Do I really need to shy away from appreciation? Why do I shy away from admiration? What happens to me when people admire me?
A follower of my blog wrote something yesterday which I have conveniently taken in as admiration. For all you know, she may have simply left a comment / remark from her side which expressed what she felt. And I choose to look at it as admiration.
Well - this is surely one inner process I need to examine. What happens when someone says something? Why is there a need to attach a 'meaning' to it - so that I can then feel something about it? A friend of mine tells me that I think too much asking me, "Is it really necessary to think so much? Yes - we attach meanings - so what? Everyone does. So let go on with life..." I usually hear some variant of this from a lot of friends.
But somehow, my heart deep inside is not convinced. It wants to delve into depths hitherto unexamined. It wants to examine each and everything that comes the way. My quiet rejoinder to my friends is: If we are unwilling to examine ourselves and want to be what we are because everyone else is, then we should be ok in the way everyone else is treated by life. We need exceptions on how we should be treated; yet we are unwilling to examine ourselves.
Coming back to the issue of admiration. I feel cornered. Let me admit that I do like it. Come on - who won't. Sometimes we don't. I recollect the times I used to cringe from it. Now I at least accept it, though still find it difficult. It occurred to me in one instance of an intensive self work that for me the sense of appreciation was linked to the issue of feeling 'worthy'. There is this inner voice within that constantly used to ask: Am I really worthy? Do I really feel that it belongs?
It has been a troubled quest and in that quest, the quote from Marianne Williamson, which Nelson Mandela had once used, has helped me stand in good stead:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are younot to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” (Marrianne Williamson in "A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles").
If this is so, do I really need to shy away from appreciation?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Inner Dialogues | July 09, 2010
Inner Dialogues - well, that's the name. The name of my first book. It has not come out yet, but it will. I have the name now with me. It came to me as I was traveling in the train on way to work one morning. For a moment, I took a pause. What does it mean? What is it for? Will I really write a book?
Well, if I look at it, ultimately, it seems that we live life all in dialogues. The more I see of life, the more I realise that what I create and live in is my view of the world. I feel safe inside, and the world feels safe outside. I feel insecure inside, and I am scared outside. And I realise that it is so beautiful. Just as in a movie, multiple dialogues can keep happening, so is the case with me. I suspect it happens to others too - including you, the reader.
What is a dialogue? The online etymology dictionary has this to say:
dialogue: early 13c., "literary work consisting of a conversation between two or more people," from O.Fr. dialoge, from L. dialogus, from Gk. dialogos, related to dialogesthai "converse," from dia- "across" (see dia-) + legein "speak" (see lecture). Sense broadened to "a conversation" c.1400. Mistaken belief that it can only mean "conversation between two persons" is from confusion of dia- and di-. (Source: http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=dialogue).
So, basically it is about a conversation - of coming across to each other. When I speak with myself, I find that I do not always come across. Speak with myself !
Yes, I find that I talk with myself. Not like the way I used to in childhood as part of growing up (well, to confess, sometimes, I still do that); but as a way of communing with myself. I go out and see a finely dressed person and I say to myself, 'what a gentleman!' The next moment, I see him spit on the road and my thoughts are: 'ughh! what a disaster.' Usually, it happens this way.
So I come back to my dialogues. No one hears them, or knows about them. Yet, they feel it. I however, not only feel them, but also know and hear them. Remember how as a child, our parents would catch us and ask, '...so what are you thinking...' God - how I hated it, to be caught. But then, come to think of it, they perhaps experienced the outcome of the inner dialogue within me. And that inner dialogue creates my reality. I experience them in various forms: thoughts, emotions, feelings - call it what.
If you thought that the Inner Dialogue is about having a thought, then you are both right and wrong. Right because it is indeed a thought. But wrong because the Inner Dialogue is that primordial conversation that I have with myself that there is no one really there in that space to be there with me. I am utterly alone in that conversation. It is that conversation which blends all myriad forms of expression known to me: feelings, thoughts, emotions. It is that which keeps me alive to myself and to this world OR it sometimes divorces me from myself.
The inner dialogue is my inner frame of reference. Long ago, I read that behavioural scientists use a peculiar terminology: "schema". In their view, each individual has a "mental schema" which put very simply is a 'mental model' of the world. And we live our life based on that model. I suspect that that mental model is composed of the Inner Dialogues.
But sometimes, I pause and reflect. What is reflection? Comes from the verb, 'reflect'? And that is what a mirror or any polished object does. It shows what is. And the degree to which it shows is proportional to the degree to which it is clean and shiny. The degree of cleanliness and shine is proportional to the effort gone into cleaning or the process of making it. So does that mean, that for my reflection, I need to have something clean within?
Well - what does that mean? I suspect it means that I should be able to examine the thought for what it is? And not add on other pieces of data. Something that the humming voice within my head does. And what happens in these moments of reflection - of the pause?
I stop. I find that when I just stand, I do not see motion elsewhere. In the motion of my thought, is there a motion of the next - one I say, the other, something within me does. Call it 'sanskar' or 'karmic imprint' or 'memory' or whatever. And that is what I mean by inner dialogue. This inner dialogue is what keeps going on - till I pause and reflect when if I am blessed, it slows down.
But more often than not, the dialogue goes on. In my understanding, this dialogue goes on irrespective of our level of consciousness - awakening, dreaming, sleeping. In wakening state, I can hear it the loudest - if I pause. As for dreams, I guess it is obvious - they are the conversation. I am not so source of sleeping, but I suspect that it is still there - for I wake up to the feeling of having been there as I lay sleeping.
One way to become more aware of myself, is to examine these dialogues within. I realise that the next step I take is based on the outcome of the inner dialogue held previously. And I continue and I go on. I have found it of meaning to stop and pause from time to time. And just see the dialogue. Sometimes, I have found that it is not just a dialogue - it is a complete script. Other times, it is a full play. Sometimes, it is just a playful banter - at other times, it is a wall of stone, as strong a wall as any medieval castle or fort would have.
Over time, I have learnt that it is this inner dialogue that gets entrenched and makes my reality. It is the inherent tension between the uttering of the 1st statement by myself and the 2nd by something within (I as of yet don't want to label it - but you may equate it with a variant of 'subconscious'), I find that creativity exists. That is the space for choice. Of an alternate. Of creation of an alternate reality. Of examining a possibility.
But what exactly is an 'Inner Dialogue?' I seem to have meandered all over as usual. To be honest, the answer eludes me. Perhaps, that is why I search for it. Quantum physicists tell us that reality is changed in the way it is observed. In my keenness to observe this Inner Dialogue, and give a definition to it, I seem to be changing it. Honestly, I don't want to chase. I seem to like the fact that I can sometimes (and I wish I could do it more often) just observe and be with it. That moment is so empty and yet so full of itself. So nothing of fullness and so full of nothingness.
It is to these Inner Dialogues that I pay my respect to. Respect: you may ask why? For it is these inner dialogues that have helped shape and sustain me - to be in this world. Granted that not all are the ones, I would like to have, they nevertheless have served a purpose - a purpose that I chose at some moment. Only when I can respect what is, can I move to 'what could be.'
What could be: _________ (fill it for yourself). In the space and pause between the Inner Dialogue, there is nothing and there is everything. And that too is an Inner Dialogue.
Well, if I look at it, ultimately, it seems that we live life all in dialogues. The more I see of life, the more I realise that what I create and live in is my view of the world. I feel safe inside, and the world feels safe outside. I feel insecure inside, and I am scared outside. And I realise that it is so beautiful. Just as in a movie, multiple dialogues can keep happening, so is the case with me. I suspect it happens to others too - including you, the reader.
What is a dialogue? The online etymology dictionary has this to say:
dialogue: early 13c., "literary work consisting of a conversation between two or more people," from O.Fr. dialoge, from L. dialogus, from Gk. dialogos, related to dialogesthai "converse," from dia- "across" (see dia-) + legein "speak" (see lecture). Sense broadened to "a conversation" c.1400. Mistaken belief that it can only mean "conversation between two persons" is from confusion of dia- and di-. (Source: http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=dialogue).
So, basically it is about a conversation - of coming across to each other. When I speak with myself, I find that I do not always come across. Speak with myself !
Yes, I find that I talk with myself. Not like the way I used to in childhood as part of growing up (well, to confess, sometimes, I still do that); but as a way of communing with myself. I go out and see a finely dressed person and I say to myself, 'what a gentleman!' The next moment, I see him spit on the road and my thoughts are: 'ughh! what a disaster.' Usually, it happens this way.
So I come back to my dialogues. No one hears them, or knows about them. Yet, they feel it. I however, not only feel them, but also know and hear them. Remember how as a child, our parents would catch us and ask, '...so what are you thinking...' God - how I hated it, to be caught. But then, come to think of it, they perhaps experienced the outcome of the inner dialogue within me. And that inner dialogue creates my reality. I experience them in various forms: thoughts, emotions, feelings - call it what.
If you thought that the Inner Dialogue is about having a thought, then you are both right and wrong. Right because it is indeed a thought. But wrong because the Inner Dialogue is that primordial conversation that I have with myself that there is no one really there in that space to be there with me. I am utterly alone in that conversation. It is that conversation which blends all myriad forms of expression known to me: feelings, thoughts, emotions. It is that which keeps me alive to myself and to this world OR it sometimes divorces me from myself.
The inner dialogue is my inner frame of reference. Long ago, I read that behavioural scientists use a peculiar terminology: "schema". In their view, each individual has a "mental schema" which put very simply is a 'mental model' of the world. And we live our life based on that model. I suspect that that mental model is composed of the Inner Dialogues.
