If there is a single word I could use to describe myself right now, it would be ‘floating.’ I have levitated, yes. It is clear that I have taken the leap. But I am suspended mid-air. I’m not there yet.
I haven’t really defined what ‘there’ should be. As a child of spontaneity, I have contented myself with daring and plunging, playing with risks, hoarding as many memories as my own worries. I am young and indeed, in a stage of uncertainty. Someday, I might find myself laughing at this stupidity (or bravery), but for now, I’m trying to prod on and just get the best of whatever it is that life hurls my way.
Earlier this year, I started looking for answers to the ‘bigger questions of life’ – things that were previously put aside by brainwashing and innocence. Life really teaches you a lot. So far, it has began by presenting me with philosophical dilemmas that I sought (hard) alternative answers for in books and travels and people. Interestingly enough, my own curiosity brought me to this group of wonderful intellectuals united by the same crises that I am having. Most of them have already traveled far. But they religiously come together every once in a while to contemplate about the missing pieces of existence, of things beyond money or the stock market or the appointments next week. I joined the motley mob of skeptics, atheists and Buddhists who talk about compassion and God and sleep – and life and food and silence.
The common thread of what holds us together. Because we’ve learned that there is certain liberation in returning to peace. We sit for minutes to revel in our own presence. To go back to the self and be mindful of our individuality. To once again, unite the soul and the body.
I am not a very stable person. I keep a lot of things to myself and there had been secrets that only the paper and the pen had known. I am still beguiled by how much there is that I don’t understand. It’s humbling.
They say ignorance is bliss. The holy scripture stresses the directly proportional correlation between knowledge and suffering. This is an age-old truth. But when given a choice between not knowing and journeying the unknown, I would rather risk eternal suffering. Because ignorance is stangnacy, the wrong word to associate with fulfillment. And I like my answers.
So while the city goes to bed, I saunter the streets and bask in its most uncelebrated beauty – silence. I have long been a child of the night, relishing in the comfortable unfamiliarity of deserted pavements. The blend of darkness and artificial light always an entertainment within the resting belly of the beast. And somehow, things begin to clear up, whether it’s at 12 or three in the morning, the darkness always takes away part of the burden.
We’re losing ourselves in the current. It is easy to. We blame things, we make excuses, we unconsciously lose ourselves in the limelight. Maybe we’ve left half of ourselves somewhere and we’re struggling to feel whole again. But also, maybe we are not looking in the right places.
Maybe there are answers somewhere, just waiting to be found.