Medi-date

This is another of those days that frequent me again. Times of sheer despair.You cannot describe this special degree of 'low' that you experience. It stresses, suffocates and stifles you both mentally and physically too. Somebody engineers this from somewhere and you cannot pinpoint who. But you have a ready list of suspects with one or two of them surely topping the list.

And as is my wont I begin to experience deep spirtual awakenings from within. Maybe this is the inbuilt, involuntary mechanism that guides us all to seek the 'self' to get the required relief. The suspects in your list cannot invade the privacy of your private religious domain and influence the Almighty to further dampen your spirits, right? I then seek the next best advocated route of meditation. Transcedental or otherwise.

Meditation as a process is so fascinationg to read or hear someone speak about. I meet many who declare that they meditate at will. And all of them tell me the same. It's easy with regular practice. Close your eyes. Sit relaxed and erect. And concentrate on nothing except an imaginary light straight ahead. And let the mind travel and gradually let the thoughts drift by and then... At this point they fail to convey anything. They say Peace envelopes you thereafter. And when I do all the above every conceivable thought ranging from the perverse to the inane pass through my mind with some of them so static that I need to force myself out of this imagined trance to come back to reality. I have always felt that during my non-meditation times ( sorry attempts! ) I think straight. There sure is instant relief after these attempts to examine and experience the abstract, or the occult? Escapism of a kind...?

It is easier to suffer the turmoil that my list of suspects silently heap on me than go through the motions of a self inflicted spirtual sojourn. When reality poses a problem meditation further confounds and compounds it. And that is my humble conclusion. I will go to work again tomorrow, yes!

Muse, excuse!

There have been times in the past when I have felt lost. Many times for that matter. And every time I felt low I reached for a sheet of paper and wrote poetry. I felt better or atleast I thought poetry as a remedial measure was soothing during difficult times. I picked words that reflected my thinking and tweaked them around... and with rhyme and rhythm neatly introduced... a work of art was born. Or so I thought!

And soon I recovered from my depression. And celebrated my newly created lyrical gem with select cronies who were my first circle of friends and relatives ever ready with their praise. And I always chose such guys with care. I surely wanted no accomplished poets in my circle. I was clear. My followers need to be simple and just about reasonably well read in order to understand and appreciate the dexterity with which someone wrote in the English language. And particularly poetry. And if perchance I had an intellectual for a friend ( I seem to have a ghastly lot of them these days, not by choice though!)i never brought the topic of poetry to him. I knew my onions about relationships, you see...?

And cut to today.... those bad depressing times but of a different breed altogether seem to be heading only in my direction all over again..regardless of purpose. After Iago I see some motiveless malignity at work again!

When the soul is thus tormented I now seek to blog. It is easy! And refreshing! Everybody blogs. Not all of them are well read to become critics. There is assured anonymity and therefore safety with those who do not know you. And with those who do.. you should not disclose you blogged.

When poets become bloggers, you bet, they need followers sure! Hey, my old cronies where are you? I need to seek the help of my young daughter now to trace those blighters through some 'old alumni' prompts of one of those darned websites that will bring back memories of the infernal institution that tutored us thus..

Ofcourse I need followers. Reasonably well read undergraduates with a set of adjectives that can pass of as comments that commend a work of art. Anybody around...?