But sometimes, I pause and reflect. What is reflection? Comes from the verb, 'reflect'? And that is what a mirror or any polished object does. It shows what is. And the degree to which it shows is proportional to the degree to which it is clean and shiny. The degree of cleanliness and shine is proportional to the effort gone into cleaning or the process of making it. So does that mean, that for my reflection, I need to have something clean within?
Well - what does that mean? I suspect it means that I should be able to examine the thought for what it is? And not add on other pieces of data. Something that the humming voice within my head does. And what happens in these moments of reflection - of the pause?
I stop. I find that when I just stand, I do not see motion elsewhere. In the motion of my thought, is there a motion of the next - one I say, the other, something within me does. Call it 'sanskar' or 'karmic imprint' or 'memory' or whatever. And that is what I mean by inner dialogue. This inner dialogue is what keeps going on - till I pause and reflect when if I am blessed, it slows down.
But more often than not, the dialogue goes on. In my understanding, this dialogue goes on irrespective of our level of consciousness - awakening, dreaming, sleeping. In wakening state, I can hear it the loudest - if I pause. As for dreams, I guess it is obvious - they are the conversation. I am not so source of sleeping, but I suspect that it is still there - for I wake up to the feeling of having been there as I lay sleeping.
One way to become more aware of myself, is to examine these dialogues within. I realise that the next step I take is based on the outcome of the inner dialogue held previously. And I continue and I go on. I have found it of meaning to stop and pause from time to time. And just see the dialogue. Sometimes, I have found that it is not just a dialogue - it is a complete script. Other times, it is a full play. Sometimes, it is just a playful banter - at other times, it is a wall of stone, as strong a wall as any medieval castle or fort would have.
Over time, I have learnt that it is this inner dialogue that gets entrenched and makes my reality. It is the inherent tension between the uttering of the 1st statement by myself and the 2nd by something within (I as of yet don't want to label it - but you may equate it with a variant of 'subconscious'), I find that creativity exists. That is the space for choice. Of an alternate. Of creation of an alternate reality. Of examining a possibility.
But what exactly is an 'Inner Dialogue?' I seem to have meandered all over as usual. To be honest, the answer eludes me. Perhaps, that is why I search for it. Quantum physicists tell us that reality is changed in the way it is observed. In my keenness to observe this Inner Dialogue, and give a definition to it, I seem to be changing it. Honestly, I don't want to chase. I seem to like the fact that I can sometimes (and I wish I could do it more often) just observe and be with it. That moment is so empty and yet so full of itself. So nothing of fullness and so full of nothingness.
It is to these Inner Dialogues that I pay my respect to. Respect: you may ask why? For it is these inner dialogues that have helped shape and sustain me - to be in this world. Granted that not all are the ones, I would like to have, they nevertheless have served a purpose - a purpose that I chose at some moment. Only when I can respect what is, can I move to 'what could be.'
What could be: _________ (fill it for yourself). In the space and pause between the Inner Dialogue, there is nothing and there is everything. And that too is an Inner Dialogue.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Muse | Khoj | 29th May 2010
Ek khoj mein hoon main!
na jaane kahan kahan na dhoondha:
dehleez ke paas,
tehkhane mein bhi;
par nirash ho kar main
baith gaya hoon
thodi der apne aap ko sambhalne ke liye
apne wajood ko jaane ke liye;
lagta hai ki main woh aadmi hoon -
jo bhari dupahar mein andhkaar khoj raha hai
haan haan... dhoondh raha hoon main -
un taaron ko, un sitaaron ko;
jo mujhe ej saagar kinare raat ko
moti ki tarah ret mein jilmilate hue dikhe the
jinhe choone se keval ehsaas hota tha
girti hui ret ka;
par us ret ko toh main thoda choo to saka -
woh baat alag ki kuch pal ke liye hi
waise to ab bhi main un smritiyon ko choota hoon
jo mujhe apne ki khoj mein phir se chala deti hain...
aur mere lad-khadate kadam phir se chal dete hain
ek khoj mein...
na jaane kahan kahan na dhoondha:
dehleez ke paas,
tehkhane mein bhi;
par nirash ho kar main
baith gaya hoon
thodi der apne aap ko sambhalne ke liye
apne wajood ko jaane ke liye;
lagta hai ki main woh aadmi hoon -
jo bhari dupahar mein andhkaar khoj raha hai
haan haan... dhoondh raha hoon main -
un taaron ko, un sitaaron ko;
jo mujhe ej saagar kinare raat ko
moti ki tarah ret mein jilmilate hue dikhe the
jinhe choone se keval ehsaas hota tha
girti hui ret ka;
par us ret ko toh main thoda choo to saka -
woh baat alag ki kuch pal ke liye hi
waise to ab bhi main un smritiyon ko choota hoon
jo mujhe apne ki khoj mein phir se chala deti hain...
aur mere lad-khadate kadam phir se chal dete hain
ek khoj mein...
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Tribute (to the one who knows its meant for) | Tum | 12th May '10
"Tum"
Tum jo baith kar shaant
aatur hoton ko sun
meri jeevan kavita saar
--- us se mujhe jeevandaan mila.
Tum aakhir ho kaun?
jeevan ka ek musaafir,
jo raste mein kahin milte hain -
apne un sambandhon se -
jinhen weh jaante he nahin;
par koshish karte hain:
ek seema lagaane ki,
ek naam dene ki...
aise tum ek pathik -
mujhe jo mil gaya -
aur meri kavita sun
--- mujhe alankrit kiya...
Tum jo baith kar shaant
aatur hoton ko sun
meri jeevan kavita saar
--- us se mujhe jeevandaan mila.
Tum aakhir ho kaun?
jeevan ka ek musaafir,
jo raste mein kahin milte hain -
apne un sambandhon se -
jinhen weh jaante he nahin;
par koshish karte hain:
ek seema lagaane ki,
ek naam dene ki...
aise tum ek pathik -
mujhe jo mil gaya -
aur meri kavita sun
--- mujhe alankrit kiya...
Reflection | On ISABS | 12th May '10
My journey - I never quite understood
My path that just came along
as i walked - pulled on by a
force unknown.
But I cry now - in joy or pain
I know not - for which
Now - when I get in touch
with the stops of a journey.
When a human heart
logical and on its quest of life
A life on mission and purpose
marching ahead to its own drum
deaf and mute - to the grass,
the lilies and the butterflies.
And then at some point
at some moment,
at some occasion,
when something happens
and there is a stillness, a silence:
of reflection, of realisation, of introspection.
It is for the joy of that moment, that silence
that I pursue the path...
My path that just came along
as i walked - pulled on by a
force unknown.
But I cry now - in joy or pain
I know not - for which
Now - when I get in touch
with the stops of a journey.
When a human heart
logical and on its quest of life
A life on mission and purpose
marching ahead to its own drum
deaf and mute - to the grass,
the lilies and the butterflies.
And then at some point
at some moment,
at some occasion,
when something happens
and there is a stillness, a silence:
of reflection, of realisation, of introspection.
It is for the joy of that moment, that silence
that I pursue the path...
Friday, April 30, 2010
Muse | How much do I need? | 30th Apr. '10
How much do I need after all?
The though troubles me – a question became a niggling doubt and now it seems to flow as a muse.
The thought struck me yesterday when I took out a few old clothes that did not fit me any more to give to my bai (maid). She has a son who is about my age and nearly my size; as also a younger son – so, my stuff pretty much fits either of them. As I took them out, I realized that in the past 1 year, I had let out and given more than half of my wardrobe to different persons. And still, I do not find that I have a dearth of clothes.
It is not that I ever had too many clothes – for I’ve naturally liked things sparse. No – it is not austerity or anything; its just that managing too much is too difficult a task. So the less there is or the leaner things are, the more easier they are to manage. Typical management gyaan – but it works for me. So instead of buying bulk packs, I buy food in packs that can be stored till I can consume them. A couple of times I have made the mistake otherwise on persuasion from friends, I have ended up regretting it. So over time, I find it better to have less to the level I need.
The other day, a friend of mine was shocked to note that I have only a couple of bed covers – to me a sufficient enough change when one goes in for laundry. I was greatly persuaded to buy more – to stock up for future needs. But what need – I asked? If one goes to laundry, I put the other one – simple. Well, no doubt there are times, when I want a change, and I would want to put different colours, but for the sake of that how much do I need? Ok, I might be a bit more leaner than others, so maybe I can do with a few more. But five: what for, as was suggested?
Coming back to clothes. So, it was quite funny as I reflected upon it. I had nearly given out half of my clothes – and from the above para you know how much I actually have – and still have clothes. Well, ok. I don’t have all clothes that I need. I don’t have separate clothes (and accessories) for an evening wear, an office wear, a party wear, “a whatever else” wear! Well – back to management concepts. KISS – keep it simple & straight. The more manner I have, the more trouble for me. Having different types of wear means: having the ability to match them; having the finesse to manage them having the capability to carry them off. And that is so so difficult – for me as a person. So KISS!
A few of my friends call me mad. A few others mad. And some real perceptive ones call me ‘eccentric’. Maybe I am eccentric. But hey – who is not. Had read a quote once which was, “Eccentricity / Idiosyncrasy is like having an accent – its what the others have it!” Brilliant – whosoever wrote that line.
Long ago a friend of mine had taught me a fundamental difference between “quality” and “quantity”. Except for a few people who have both quality and quantity, most of us have to manage with a combination of either. A typical Englishman would have quality. He would buy one good coat but keep it such that it lasts him years. Many of us to the contrary buy one every winter – cheap and cheerful stuff that lasts only that time. Which one do you choose? I found some wisdom in the former. The energy grows on you with time as also on your clothes. Now this is freaky stuff. Where you inhabit or where you are, you invest your energy there. So the more your clothes stay with you, the more their energy is.
