of books and laid them around me, I realized that there is comfort in books. It was as satisfying as looking at old pictures, lost in time and memory. It gave a certain sense of belonging, of being me - a part that had been forgotten for a while. 

I left my heart in San Francisco

 

"What fetched me instantly (and thousands of other newcomers with me) was the subtle but unmistakable sense of escape from the United States."

~H.L. Mencken

How true these words stand in time and space! I am not sure of Mencken's (1880-1956) exact visit to San Francisco that inspired these thoughts but he was far removed from me in time. Yet, his thoughts echo what I felt in 2006. No dearer memory of the city remains as the first brush of the fog-draped morning in San Francisco that July. It had the magic of Europe spilling with energy of America amidst nature's marvelous nook. A fishing village that grew to be the biggest and the loveliest of the cities.

A city so unlike America that it enthralls its visitors and dwellers alike. It is a world in itself: self-contained,  artistic and so beautiful. Every aspect of it needs to be explored to savor its magic. There is a newness in this old city that showcases itself every time it is visited. It can capture one's imagination as a seductress and we must visit it again and again to get a fill of its mysterious self. 

"San Francisco has only one drawback. ''Tis hard to leave"

Rudyard Kipling

Of A Kind

She rushed up the staircase searching, looking for someone who could help her. Anyone. This was panic at its peak - she had to do something so vile that she dreaded it and yet, it had to be done pronto. In her flurry of emotions, she could not think of anyone who could help. The place was so crowded but it could have been an empty office on a Sunday night.

In the corridor she saw him, just about to turn into an open door. There was a vicious air about him. His companions looked more like co-conspirators, in a hurry to leave. She ran towards them just out of having nothing better to do. These were the kinds she had always dreaded and yet only they could have understood the urgency looming over her. The moving crowd made it difficult for her to reach to them. He had almost turned into the door when she caught his eye. Her face betrayed emotions her words could not have explained in such a short time. He stopped and turned. His companion touched his shoulder. This was not the time to waste.

She stopped few steps short almost in tears now. Tears of relief - because he had stopped. He motioned his companion to go ahead - he would be joining them in a minute. As he came towards her in a couple of long strides, all he asked was "What happened?".

He noticed that her eyes were brown. All these days, they had steered clear of each other's presence. It was a matter of principles and what they did. Each one in their heart of hearts knew that the other cannot be convinced - perspectives after all differ. But it was fine - they could co-exist as long as they did what they had to do. And he noticed that her lower lip pouted when she cried. "Like a baby" he thought.

He did not know exactly how to react to this outburst so he guided her to the nearest pillar next to the wall - it shielded her from the looks of strangers in the corridor. And then he muttered "OK fine, what do I have to do?". Her head jerked in his direction and now she was suddenly quite. She had not expected this nonchalant attitude to her grave issue. Her mind raced. But then knowing him she also knew that he meant it to a certain degree.

She blinked. She felt relief flooding all over her. She was suddenly calm. She felt like giggling. Only he could have this affect on her. Unexpected. She looked up to his waiting face and he could see that her mind was made. And his eyes widened in disbelief.

At the Prospect

"Head for the door", someone screamed and a mad rush overcame the group. They forgot the camaraderie that had been almost forced upon them by the flagrant situation and ran for their lives. 

Jim chuckled. He had counted on this reaction. "Fools!" he muttered and headed towards the back of the room. He was never in the favor of having a troop so divided - in spirit. If it was upto him, he would have handpicked the able bodied men from his old settlement and worked out a plan. But High Command had insisted that they needed numbers rather than head-strong men at this crucial hour. 

He leaned against the wall and slowly reviewed the now empty room. His expression was saddened. He wanted to move but he was dejected. He knew this was coming all along and somehow it did not matter any more. He drew a cigar from his left pocket of his warm coat and scrummaged for the lighter in his right one. He had some time to savor this last bit of luxury and he was thoughtful as he drew his first drag. 

He could hear the cries that filled the streets and they brought him back from his reverie. He moved briskly to extinguish the only lamp to his right. The room was draped in darkness. It could be a matter of minutes. They would come in and take him away. He could run out and expose himself to danger or stay in here and take a chance. He settled for the latter. 

As he waited, his mind filled with the most trivial of affairs, he thought of why he had never learnt to dance. He knew he could not do that to save his life. He wished he had died last winter when he caught that bad case of influenza. That would have better than being arrested, now wouldn't it? May be they won't kill him after all. May be they will not even consider him to be important enough. He pondered laboriously as to why he should not die - he could not recall a clear reason to live. He had seen it all, done it all and forgotten none of it. But somehow living seemed harmless compared to being dead in sometime. What if he can kill himself now? He was not strong enough to do that - he smiled wryly. His state of mind seemed very casual as he slowly turned each thought around in his head and this seemed to please him greatly. 

Death could only be the one thing he had not experienced and he might as well present himself to this latest opportunity. So he took long puffs and settled on a chair in the corner, as he waited and soon got lost in his thoughts. 

Hills and Beyond

There is this side of me that is totally fascinated by living and traveling in a certain way. It is the side that wishes for a small cottage in the foothills of a mountain or a remote corner of a lesser known hill. A place where I can read and write and spend my days away from civilization as I know it - for days.

To search and to discover

Things that are profound

Right in front of everyone 

Yet hidden for long...

Every man is an end in himself

"Man—every man—is an end in himself, not a means to the ends of others; he must live for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself; he must work for his rational self-interest, with the achievement of his own happiness as the highest moral purpose of his life." | The Ayn Rand Column ‘Introducing Objectivism’.


I know that the above quote can create a flurry of comments anywhere but the way I look at it is - if an individual is not happy, they can never make another individual happy. The whole thought of being good to everyone springs from the being of a happy person, not a sad, irritated, dissatisfied person. And everyone's happiness lies in something different, so being selfish about achieving that by "neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself" should be our aim. This would automatically take care of the individual's attitude towards everyone else around. 


It seems such a simple thought and such an intuitive one, which if followed the way it was meant to, is really revolutionary.

Innocence

Remembering the times that were innocent in every aspect. 

No complications, just heartfelt actions. No fear. Just courage.
The world turns one into a very careful pessimist. 

And suddenly things that were easy to do, become the most complicated things ever.

Words change their meaning. Simplest of them.

People change. Closest of them.

And then we love everything that reminds us of that pristine, pure days of Innocence. 

Days that can never come back.

Being Yourself

People want to be themselves with age. 
But that is difficult.
 Given that the world would prefer a well presented sham instead. 


Pretend and please

Not a soul to forgive

for being yourself, really 


At the table

As we sat there on the table, it suddenly felt pointless. My focus shifted from being a part of it, to observing us. Suddenly I was seeing faces, expressions, body language and eyes. The table was full of people with different aspirations, at different stages of their lives with very different stories. And they all seemed either equally interested or equally bored or equally being what they were supposed "to be", on that table. The conversation was totally random, and yet somehow same.

Essay

If you have to write a one page essay of how your life has been so far, something that only you can see, what would it feature?
Now imagine if you had to re-write this one page essay when you're 70, given that you live till 70, what would it feature?
Today might not even be in it. What would be in it?