REFLECTING ON LIFE'S JOURNEY

Since ‘we are condemned to live,’ it is reasonable to go ahead and analyze our existential position in this crazy world of ours off and on.

Of late, the critique of life has become one of my favorite subjects to dwell upon in my blog writing journey. I enjoy reflecting on the infinite avatars of life as they whet my thinking prowess by unfolding deeper insights of this thrilling conundrum. It is no less than an intellectual challenge to delve into this field of oceanic proportions by picking up some chosen threads. Sometimes out of the blue, sundry thoughts intrude into grey cells, take shape and come alive on the blank pages as follows:

Reminiscising about the lived calendar of one’s life throws out interesting realizations:

Here is the personal narrative:

(a) Contrary to popular belief; it is observed that we tend to change for the better with the passage of time. The change is not like a waterfall, suddenly coming into existence somewhere, after a heavy downpour in the hills. Here the change is deliberate, conscious, slow and steady based on the shifting truths and perceptions of daily life.

Soon to be on the threshold of my seventies, I know how this change has come about in me. The journey of this change has been flavored with bitter sweet happenings, moulding my character in between, cautioning me along the way about the fragility of human bonds and about the power of the spoken word which can make or break relationships.

(b)Yes, certainly confidence declines with age, beleaguered by challenging circumstances in the course of life‘s multifarious roles. Later in life the love and affection of grand children compensates this loss sufficiently.

(c) Life’s canvas gets etched with markings of momentary highs and some long drawn lows out of which the memories are born. However, life never ceases to be interesting and worthy. But this roller coaster of life begins differently for different people.

I started with a protected and loving childhood and adolescence. Got degrees, became a professional. Marriage and motherhood followed. Experienced the pain, when myths of mushy romance, shared with friends during heavenly gossip sessions, while luxuriating in the lawns of GCG Chandigarh, got burst at the altar of hard realities. Later passed through the usual heart aches of married life, smothered in the secret crying on the pillow or sitting on the garage roof under starlit nights. Writing personal poems to blurt out the stifling emotional deluge and finally gaining a state of stoicism via falling and balancing.

The journey’s cobbled path with a few roses thrown here and there remains enshrined firmly within me.  And the prized rosy days are locked safely in the vase of fragrant memories.

Life is no lyrical ballad, it is an epic poem with some sweet pains and numerous heart aches. In fact life’s lyrics get written every day.

(d)Amidst the choking compromises of life, clinging to the memory of those creatively thrilling precious moments gives succor and stability in spite of occasional rough terrains.

(e)For the creatively active there are always some tasks left to be accomplished and lived for and the body basics have to be taken care of, to ensure its support for as long as possible.

(f) To constantly seek some wonder moments is the new logo for being alive. The moments which take your breath away. Like the thrill of unexpectedly seeing a spider’s web exquisitely woven, hanging on balcony’s railing after a rain soaked day.  Is there room for resentments and excesses of any kind to squander this jewel of life upon...?

(g)One has to keep resurrecting the special celebratory vignettes from the bank of memories to transcend the sultriness of life.

(h)To keep the tracks of life oiled and functioning healthily, the crutches of procrastination have to be discarded. Otherwise the ‘Apple Cart’ of life will go down into quicksand impossible to be retrieved.

(i)Even with dwindling energies, the battle has to rage within to stomp over the dead wood of passivity and inch towards some goal with child like curiosity, till the last breath is breathed.

Image courtesy: The Internet

Friends your thoughts are welcome!