I recollect my mother telling me as a child: if you respect your clothes, your clothes will respect you. I used to be a careless child who never gave a 2nd thought to keeping things properly. Some treatment of advice, counseling, cajoling, coaxing, and not sparing the rod helped me tide over my rebellious years and I find that I’ve pretty much liked that philosophy in life.
Not to say that there are no pitfalls of such an approach. When you choose quality, you need to manage it well. That calls for time and attention. At the same time, a replacement comes with a cost – of both time and money. So if you’re going through a lean patch, you have to compromise or wait. The choice seems frivolous, but sometimes it is a question of life and death. Would you rather wear a shirt with frayed collar (obviously not visible to all) for a while and wait a while for the new shirt or replace with a new rough and tumble shirt? I guess that’s the moment of reckoning for each one of us. Philosophy is not such a boring subject – when life is looked at this ways. Or maybe such mental gymnastics provides a touch of Tabasco to what they say, ‘la vie quotidian.’
But having said all this, I still don’t know why I don’t feel a dearth of clothes. I can count my pants in single digits and still I don’t feel I have less – so was it that I had too many to begin with? Or have I changed with time? That my needs have reduced? Or that I don’t consider them worth it? But what is my need after all – do I know it? I guess not. If you gift me something, I won’t back off – will gladly accept. “
And so, the question is, “What do I need?” And, “How much do I need after all?
The though troubles me – a question became a niggling doubt and now it seems to flow as a muse.
The thought struck me yesterday when I took out a few old clothes that did not fit me any more to give to my bai (maid). She has a son who is about my age and nearly my size; as also a younger son – so, my stuff pretty much fits either of them. As I took them out, I realized that in the past 1 year, I had let out and given more than half of my wardrobe to different persons. And still, I do not find that I have a dearth of clothes.
It is not that I ever had too many clothes – for I’ve naturally liked things sparse. No – it is not austerity or anything; its just that managing too much is too difficult a task. So the less there is or the leaner things are, the more easier they are to manage. Typical management gyaan – but it works for me. So instead of buying bulk packs, I buy food in packs that can be stored till I can consume them. A couple of times I have made the mistake otherwise on persuasion from friends, I have ended up regretting it. So over time, I find it better to have less to the level I need.
The other day, a friend of mine was shocked to note that I have only a couple of bed covers – to me a sufficient enough change when one goes in for laundry. I was greatly persuaded to buy more – to stock up for future needs. But what need – I asked? If one goes to laundry, I put the other one – simple. Well, no doubt there are times, when I want a change, and I would want to put different colours, but for the sake of that how much do I need? Ok, I might be a bit more leaner than others, so maybe I can do with a few more. But five: what for, as was suggested?
Coming back to clothes. So, it was quite funny as I reflected upon it. I had nearly given out half of my clothes – and from the above para you know how much I actually have – and still have clothes. Well, ok. I don’t have all clothes that I need. I don’t have separate clothes (and accessories) for an evening wear, an office wear, a party wear, “a whatever else” wear! Well – back to management concepts. KISS – keep it simple & straight. The more manner I have, the more trouble for me. Having different types of wear means: having the ability to match them; having the finesse to manage them having the capability to carry them off. And that is so so difficult – for me as a person. So KISS!
A few of my friends call me mad. A few others mad. And some real perceptive ones call me ‘eccentric’. Maybe I am eccentric. But hey – who is not. Had read a quote once which was, “Eccentricity / Idiosyncrasy is like having an accent – its what the others have it!” Brilliant – whosoever wrote that line.
Long ago a friend of mine had taught me a fundamental difference between “quality” and “quantity”. Except for a few people who have both quality and quantity, most of us have to manage with a combination of either. A typical Englishman would have quality. He would buy one good coat but keep it such that it lasts him years. Many of us to the contrary buy one every winter – cheap and cheerful stuff that lasts only that time. Which one do you choose? I found some wisdom in the former. The energy grows on you with time as also on your clothes. Now this is freaky stuff. Where you inhabit or where you are, you invest your energy there. So the more your clothes stay with you, the more their energy is.
I recollect my mother telling me as a child: if you respect your clothes, your clothes will respect you. I used to be a careless child who never gave a 2nd thought to keeping things properly. Some treatment of advice, counseling, cajoling, coaxing, and not sparing the rod helped me tide over my rebellious years and I find that I’ve pretty much liked that philosophy in life.
Not to say that there are no pitfalls of such an approach. When you choose quality, you need to manage it well. That calls for time and attention. At the same time, a replacement comes with a cost – of both time and money. So if you’re going through a lean patch, you have to compromise or wait. The choice seems frivolous, but sometimes it is a question of life and death. Would you rather wear a shirt with frayed collar (obviously not visible to all) for a while and wait a while for the new shirt or replace with a new rough and tumble shirt? I guess that’s the moment of reckoning for each one of us. Philosophy is not such a boring subject – when life is looked at this ways. Or maybe such mental gymnastics provides a touch of Tabasco to what they say, ‘la vie quotidian.’
But having said all this, I still don’t know why I don’t feel a dearth of clothes. I can count my pants in single digits and still I don’t feel I have less – so was it that I had too many to begin with? Or have I changed with time? That my needs have reduced? Or that I don’t consider them worth it? But what is my need after all – do I know it? I guess not. If you gift me something, I won’t back off – will gladly accept. “
And so, the question is, “What do I need?” And, “How much do I need after all?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Muse | Paribhasha | 21st Mar. '10
main - aur meri paribhasha:
lagta hai ki main ek nibandh hoon;
apne likhe hue lekh -
kuch shabd jo vyakt karte hain
apne astitva ko;
cheshtha karte hain: bolne va batane ki
-----apni ek kahani
jo shooroo hua likhna toh
na jaane shabd kahan se
anayaas hee aa jaate hain;
mano gomukh se jaise na jaane kaise
ek boond jal - ik ganga bana deta hai.
is silsile mein na jaane aaye kitne
gadya aur padya, prishtha va pustak
-----anokhi - par ek dooje se gunthi hui
par kabhi kabhi lagta hai ki main
to sirf baadhya hoon,
ik nibandh ke shabdon ki tarah
jo apni bhasha ke dwara
paaribhashit karte hain;
aur us paribhasha mein hi
---mujhe lapeete hain - baandh kar, seemit karte hain
aise kshanon mein jab maayoos main
un lekhon ko padhta hoon,
unke arth jaannee ka prayaas
toh na jaane kyun shabdkosh vyarth lagte hain;
mere shabdon ka arth keval
meri hi likhit shabdkosh mein hain;
-----unme nihit poornta meri abhivyakti hi toh hai
mera hi lekh, meri hi shabdkosh
mere hi arth, mujh mein nihit saamarth;
jaanne ki koshish karta hoon main
kai baar bhatak kar doojon se raasta pooch,
main pathik chalta hoon; ek bindu vishraam baad,
naye shabd jaal likhte hue...
--- ek nayi paribhasha mein apne ko khojte hue...
lagta hai ki main ek nibandh hoon;
apne likhe hue lekh -
kuch shabd jo vyakt karte hain
apne astitva ko;
cheshtha karte hain: bolne va batane ki
-----apni ek kahani
jo shooroo hua likhna toh
na jaane shabd kahan se
anayaas hee aa jaate hain;
mano gomukh se jaise na jaane kaise
ek boond jal - ik ganga bana deta hai.
is silsile mein na jaane aaye kitne
gadya aur padya, prishtha va pustak
-----anokhi - par ek dooje se gunthi hui
par kabhi kabhi lagta hai ki main
to sirf baadhya hoon,
ik nibandh ke shabdon ki tarah
jo apni bhasha ke dwara
paaribhashit karte hain;
aur us paribhasha mein hi
---mujhe lapeete hain - baandh kar, seemit karte hain
aise kshanon mein jab maayoos main
un lekhon ko padhta hoon,
unke arth jaannee ka prayaas
toh na jaane kyun shabdkosh vyarth lagte hain;
mere shabdon ka arth keval
meri hi likhit shabdkosh mein hain;
-----unme nihit poornta meri abhivyakti hi toh hai
mera hi lekh, meri hi shabdkosh
mere hi arth, mujh mein nihit saamarth;
jaanne ki koshish karta hoon main
kai baar bhatak kar doojon se raasta pooch,
main pathik chalta hoon; ek bindu vishraam baad,
naye shabd jaal likhte hue...
--- ek nayi paribhasha mein apne ko khojte hue...
Monday, February 22, 2010
Muse | Reflections of a humbling experience | 22nd Feb. '10
I feel humbled.
She must have been in her early 60’s – but looked in her 70’s. Or maybe she is indeed in her 70th. As I walked towards the station in the morning, I saw them walking past in a file. Once again, I saw all three of them – women ripe with age, yet carrying the responsibility of life – on their head. They walked steadily; this one had a staff in her hand to support herself. They walked exactly like they had done the previous few days – around the same time that I head to the station to take the morning train to work.
Why did they catch my attention? As I walked wondering what the purpose of life it – trying to iron out an intellectual debate within myself and feel great at the end of one more such resolution – I saw them again. Defining and re-defining life and exploring its various facets is such an intellectual high for me. Sometimes, it makes me oblivious to the mundane reality. And in front of me was the mundane. Was that profane?
They were carrying a pile of dry wood on their head. At 7.45 in the morning headed back; that means the wood gathering would have started much earlier. A quick calculation told me that they would have been out of the house not later than 6, maybe, even earlier. That wood would see them through the day – it is that wood that would warm the hearth and feed the stomachs. It would be fair to assume that they would be staying in houses without titles. Equally fair would be to assume that the concern for keeping the hearth warm is a daily affair. Needless to say, they would not have a gas connection or the like.
