Something of Myself
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Some things can never be. That's just the way they are. But still, why do we try? Why do we make all the effort, push ourselves, stretch beyond our limits and hope that the drops will coalesce to relinquish our thirst? Why? Who is it that we are trying to make happy? If death is the ultimate permanence that we all are moving towards (unknowingly?) then what is it that you desire?
Some things can never be. There is such a intrinsic sense of hopelessness and helplessness attached to it, that I can't even begin to explain how it feels when you realise, that some things can never be. It's like the lady who knows she can never become a mother. For her it's a cruel fact that she has to come to terms with. Babies won't come. Sperms won't succeed. Some things can never be.
But how do we accept it? How do we internalize it? Where do you begin? Does the truth come first, or the acceptance, or is it the consolation? Who does it for you? Are we even capable of doing it?
Is it just about a tug-of-war between chance and change? Or is it a battle between yourself and the self you want to be?
Damn, some things can never be. How difficult it must be for people who realise this and accept it without flinching and live their lives as if they never wished for anything else. I reckon it takes a lot of guts to explain to yourself that your existence, that your choice is unalterable. That some of the things you never chose are also unalterable. Irreversible. Un-do-able.
Some things can never be.
Some things can never be. There is such a intrinsic sense of hopelessness and helplessness attached to it, that I can't even begin to explain how it feels when you realise, that some things can never be. It's like the lady who knows she can never become a mother. For her it's a cruel fact that she has to come to terms with. Babies won't come. Sperms won't succeed. Some things can never be.
But how do we accept it? How do we internalize it? Where do you begin? Does the truth come first, or the acceptance, or is it the consolation? Who does it for you? Are we even capable of doing it?
Is it just about a tug-of-war between chance and change? Or is it a battle between yourself and the self you want to be?
Damn, some things can never be. How difficult it must be for people who realise this and accept it without flinching and live their lives as if they never wished for anything else. I reckon it takes a lot of guts to explain to yourself that your existence, that your choice is unalterable. That some of the things you never chose are also unalterable. Irreversible. Un-do-able.
Some things can never be.
3 Comments:
I know somethings can never be, but, we all have choices, either to lament over the things that will never happen or make our own alternatives. Its left to us to decide whether we wld like to live in the past or hug the future. choice is ours and only ours.
Hello Pele,
Sorry I haven't been here for the last few posts. I hope you are alright. I read with relish your piece about people saying you seemed 'sad'. I can totally relate to that. I think, like you say, the sadness and the pain shape our words. And, in fact, I think that the people who are happy all the time, are sometimes unreal. Are they hiding something? On the surface I am a happy, bubbly person, but I think that exterior has been my downfall, because when I 'fall' people are surprised. It is unexpected, but the darkness is what guides us in a way. And, as you quite rightly say, the happiness is just wonderful in contrast and makes the wonder even better.
I think that you touch on some very, very deep issues here and you are always so honest. I really admire that in your work. You are one of the few people I've read, who really delves into naked truth in a way. I love the way you write letters to your Baba here. And I'm learning some lovely phrases here too, different language, but I always feel I get the gist of things. It is very soft and poignant and open. I like that Pele.
I wonder if people ever really internalise the grief of knowledge that things can never be. Sometimes the pain of something that can never be is a beautiful pain. Like when we listen to a mournful piece of music, it is so painful and beautiful. It hurts to listen, but we return to it over and over again. You are a very honest person Pele, don't ever lose that magical quality. It is very rare.
Asha - Your point is taken. That's one of the major things that was running through my mind while I wrote this post. Hence, I wrote: "Is it just about a tug-of-war between chance and change?" Have you read Shantaram? The opening of the novel has a beautiful paragraph on 'choices.'
Molly - You are way too kind xx. Thank you. I hope I can live upto your expectations. I know what you mean when you say that people who are always happy seem 'unreal' (in fact, I'd be tempted to use the word 'surreal.')
Writing a blog is an arduous task for it involves clothing the truth with ashes of fiction, so that the people who know you do not understand where you are coming from. But I try to be as honest as possible, at least the feelings are...characters are invented and put to death for literary conveniences, but the thoughts, passions, emotions, pain...they remain true as much as I am. :-) Thanks once again for being a diligent reader of my fragments.
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