Brother, speaking of divine inspirations, (which of course comes without perspiration.), they are the most wonderful of all things!
The other day I had one such. The world has suddenly become empty of everything except for me, my wife and a gold smith! As you might have guessed that the gold smith is the important part. He is there to make trinkets for my wife, without which she of course can’t survive.
This elated me no end. What worries people? ‘Other’ people no doubt! (We worry ourselves sometimes too, this is a subtle point, and we naturally would not admit it). Well the ‘other’ also could be your own alter ego. But we would not get in to those details here, for one thing we are not sublimely intelligent and for another this business of the alter ego or the other has been invented by people who do not know about themselves at all.
Well if you ask me what reason have I to speak of others and of what they know, absolutely no reason at all. But let me ask you, did that shut people up anytime. No, that is the beauty of life, you meddle in the lives of others no end. Without ever expecting them to meddle in yours. Oh that goes without saying does it not?
We can not be ever criticized (yours truly dislikes criticism so much that he usually does the trick of ostrich when that occurs. Well every one has their individual styles of course.)
I do not know whether the above divine inspiration would ever come to pass. If that occurs ‘me’ will really be put to test. Living with your beloved can be so damn terrible as only those who have had the luck would know. The problem could be that she always wants to “be loved” and loved like the bloody fucking hell. Unfortunately no man is a reservoir of love.
Well I can’t call myself a psychologist. But I can at least speak about myself can’t I? Honestly I find loving the toughest of all jobs. You thought it was some kind of blissful feeling which lasts for ever, did you now? Well the fact is otherwise. It does the trick of the tired horse some times, no amount of flogging would make it come to its feet, let alone run.
Now why is that? Why can’t we hold on to some feeling and make it work every time. I will let you into a secret. We almost divorced our physical self from the discussion. That is where the error lies. Whenever we talk about feelings we tend to forget that we are organisms which functions according to certain laws of nature.
I have had occasion to study Economics for a little while (hated it no end, was never a good student in my life). It taught me about the diminishing margin of utility. There is supposed to be a utility curve which goes down as the consumption of the commodity reaches the saturation point.
Love is a commodity too. All feelings are commodities. Even God and Truth are commodities, you don’t believe me? Well then you are never going to attain them at all.
But we are not talking about discovering truth here are we, though I have this fantastical habit of reducing everything into this one quest? It is very limiting really. It comes of having a one track mind. I had one such.
Ennui for a young man is the most destructive of all things. I was ensnared by Adwaita at a very dangerous age. It completely dried me up. It tore the magic of the life into tiny shreds. One who have practiced Pancheekarana etc (Practice of a sort of mental of alchemy or arithmetic to rid you of the belief in physical reality.) once for any length of time would never be fully”in” this world again. No amount of living is going to bring the romance of life back into you.
I have become senile in that sense. It is the most boring of all subjects in the world. If we only wanted to discover the holy truth, why come to this world at all? We had the fill of truth wherever we were. We were up to our neck in it. Why come here and rediscover it again?
Because we chose to come here. It was our bloody decision. We had had enough of oneness; we wanted to divide and become numerous, to kick up a holy din. That is why we are here, out of our own true volition. Then some one comes with this divine nonsense of running us back to the source. This is what we should call a futile quest. But we know love is not like that. We can’t have enough of it. I have to agree that it has some magic to it. I felt it myself and even he greats like Parasara felt it.
All the fever of love had happened to me before my intrusion into the spiritual. It was hectic too. Now it mostly serves as a measure to gauge the intensity of my other feelings by.
Love is totally physical and like everything else it has its saturation point and a downward curve. If it catches you on the downward curve you just can’t do anything about it. You might have felt the fever and burning once, but now you can’t take it any more, you can’t sustain it, it is not that you have ceased to like the person any the less. But you just are in no physical condition to put in the effort. Though we have elevated love to the stature of god it is as mortal as any thing else. It even dies off like a mortal. If it does so it can be never revived.
It is really an exchange of energy. When you are drained of the energy you can’t love, you can only fake it.
Being alone in the world with only our beloved as the object of our attention has one advantage in this sense, she would be there when the curve rises and falls and she can’t run away. But the problem is she can also be the most adamant and vindictive of all. You can’t rely on the goldsmith to take the brunt of the attack when she is angry.
And sex has very little to do with it.
Women somehow have a surplus of this strange energy called love and can call up it at a moments notice. This has always made me wonder.
She mostly limits herself to one pasture at a time too, while man would love to graze in the neighbors homestead. May be he requires different sorts of energies to live a full life. This difference in mentality causes all the skirmishes between the two kinds.
The long and short of it is that there is nothing divine in love at all. It can be called an exchange of energy. The more you get the better you feel. The more you have at your disposal the richer you feel. People become miserly about love. Then it becomes to look like a fucking possessiveness. Perhaps that is what it really is. Possessiveness. We camouflage it under a lot of nonsense, its wonderful nonsense but the moment we put them to an endurance test they fall apart.
Such is the sad tale of human love.
(Let me know if you can make sense out of it, for I can’t!)
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