In some ways, I felt a bit miserable. For a moment, I experienced a pang of guilt – here was I wondering about life and trying to solve imaginary problems and there I saw them fulfilling what life demanded of them. Were they happy or not? I don’t know and I dared not ask them? Why did they carry it – and not a young son or daughter or daughter in law or even a grandson / grand-daughter? That was not within my right to ask them.
Yet, I experienced a sense of resoluteness on their face. The feet and hands were callused. As they walked, they covered their head with the ‘pallu’ of the saree. Perhaps I was a bit too rude – in retrospect, I realized that I had stared at her long. And she glanced at herself to see if her saree was draped properly around her – one tug, and she gathered her saree. Another tug: and she managed the pile and her gait with the staff. I had not intended to intrude into her space, but I could not help look at her in respect. I took my glance away like a recalcitrant school boy chastised by the teacher’s “glance”.
I had no business to analyse her and intrude into her dignity.
She must have been in her early 60’s – but looked in her 70’s. Or maybe she is indeed in her 70th. As I walked towards the station in the morning, I saw them walking past in a file. Once again, I saw all three of them – women ripe with age, yet carrying the responsibility of life – on their head. They walked steadily; this one had a staff in her hand to support herself. They walked exactly like they had done the previous few days – around the same time that I head to the station to take the morning train to work.
Why did they catch my attention? As I walked wondering what the purpose of life it – trying to iron out an intellectual debate within myself and feel great at the end of one more such resolution – I saw them again. Defining and re-defining life and exploring its various facets is such an intellectual high for me. Sometimes, it makes me oblivious to the mundane reality. And in front of me was the mundane. Was that profane?
They were carrying a pile of dry wood on their head. At 7.45 in the morning headed back; that means the wood gathering would have started much earlier. A quick calculation told me that they would have been out of the house not later than 6, maybe, even earlier. That wood would see them through the day – it is that wood that would warm the hearth and feed the stomachs. It would be fair to assume that they would be staying in houses without titles. Equally fair would be to assume that the concern for keeping the hearth warm is a daily affair. Needless to say, they would not have a gas connection or the like.
In some ways, I felt a bit miserable. For a moment, I experienced a pang of guilt – here was I wondering about life and trying to solve imaginary problems and there I saw them fulfilling what life demanded of them. Were they happy or not? I don’t know and I dared not ask them? Why did they carry it – and not a young son or daughter or daughter in law or even a grandson / grand-daughter? That was not within my right to ask them.
Yet, I experienced a sense of resoluteness on their face. The feet and hands were callused. As they walked, they covered their head with the ‘pallu’ of the saree. Perhaps I was a bit too rude – in retrospect, I realized that I had stared at her long. And she glanced at herself to see if her saree was draped properly around her – one tug, and she gathered her saree. Another tug: and she managed the pile and her gait with the staff. I had not intended to intrude into her space, but I could not help look at her in respect. I took my glance away like a recalcitrant school boy chastised by the teacher’s “glance”.
I had no business to analyse her and intrude into her dignity.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Muse | On grooming - a babble | 21st Feb. '10
"Change your specs. "
That shook me up. I had heard this before, but this time round it was different - it came from my mother (once again). And it came more as an “insistent pleading directive.” Yes, that sounds oxymoronic, but there was a sense of pleading, as if, "why don't you please do this for me?" At the same time, it was a bit authoritative, just like parents do when they really want to say, "I am saying this for your own good and so do it."
Well, I realise that times have changed. My being has changed. My equations have changed. Of course, what's the big deal? Things change with time. But some things don't change - or so I had assumed. And that is the mother - son relationship. That my mother would suddenly be interested in how I look, how I groom and preen myself is something new to me. I had never experienced that aspect of her.
In fact, while growing up, it was quite to the contrary. Spending more than half a minute in front of the mirror aroused her curiosity (and I guess some suspicion that I was dating girls) that led her to "innocently" comment, "you take quite a while in front of the mirror". And as if to discourage the behaviour, the stereotyping was completed with, "...just like girls." And this when in my whole of school days, I must never have stood in front of a mirror ever for more than 2 minutes at any given point of time.
But this is new to me. Suddenly, I found my mother different. She has a view on my clothes, accessories, and my grooming. Not the regular types that mums have, "have you had a bath" etc. Usually with boys, mums have this issue. This is not the issue I talk about. She can’t find fault with my personal hygiene. Well, let me share some examples. "So do you use the ‘Tabac’ Eau-de-Cologne that your sister gifted you?" Or, “which perfume do you use?” Weird - mum never asked such things. Or something like, "...that's not quite a combination…" referring to the North-South looks of my pant and shirt.
I am partially colour blind (I am not joking - I take a friend along for shopping). To add to it, I have not yet mastered the art of matching colours. So usually I stick to the solid colours. Of course white and black / blue are eternal matches. I mean, I just find it so difficult. I must confess that I've given up. I don't really care now except for ensuring that I am "by and large" ok. When it is some important occasion / meeting, I will ensure that I land up in black/blue and white - it just helps me skirt the whole issue of ‘making a choice’. Maybe I don't want to learn - well, not maybe, definitely. I just find it too boring and complex. My mind stops working. My heart beat increases as soon as I see multiple colour dresses - how on earth does one figure out the combination. I feel like a rat in a maze who has no clue of his / her surroundings when it comes to these issues. And so I console myself by saying that it is a man thing; finally, I have this excuse of colour blindness (God bless)!!!
So coming back to my surprise when my mother had a view on it. As a kid, she did have a view, but on most occasions, it was she who simply decided what we'd wear when going out of home for an occasion. I took that for granted - sigh, life was so simple (at least in that context). But now it’s all on my own. The other day we were to go and meet an acquaintance of ours. I put on a kurta and jeans and found my mother's piercing eyes examining me from head to toe. A volley of questions followed.
Post which an inquisition on not having had a hair cut. Just to pacify her and not give her the opportunity to pounce on me to have my specs changed, I went out and got one. In military strategy parlance, I did not want to be attacked on multiple fronts. I land up in office the next day and my colleague (a lady) tell me, “…hey, you got a ‘crew’ cut done – you look like a school boy!!!” So much for keeping mother happy!!!
It did not require me much time to figure out the change. Has mom changed or have circumstances changed that have made her change? She herself blurted it out, "... with this kind of dressing and grooming, how girls will like you..." Aha - mom interesting in me being liked by girls. That was new. And good. As a kid, I always got not so approving looks when I happened to share a story regarding any girl. The moral of the story was, "good boys don't go out with girls." So, at some subtle level it became, "good boys don't groom to impress girls."
And then came college, girls, and friends. Then came work and so on - and I moved on in life. To a stage where I am comfortable in the "mediocrity of my grooming." Well, that phrase actually applies to me. I have had so many friends (both men and women) come up and say, "...why the hell can't you follow what we suggest?" But you see: I am a rebel. The youngest of the 3 kids - what else can you expect? My attitude has fossilised to something like, "...if you like me for my looks and my presence, I don't care a damn about you..." In the process of growing up with my own insecurities, I learnt early on the psychological principle of "compensation." Because I could not make myself "up there" by my looks and grooming ('coz my grooming IQ tends to single digits), I actively worked to gain approval from extra curricular activities. Debating, Writing, Elocutions became my passion. I learnt to "intellectually challenge" peers around. That also provided me a safe play area - especially when it came to girls.
I grew up at a quaint rustic place (it really was rustic back then). So, given that I was not sophisticated and as I moved to various cities in progressive stages of "hep-ness", I too learnt to sharpen my defense mechanisms that provided me acceptance from peers and others. With time, I've learnt to accept my own inadequacies; and this is a journey that will continue for the rest of life. I've found that there never ever is a stage where I've been able to say, "I've ironed out myself and I am ok." Every time I see myself saying that, the universe conspires to create a meltdown (like a nuclear meltdown) and I am back to square one. So as I move towards "wholeness", I find that I have chosen consciously different approaches to different things. In some areas, I strive to excel and better myself. In other, I've chosen to let go and not try to keep up with the Joneses.
Grooming (beyond the point of personal hygiene and basic decorum) is one such area where I've given up. I mean I just find it plain silly to fret over what I consider the smaller things of life. I like things of utility - bless my professor who administered MBTI (Myers Briggs Type Indicator - look it up in the net) and gave me another excuse to comfort myself. Being an INTJ, I look for utility in things. So my choice of specs is based on utility. I like to read; so when I am home (post work or on weekends), I like to lie down and enjoy a good read. You can't have some slender delicate sophisticated frames. You need sturdy, durable and flexible frames. I had one rimless specs earlier, but the trauma they went through coz of my lying down and reading ensured a very small lifeline for them. So when my ophthalmologist changed the numbers, I took that as a God sent opportunity and promptly changed my specs. They've been faithful for a year now and on occasions I've even managed to put some of my weight on them. They are now part of my identity and utility.
And my mother wants to take that away!!! No wonder I felt so insecure. Then followed a dialogue with her. My mother thinks I am now of a “marriageable” age - which I am for quite a while. But now she is concerned and worried. So every little thing matters. She (of all the people, mum) gave me a lecture on how one should keep up with changing times and how she “knows” (from newspapers and page 3) that girls these days don't like guys who wear specs which make them look "studious / professor". Gee - I just wished my mum asked me to carry a condom in my pocket ;-) But sigh – that advice has not yet come :-( Then followed another chapter and verse on the importance of having a good haircut. It is true - and I admit to it - that many a time, I take a while to go and get a haircut. Its not laziness - or maybe it is. If you spend 3.5 hours a day traveling to work and back and work for 12 hours every day, who the hell wants to get a haircut done on a weekend!!! Consider (if you wish to) that as an excuse, but I do ensure that I don't look like Andre Aggasi ever (when he had the pony tail). So why the hullabaloo?
Sometimes, I realise that I am obstinate to the point of cussedness in these matters. I just find a great amount of joy like Calvin in harassing the harried person in front of me who considers this very meaningful. A friend of mine shared with me her first impressions of me - not so flattering though. We had met at a workshop and she told me that by day 2, she could predict what I would be wearing when she would see me next. Well, no smart guesses. For a week long workshop, I had taken 3 T-shirts and 2 jeans. My logic of utilitarianism: "Why on earth do you have the laundry service in a hotel? And if I am to spend 8 hours inside a room in a lab, why should I carry trunk full of clothes?" To add icing to this cake of logic, “travel light!” What I did not share with her is that half of my suitcase was filled with books – so where the space was for clothes?
We are good friends now. And that is exactly my point. She did accept me for who I am and not how I groom. This provides me enough fodder to stick to my guns and not attempt the painful (to me at least) process of re-orienting the brain to pay attention to such matters. After all, how much can a human brain handle!!!
Thank heavens, my mother has not yet thought of what some of my colleagues and friends tell me. "Shave off your mustache." One day I was quite taken aback by this comment from a colleague. She told me that I needed to become more "hep". Pat came the tongue in cheek reply from me after which I experienced her as a slab of ice frozen in Pleistocene era, "will you give me a kiss if I shaved off my mustache!!!" Soon she laughed it off and said, "...not me, but maybe someone else will."
"MAYBE". You mean to say that I should remove my mustache in the hope of getting a smooch from some hot nubile babe. And ‘hope’. Sigh – might as well live the current reality than hope!!! Well, as I said, I've been a rebel. If a girl does not like me the way I am, too bad. But if things do work out, I would be glad to hand over expertise of professional grooming to her (assuming that she has a better sense than I have – which usually is the case). After all, it is my Achilles heel and I do need some help in that area. Will I accept it from everyone - maybe not. Will I take it from my girlfriend - why not, if that is what makes her happy. But should I do all this in order to get a girl - no, thank you. Maybe I feel scared. Scared that if a girl likes me for my grooming and looks, she may not really appreciate me for who I am. So I follow the reverse psychology: show the worst of yourself and if they like you still, then you can become normal and better.
All these thoughts were going up in my head, when I heard mum say once again,
"...change your specs..."
That shook me up. I had heard this before, but this time round it was different - it came from my mother (once again). And it came more as an “insistent pleading directive.” Yes, that sounds oxymoronic, but there was a sense of pleading, as if, "why don't you please do this for me?" At the same time, it was a bit authoritative, just like parents do when they really want to say, "I am saying this for your own good and so do it."
Well, I realise that times have changed. My being has changed. My equations have changed. Of course, what's the big deal? Things change with time. But some things don't change - or so I had assumed. And that is the mother - son relationship. That my mother would suddenly be interested in how I look, how I groom and preen myself is something new to me. I had never experienced that aspect of her.
In fact, while growing up, it was quite to the contrary. Spending more than half a minute in front of the mirror aroused her curiosity (and I guess some suspicion that I was dating girls) that led her to "innocently" comment, "you take quite a while in front of the mirror". And as if to discourage the behaviour, the stereotyping was completed with, "...just like girls." And this when in my whole of school days, I must never have stood in front of a mirror ever for more than 2 minutes at any given point of time.
But this is new to me. Suddenly, I found my mother different. She has a view on my clothes, accessories, and my grooming. Not the regular types that mums have, "have you had a bath" etc. Usually with boys, mums have this issue. This is not the issue I talk about. She can’t find fault with my personal hygiene. Well, let me share some examples. "So do you use the ‘Tabac’ Eau-de-Cologne that your sister gifted you?" Or, “which perfume do you use?” Weird - mum never asked such things. Or something like, "...that's not quite a combination…" referring to the North-South looks of my pant and shirt.
I am partially colour blind (I am not joking - I take a friend along for shopping). To add to it, I have not yet mastered the art of matching colours. So usually I stick to the solid colours. Of course white and black / blue are eternal matches. I mean, I just find it so difficult. I must confess that I've given up. I don't really care now except for ensuring that I am "by and large" ok. When it is some important occasion / meeting, I will ensure that I land up in black/blue and white - it just helps me skirt the whole issue of ‘making a choice’. Maybe I don't want to learn - well, not maybe, definitely. I just find it too boring and complex. My mind stops working. My heart beat increases as soon as I see multiple colour dresses - how on earth does one figure out the combination. I feel like a rat in a maze who has no clue of his / her surroundings when it comes to these issues. And so I console myself by saying that it is a man thing; finally, I have this excuse of colour blindness (God bless)!!!
So coming back to my surprise when my mother had a view on it. As a kid, she did have a view, but on most occasions, it was she who simply decided what we'd wear when going out of home for an occasion. I took that for granted - sigh, life was so simple (at least in that context). But now it’s all on my own. The other day we were to go and meet an acquaintance of ours. I put on a kurta and jeans and found my mother's piercing eyes examining me from head to toe. A volley of questions followed.
Post which an inquisition on not having had a hair cut. Just to pacify her and not give her the opportunity to pounce on me to have my specs changed, I went out and got one. In military strategy parlance, I did not want to be attacked on multiple fronts. I land up in office the next day and my colleague (a lady) tell me, “…hey, you got a ‘crew’ cut done – you look like a school boy!!!” So much for keeping mother happy!!!
It did not require me much time to figure out the change. Has mom changed or have circumstances changed that have made her change? She herself blurted it out, "... with this kind of dressing and grooming, how girls will like you..." Aha - mom interesting in me being liked by girls. That was new. And good. As a kid, I always got not so approving looks when I happened to share a story regarding any girl. The moral of the story was, "good boys don't go out with girls." So, at some subtle level it became, "good boys don't groom to impress girls."
And then came college, girls, and friends. Then came work and so on - and I moved on in life. To a stage where I am comfortable in the "mediocrity of my grooming." Well, that phrase actually applies to me. I have had so many friends (both men and women) come up and say, "...why the hell can't you follow what we suggest?" But you see: I am a rebel. The youngest of the 3 kids - what else can you expect? My attitude has fossilised to something like, "...if you like me for my looks and my presence, I don't care a damn about you..." In the process of growing up with my own insecurities, I learnt early on the psychological principle of "compensation." Because I could not make myself "up there" by my looks and grooming ('coz my grooming IQ tends to single digits), I actively worked to gain approval from extra curricular activities. Debating, Writing, Elocutions became my passion. I learnt to "intellectually challenge" peers around. That also provided me a safe play area - especially when it came to girls.
I grew up at a quaint rustic place (it really was rustic back then). So, given that I was not sophisticated and as I moved to various cities in progressive stages of "hep-ness", I too learnt to sharpen my defense mechanisms that provided me acceptance from peers and others. With time, I've learnt to accept my own inadequacies; and this is a journey that will continue for the rest of life. I've found that there never ever is a stage where I've been able to say, "I've ironed out myself and I am ok." Every time I see myself saying that, the universe conspires to create a meltdown (like a nuclear meltdown) and I am back to square one. So as I move towards "wholeness", I find that I have chosen consciously different approaches to different things. In some areas, I strive to excel and better myself. In other, I've chosen to let go and not try to keep up with the Joneses.
Grooming (beyond the point of personal hygiene and basic decorum) is one such area where I've given up. I mean I just find it plain silly to fret over what I consider the smaller things of life. I like things of utility - bless my professor who administered MBTI (Myers Briggs Type Indicator - look it up in the net) and gave me another excuse to comfort myself. Being an INTJ, I look for utility in things. So my choice of specs is based on utility. I like to read; so when I am home (post work or on weekends), I like to lie down and enjoy a good read. You can't have some slender delicate sophisticated frames. You need sturdy, durable and flexible frames. I had one rimless specs earlier, but the trauma they went through coz of my lying down and reading ensured a very small lifeline for them. So when my ophthalmologist changed the numbers, I took that as a God sent opportunity and promptly changed my specs. They've been faithful for a year now and on occasions I've even managed to put some of my weight on them. They are now part of my identity and utility.
And my mother wants to take that away!!! No wonder I felt so insecure. Then followed a dialogue with her. My mother thinks I am now of a “marriageable” age - which I am for quite a while. But now she is concerned and worried. So every little thing matters. She (of all the people, mum) gave me a lecture on how one should keep up with changing times and how she “knows” (from newspapers and page 3) that girls these days don't like guys who wear specs which make them look "studious / professor". Gee - I just wished my mum asked me to carry a condom in my pocket ;-) But sigh – that advice has not yet come :-( Then followed another chapter and verse on the importance of having a good haircut. It is true - and I admit to it - that many a time, I take a while to go and get a haircut. Its not laziness - or maybe it is. If you spend 3.5 hours a day traveling to work and back and work for 12 hours every day, who the hell wants to get a haircut done on a weekend!!! Consider (if you wish to) that as an excuse, but I do ensure that I don't look like Andre Aggasi ever (when he had the pony tail). So why the hullabaloo?
Sometimes, I realise that I am obstinate to the point of cussedness in these matters. I just find a great amount of joy like Calvin in harassing the harried person in front of me who considers this very meaningful. A friend of mine shared with me her first impressions of me - not so flattering though. We had met at a workshop and she told me that by day 2, she could predict what I would be wearing when she would see me next. Well, no smart guesses. For a week long workshop, I had taken 3 T-shirts and 2 jeans. My logic of utilitarianism: "Why on earth do you have the laundry service in a hotel? And if I am to spend 8 hours inside a room in a lab, why should I carry trunk full of clothes?" To add icing to this cake of logic, “travel light!” What I did not share with her is that half of my suitcase was filled with books – so where the space was for clothes?
We are good friends now. And that is exactly my point. She did accept me for who I am and not how I groom. This provides me enough fodder to stick to my guns and not attempt the painful (to me at least) process of re-orienting the brain to pay attention to such matters. After all, how much can a human brain handle!!!
Thank heavens, my mother has not yet thought of what some of my colleagues and friends tell me. "Shave off your mustache." One day I was quite taken aback by this comment from a colleague. She told me that I needed to become more "hep". Pat came the tongue in cheek reply from me after which I experienced her as a slab of ice frozen in Pleistocene era, "will you give me a kiss if I shaved off my mustache!!!" Soon she laughed it off and said, "...not me, but maybe someone else will."
"MAYBE". You mean to say that I should remove my mustache in the hope of getting a smooch from some hot nubile babe. And ‘hope’. Sigh – might as well live the current reality than hope!!! Well, as I said, I've been a rebel. If a girl does not like me the way I am, too bad. But if things do work out, I would be glad to hand over expertise of professional grooming to her (assuming that she has a better sense than I have – which usually is the case). After all, it is my Achilles heel and I do need some help in that area. Will I accept it from everyone - maybe not. Will I take it from my girlfriend - why not, if that is what makes her happy. But should I do all this in order to get a girl - no, thank you. Maybe I feel scared. Scared that if a girl likes me for my grooming and looks, she may not really appreciate me for who I am. So I follow the reverse psychology: show the worst of yourself and if they like you still, then you can become normal and better.
All these thoughts were going up in my head, when I heard mum say once again,
"...change your specs..."
Muse | On being single and exploring sexuality | 20th Feb. '10
“How does one explore sexuality whilst being single?”
Well, an odd question. And I can’t help but ask it - at 11.30 in the night. I guess only because I am single, I can get to ask this question at this odd hour. To which the question I need to explore first is, “What does it mean to be single?”
A good friend of mine, now married for a while, shares sometimes with me how his life has changed post marriage. On how he juggles between sleeping, pretense of being asleep and listening to his wife who is ready to handle him after a good afternoon siesta (she’s a housewife). In the past 1 year, I’ve seen him change. Earlier, he would get some whacky ideas at midnight and off he would shoot a text message to me and other single friends. Now I hear a silence! Naturally, things change.
But coming back to me – I am actually questioning as to why am I still single? What’s the trigger? Actually, I am very angry right now. I was online and met a friend of mine who asked me something that triggered it off. A few hours ago, I had updated my facebook status to something like, “…feel content – found my first love in school…” You see, I had finally managed to meet my first love. A cute girl in 2nd grade who had taken me under her wings as I moved to the new class without friends. For some reasons (beyond the scope of this blog), I had moved directly to 2nd grade from Upper Kinder Garden skipping 1st grade. Obviously, I was miserable and had no friends. This girl made friends with me and I used to hang out with her during lunch time. She just made me feel me – accepted me when no other kid spoke with me. I was a shy kid – very reserved for most of my school life. In some ways, I still am reserved. But talking of school and that time, I was mortified on not having friends and she was my saviour. All my life, I had carried this sense of gratitude for her and a sense of warm affection. Which is why she was / and is my first love. Through social networking I met her again. And we realized that we had both known each other as grown ups too for the past 3 years – how little interest do we take in the other!!!
Oh – ok, as usual, I’ve wandered, so coming back. This friend of mine (who had read my status on facebook) wrote to me on chat – hope it is a girl!!! What the heck. Just because I am single, does it mean, you will come and question my sexual preferences? A part of me asks me as to why am I so touchy? And in fact, at one point of time, someone did ask me that question. I must confess that I carry with me a sense of anger on being judged. Yes, I do feel let down in allowing others to judge me – and more importantly, in letting myself get swayed by those judgments. But I am a human being. I have my own frailties and soft spots. I feel scared and afraid of expressing them – and I am aware that this is my blog, it would be in public domain soon. But will I be free – if I am scared of what you feel upon reading this? No, I won’t; so inspite of knowing that I may be judged and I would have to deal with those feelings later on, I will write on. What you feel is your feeling – don’t project on me; and I’m learning not to introject.
Quite a few times in the past – while growing up through college years and beyond (in early working life) – I had experiences that left a sad taste in my mouth. I am slow in building relationships – that is just who I am. I tried changing myself, but I’ve found that it has not helped me. I like my own pace of building and maintaining relationships. I realized that when I tried to change what I was deep down, it was a charade. I needed to be me – and so I decided to trust my own instincts and not judge myself for not being ‘social’. A couple of women had asked me point blank, ‘… are you gay…?’ Well, let me share that I have nothing against anyone’s sexual preferences / orientation. In fact, in my early working life, I’ve shared room as a boarder with a friend who had a homosexual orientation. He was actually a very honest guy and from him I learnt to be empathetic to the other person and respect the person for what he or she is and not his/her sexual preference. Both of us learnt what respect means. And I define it as: the ability to be with and for each other and remain non-judgmental despite knowing the contra preferences of the other while managing boundaries of self and other...
So coming back to the times I’ve heard this question in various shades – questions on my sexual preference. Sometimes, I’ve asked them as to why they got so moved to ask me the question. To which the most common reply has been a variant of: well, you’re young and single and don’t chase girls. As if underneath that is the statement, ‘…we expect you to and if you don’t something is wrong with you…’ Sometimes, I’ve felt like replying back, “…why, do you wanna jump in bed with me and so want to test me out – do you want me to chase you – is that your fantasy?” On most occasions, I’ve ignored it. But I have indeed felt hurt. As if it is a crime to be single.
At the same time, I also guess in some ways, that question has opened up something that I’ve not been able to close on my own – and that is about exploration of my sexuality. Reminded of a woman who had told me once, ‘…how can you be with yourself unless you give yourself to another?’ She was explaining her stance of asking me the question about my sexual orientation. I can see that underneath my anger and resentment lies a hurt – that perhaps she too has a point of view. Her view may not be complete and it perhaps requires both of our views to co-exist. The Yin and the Yan.
Let me handle the easy part first. What does it mean to be single? To me it means the ability to be. The joy of taking care of my own self – the narcissistic delight of loving and pampering myself! The freedom to do what I wish to. The joy of being a vagabond. The pleasure of dating multiple women at a time – without either one realizing ;-) The ability to sit back on a Saturday late night and write a blog. The freedom to be with myself and read. The joy of meditating.
At the same time, I must admit, being single also means a lot of other things. On occasions, it means loneliness. The pine and yearning to hold a woman (other than a mother or a sister or a friend) who you can call (to whatever extent) your own. The helplessness on being with my own feelings of vulnerability or intense joy and searching for someone to share them with in that moment (so that they remain significant).
The other question that I’ve asked (or am asking myself) is about exploration of sexuality. How does one explore sexuality despite being single? To a certain extent, given the word, there is no going back that it is connected to the 3 letter word ‘sex’. But the question that then crops up is, ‘what is sexuality?’ Obviously, sexuality is not about the act of sex. To me, it is about a quest for inner self. Is it about an exploration with another being or it is about exploration of my own inner self with the other person as the instrument? Is it not about coming face to face with the rawness of my own nakedness – the fantasies, desires, vulnerabilities, fears in the deepest recess of me? And if that is so, would not this coming to terms with happen in presence of another? Is it possible (theoretically even) to come to terms with it on your own? Men of God (the monks et. al.) may perhaps do it – but even for them, there is the other. The Lord is the other for them. For mortals like me, it necessarily means another person – depending on your orientation a man or a woman.
In some ways, I do see merit in what the woman was telling me – I can’t explore myself completely without surrendering to another. And that is scary. It means giving up the meaning of being single. And till such time, I find someone, the question remains, ‘how does one explore sexuality whilst being single?’
Well, an odd question. And I can’t help but ask it - at 11.30 in the night. I guess only because I am single, I can get to ask this question at this odd hour. To which the question I need to explore first is, “What does it mean to be single?”
A good friend of mine, now married for a while, shares sometimes with me how his life has changed post marriage. On how he juggles between sleeping, pretense of being asleep and listening to his wife who is ready to handle him after a good afternoon siesta (she’s a housewife). In the past 1 year, I’ve seen him change. Earlier, he would get some whacky ideas at midnight and off he would shoot a text message to me and other single friends. Now I hear a silence! Naturally, things change.
But coming back to me – I am actually questioning as to why am I still single? What’s the trigger? Actually, I am very angry right now. I was online and met a friend of mine who asked me something that triggered it off. A few hours ago, I had updated my facebook status to something like, “…feel content – found my first love in school…” You see, I had finally managed to meet my first love. A cute girl in 2nd grade who had taken me under her wings as I moved to the new class without friends. For some reasons (beyond the scope of this blog), I had moved directly to 2nd grade from Upper Kinder Garden skipping 1st grade. Obviously, I was miserable and had no friends. This girl made friends with me and I used to hang out with her during lunch time. She just made me feel me – accepted me when no other kid spoke with me. I was a shy kid – very reserved for most of my school life. In some ways, I still am reserved. But talking of school and that time, I was mortified on not having friends and she was my saviour. All my life, I had carried this sense of gratitude for her and a sense of warm affection. Which is why she was / and is my first love. Through social networking I met her again. And we realized that we had both known each other as grown ups too for the past 3 years – how little interest do we take in the other!!!
Oh – ok, as usual, I’ve wandered, so coming back. This friend of mine (who had read my status on facebook) wrote to me on chat – hope it is a girl!!! What the heck. Just because I am single, does it mean, you will come and question my sexual preferences? A part of me asks me as to why am I so touchy? And in fact, at one point of time, someone did ask me that question. I must confess that I carry with me a sense of anger on being judged. Yes, I do feel let down in allowing others to judge me – and more importantly, in letting myself get swayed by those judgments. But I am a human being. I have my own frailties and soft spots. I feel scared and afraid of expressing them – and I am aware that this is my blog, it would be in public domain soon. But will I be free – if I am scared of what you feel upon reading this? No, I won’t; so inspite of knowing that I may be judged and I would have to deal with those feelings later on, I will write on. What you feel is your feeling – don’t project on me; and I’m learning not to introject.
Quite a few times in the past – while growing up through college years and beyond (in early working life) – I had experiences that left a sad taste in my mouth. I am slow in building relationships – that is just who I am. I tried changing myself, but I’ve found that it has not helped me. I like my own pace of building and maintaining relationships. I realized that when I tried to change what I was deep down, it was a charade. I needed to be me – and so I decided to trust my own instincts and not judge myself for not being ‘social’. A couple of women had asked me point blank, ‘… are you gay…?’ Well, let me share that I have nothing against anyone’s sexual preferences / orientation. In fact, in my early working life, I’ve shared room as a boarder with a friend who had a homosexual orientation. He was actually a very honest guy and from him I learnt to be empathetic to the other person and respect the person for what he or she is and not his/her sexual preference. Both of us learnt what respect means. And I define it as: the ability to be with and for each other and remain non-judgmental despite knowing the contra preferences of the other while managing boundaries of self and other...
So coming back to the times I’ve heard this question in various shades – questions on my sexual preference. Sometimes, I’ve asked them as to why they got so moved to ask me the question. To which the most common reply has been a variant of: well, you’re young and single and don’t chase girls. As if underneath that is the statement, ‘…we expect you to and if you don’t something is wrong with you…’ Sometimes, I’ve felt like replying back, “…why, do you wanna jump in bed with me and so want to test me out – do you want me to chase you – is that your fantasy?” On most occasions, I’ve ignored it. But I have indeed felt hurt. As if it is a crime to be single.
At the same time, I also guess in some ways, that question has opened up something that I’ve not been able to close on my own – and that is about exploration of my sexuality. Reminded of a woman who had told me once, ‘…how can you be with yourself unless you give yourself to another?’ She was explaining her stance of asking me the question about my sexual orientation. I can see that underneath my anger and resentment lies a hurt – that perhaps she too has a point of view. Her view may not be complete and it perhaps requires both of our views to co-exist. The Yin and the Yan.
Let me handle the easy part first. What does it mean to be single? To me it means the ability to be. The joy of taking care of my own self – the narcissistic delight of loving and pampering myself! The freedom to do what I wish to. The joy of being a vagabond. The pleasure of dating multiple women at a time – without either one realizing ;-) The ability to sit back on a Saturday late night and write a blog. The freedom to be with myself and read. The joy of meditating.
At the same time, I must admit, being single also means a lot of other things. On occasions, it means loneliness. The pine and yearning to hold a woman (other than a mother or a sister or a friend) who you can call (to whatever extent) your own. The helplessness on being with my own feelings of vulnerability or intense joy and searching for someone to share them with in that moment (so that they remain significant).
The other question that I’ve asked (or am asking myself) is about exploration of sexuality. How does one explore sexuality despite being single? To a certain extent, given the word, there is no going back that it is connected to the 3 letter word ‘sex’. But the question that then crops up is, ‘what is sexuality?’ Obviously, sexuality is not about the act of sex. To me, it is about a quest for inner self. Is it about an exploration with another being or it is about exploration of my own inner self with the other person as the instrument? Is it not about coming face to face with the rawness of my own nakedness – the fantasies, desires, vulnerabilities, fears in the deepest recess of me? And if that is so, would not this coming to terms with happen in presence of another? Is it possible (theoretically even) to come to terms with it on your own? Men of God (the monks et. al.) may perhaps do it – but even for them, there is the other. The Lord is the other for them. For mortals like me, it necessarily means another person – depending on your orientation a man or a woman.
In some ways, I do see merit in what the woman was telling me – I can’t explore myself completely without surrendering to another. And that is scary. It means giving up the meaning of being single. And till such time, I find someone, the question remains, ‘how does one explore sexuality whilst being single?’
Friday, February 19, 2010
Muse | 19th Feb. '10 | On Relationships
An afternoon question that nags me and here am I sitting and writing. Yes – a Friday afternoon that one thinks is associated with TGIF (Thank God, Its Friday). Personally, I’ve never really understood the concept. For a Friday afternoon only heralds the coming of the next day.
Coming back to where I am. Am actually in a phase of deep cogitation… A friend and colleague of mine this morning remarked, “…don’t think so much…”; she takes my face book messages as indicators of my existential reality. Well, in some ways, they indeed reflect what I feel within; but then am I not eligible to be what I am? Or what I feel?
I don’t want to get into the bit about “what / who am I”. Go to the philosophers for that or religious preceptors for that. Not to me. But yes, I am in quest. My blog name says it all; and the quest is different. It could be for a thing, a person, an idea, an abstract concept, an image of self or other – the list goes on.
Right now I am examining my relationships. Of late, I’ve become superstitious. I use the word in the sense of a belief or extra attention to synchronistic occurrences. One can debate the idea of synchronicity, but right now for a change, I am with my heart. For the uninitiated, synchronicity is about examination of near simultaneous occurrence of two events that are acausally related and yet are linked with each other. Carl Jung (to the best of my knowledge) was the first one who extensively worked on it in scientific manner (whatever that word may mean)! Deepak Chopra in his book, “Synchro Destiny” gives multiple examples.
Ok, ok – I do meander a lot. But what the heck – this is my blog!!! Well, I am reflecting on relationships. It started off sometime (means a fortnight or so) ago when the inevitable question cropped up from my mother, “so what about marriage?” I’d once written a long blog on marriage; but what I’ve been thinking about is about relationships? The past 2 days has seen me receive forwards on “relationships” like never before. They provide different and interesting perspectives – some find favour with me while others seem pedestrian bookish discourse.
What does relationship mean to me? Logically, a relationship cannot exist standalone. It needs two or more. Let me get into it a bit deeper – so let me google it out. Got an interesting take, at the site: http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=relation which goes thus:
relationship
1744, "sense of being related," from relation + -ship. Specifically of romantic or sexual relationships by 1944.
Let me see what it has to say about “relation”
relation
late 14c., from Anglo-Fr. relacioun, O.Fr. relacion (14c.), from L. relationem (nom. relatio) "a bringing back, restoring," from relatus (see relate). Meaning "person related by blood or marriage" first attested c.1500. Stand-alone phrase no relation "not in the same family" is attested by 1930.
So, where am I: back to square one – the etymology has not really helped. So I will go ahead using the word in the way I understand it viz. building the ‘ship’ of ‘relations’. And for me a relation is about the investment made in order to build / sustain / nurture a sense of emotional connect with the other. And that other could be any thing or any one.
You may ask what am I looking for? Well, I am looking for a relationship – a means of relating to myself. I see many different aspects and facets of myself. Some that I like and some do not agree with me; yet, they are aspects of me. How do I relate to myself? And what does it really mean to relate to myself? Does it mean relating to my dreams, thoughts, ideas, ambitions, fantasies, wishes, desires, feelings – what else? These are all aspects internal to me – private of me that originate in my being (either at cognitive, emotive, conative or psychic levels). Or does it mean relating to others – to the outside world – to the world of men and women, plants and trees, animals and materials? Actually, all of us relate to both.
But why is it that I find that in my relations I am not there? Or in some cases, the other person is not there? An act of relating pre-supposes an effort on part of self. When I say, “I relate”, I am in effect saying that I take responsibility and invest emotionally in…” The only question that nags me now is, “what about the thing / person invested in?” Am I aware of and sensitive to them? When I say that I relate with (say for example) my mother as her son, I am saying that in my eyes she is my mother and assuming that in her eyes I am her son? I will not know the latter till I ask her. So does it mean that a relationship is built on part projection and part assumption? And further, does it imply that to the extent of my assumption and projection, it is not based on what the reality is / could be, but on what / how I perceive it?
To clarify that muddle: Do I love my mother for who she is or for my perception of who she is? The same goes for any relation (and we talk of persons here). Does it mean that I relate with the person or my idea of / about that person? In all honesty, I must confess, that in many of my relationships (with family, friends et. al.), I relate to my idea of them. In that sense, I am not fully aware to their world, to their reality and to them. With both conscious and unconscious projection, I impose my view on them – on the idea of who / what they should and can be.
And if that is so, “do I really have relationships and what do they mean to me?”
Coming back to where I am. Am actually in a phase of deep cogitation… A friend and colleague of mine this morning remarked, “…don’t think so much…”; she takes my face book messages as indicators of my existential reality. Well, in some ways, they indeed reflect what I feel within; but then am I not eligible to be what I am? Or what I feel?
I don’t want to get into the bit about “what / who am I”. Go to the philosophers for that or religious preceptors for that. Not to me. But yes, I am in quest. My blog name says it all; and the quest is different. It could be for a thing, a person, an idea, an abstract concept, an image of self or other – the list goes on.
Right now I am examining my relationships. Of late, I’ve become superstitious. I use the word in the sense of a belief or extra attention to synchronistic occurrences. One can debate the idea of synchronicity, but right now for a change, I am with my heart. For the uninitiated, synchronicity is about examination of near simultaneous occurrence of two events that are acausally related and yet are linked with each other. Carl Jung (to the best of my knowledge) was the first one who extensively worked on it in scientific manner (whatever that word may mean)! Deepak Chopra in his book, “Synchro Destiny” gives multiple examples.
Ok, ok – I do meander a lot. But what the heck – this is my blog!!! Well, I am reflecting on relationships. It started off sometime (means a fortnight or so) ago when the inevitable question cropped up from my mother, “so what about marriage?” I’d once written a long blog on marriage; but what I’ve been thinking about is about relationships? The past 2 days has seen me receive forwards on “relationships” like never before. They provide different and interesting perspectives – some find favour with me while others seem pedestrian bookish discourse.
What does relationship mean to me? Logically, a relationship cannot exist standalone. It needs two or more. Let me get into it a bit deeper – so let me google it out. Got an interesting take, at the site: http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=relation which goes thus:
relationship
1744, "sense of being related," from relation + -ship. Specifically of romantic or sexual relationships by 1944.
Let me see what it has to say about “relation”
relation
late 14c., from Anglo-Fr. relacioun, O.Fr. relacion (14c.), from L. relationem (nom. relatio) "a bringing back, restoring," from relatus (see relate). Meaning "person related by blood or marriage" first attested c.1500. Stand-alone phrase no relation "not in the same family" is attested by 1930.
So, where am I: back to square one – the etymology has not really helped. So I will go ahead using the word in the way I understand it viz. building the ‘ship’ of ‘relations’. And for me a relation is about the investment made in order to build / sustain / nurture a sense of emotional connect with the other. And that other could be any thing or any one.
You may ask what am I looking for? Well, I am looking for a relationship – a means of relating to myself. I see many different aspects and facets of myself. Some that I like and some do not agree with me; yet, they are aspects of me. How do I relate to myself? And what does it really mean to relate to myself? Does it mean relating to my dreams, thoughts, ideas, ambitions, fantasies, wishes, desires, feelings – what else? These are all aspects internal to me – private of me that originate in my being (either at cognitive, emotive, conative or psychic levels). Or does it mean relating to others – to the outside world – to the world of men and women, plants and trees, animals and materials? Actually, all of us relate to both.
But why is it that I find that in my relations I am not there? Or in some cases, the other person is not there? An act of relating pre-supposes an effort on part of self. When I say, “I relate”, I am in effect saying that I take responsibility and invest emotionally in…” The only question that nags me now is, “what about the thing / person invested in?” Am I aware of and sensitive to them? When I say that I relate with (say for example) my mother as her son, I am saying that in my eyes she is my mother and assuming that in her eyes I am her son? I will not know the latter till I ask her. So does it mean that a relationship is built on part projection and part assumption? And further, does it imply that to the extent of my assumption and projection, it is not based on what the reality is / could be, but on what / how I perceive it?
To clarify that muddle: Do I love my mother for who she is or for my perception of who she is? The same goes for any relation (and we talk of persons here). Does it mean that I relate with the person or my idea of / about that person? In all honesty, I must confess, that in many of my relationships (with family, friends et. al.), I relate to my idea of them. In that sense, I am not fully aware to their world, to their reality and to them. With both conscious and unconscious projection, I impose my view on them – on the idea of who / what they should and can be.
And if that is so, “do I really have relationships and what do they mean to me?”
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Muse | What is a Question | 14 Feb. '10
What is a Question? Aah - what a question, I thought to myself. As I sat this morning (13th actually) spending some time with myself, this thought cropped up. And ever since has bothered me. I tried doing many things, but have not been able to come to terms with it. So late night, I sit here - writing this blog. And its 14th morning. Wish you all a very happy Valentine's Day.
Ok - so what I just say, "...come to terms..." But are you not supposed to "answer" a "question"? Let me see what the dictionary has to say. And the prize goes to Wikipedia!!! (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Question) for the answer (searched on 14th Feb. '10 at 0005 hrs.):
"A question may be either a linguistic expression used to make a request for, or else the request itself made by such an expression. This information is provided with an answer.
Questions are normally put or asked using interrogative sentences. However they can also be put by imperative sentences, which normally express commands: "Tell me what two plus two is"; conversely, some expressions, such as "Would you pass the salt?", have the grammatical form of questions but actually function as requests for action, not for answers, making them allofunctional. (A phrase such as this could, theoretically, also be viewed not merely as a request but as an observation of the other person's desire to comply with the request given.)"
{I do hope this does not constitute a violation of copyright laws - does it (now that is a question too)?}
So does that help me? Well, it "defines" what a question is - but does it tell me what a question really is? Is that splitting hair or is it really about getting into it? Now this is a question too? But do you sense what I sense? Do you feel what I feel? Does it communicate what I am trying to do so hard viz. communicate? Does it bring to you the sense of frustration I experience in not being able to find what I seek? If it does, then, to me that is a question - right here, right now. So I can see that for me, a question really is something that has an emotional valence (I guess I'm borrowing this word from Freud - or was is someone else?).
What is emotional valence (in this context). It is about the underlying feeling - of non-completion that propels me to ask what I want to. It is that urgent call that a sensitive friend responds to. Underneath the articulation, you connect to me - with my vulnerabilities / frailties / sensitivities. You experience empathy. Unless it elicits something like that in you, would it really be a question? For how can a question gain its legitimacy without the voice of someone who articulates. And that voice is a quest.
You see, to me a question then is not necessarily an issue of syntax. Yes, grammatically, a question is something to which you give an answer. But is a question really that? Or is it the first of the many stages of enquiry? An enquiry into something that is not known or held in the immediate present (immediate - in this moment) realm of know-how (or something we can call "consciousness") of the person who seeks? By that statement, I also imply that a question pre-supposes a seeker. Or rather it provides for the existence of a seeker.
Can a question exist without a seeker? Even if you ask my question and say that is Mr. X's question, you would be able to attribute the question to me - I suppose so. And I am thus the seeker. So what existed first? The question or the seeker? I think it was JK who said what runs in my head right now.
Come to think of it - can a question really exist independent of the seeker? Let us consider this question I just asked. It exists. In black and white. Independent of its own - a few words joined together coherently in an interrogative manner seeking something. It just stares out of the screen - to you the reader (as much as to me - the writer). What did you say, "the writer"? So that means someone wrote it - yes, I did a while ago. So it's existence came into being once I wrote it? What if I just thought and did not write - would it then still not exist? After all, can existence only be defined in what can be written? Surely not. So even in my thoughts, a question can exist.
But that brings me to the next part? Did the thought exist independently? Rene Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am." This is an area for a big debate. So I don't want to get into it - not right now. But I can't help not recollect the Advaita Vedanta epistemological analogy, "When we get up after a sleep, do we ever question as to who slept? Is there ever a doubt that the "I" who woke up is different from the "I" who went to sleep? Is there a continuity or a discontinuity in the experience of that "I" that sleeps and wakes up? That "I" may feel / think many things, but that "I" never fails to experience its non-existence." Taking this reasoning forward the Cartesian doctrine of a thought existing 'a priori' can be rejected.
So if a thought did not exist 'a priori', then can a question exist as such? For after all, what is a question? Is it not a thought? A special form of thought - something that has the note of a search? So, the differentiation between a question and a thought is the degree of emotional valence? The degree to which it causes the one who seeks to move out from within to the without? Because would not a question arise only (and only) if there is nothing within w.r.t. the issue at hand? Let me take a practical example. I know sugar tastes sweet. And if I have sugar with me, do I not know it? Do I go and ask the question, "what is the taste?" No, I don't (not normally). Because, I had the knowledge within, I do not seek outside.
And by a corollary, if I do not have it within, I would seek outside? Or would I not? Is that a right corollary? Let me try to tease that. If I do not have it within, I have two options: seek it or do nothing about it. The latter leads to no activity; while the former does.
What does it mean "to seek"? Is it not a search outside? Outside of what / whom? The taste of sugar is a search on the palate while the query, "does she love me / does she not?" is a search on the mental faculty (that leads to thought) - apart from the word called fantasy!!! So coming back - a seeking implies an activity (be it mental or physical). And that is the hallmark of the emotional valence of a question. Which means that because of the emotional valence, there is bound to be activity by a seeker. That activity could either be mental (non apparent things like thoughts and feelings) or physical (demonstrated observable behaviour).
But I think I am into a contradiction here. The last paragraph is valid IF and only IF we accept the notion that there is a seeker who seeks. The view that thought (and therefore a question) exists 'a priori' is untenable. And that leaves me with two possibilities: a seeker who does nothing and a seeker who seeks. A seeker who does nothing does exactly that - nothing. And because a question distinguishes itself from a thought in terms of its emotional valence and thereby the propelling activity of a search, a seeker must seek (in order to maintain the legitimacy of a "question" to be called a "question").
And if the seeker seeks, and going by what we speak above, the existence of a seeker is independent on its own. And if that is so, what is it that the seeker seeks that which is not present already? For if something exists outside of the seeker, it is an 'a priori' existence. Since I am talking not about matter but only about the special thing called "thought", which cannot exist 'a priori' (ref. above), the case for a seeker seeking outside is redundant.
So that means that I now have no seeker who seeks. This contradicts the paragraph above. After all this "round the mulberry bush", I am left with one question:
"What is a question?"
Ok - so what I just say, "...come to terms..." But are you not supposed to "answer" a "question"? Let me see what the dictionary has to say. And the prize goes to Wikipedia!!! (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Question) for the answer (searched on 14th Feb. '10 at 0005 hrs.):
"A question may be either a linguistic expression used to make a request for, or else the request itself made by such an expression. This information is provided with an answer.
Questions are normally put or asked using interrogative sentences. However they can also be put by imperative sentences, which normally express commands: "Tell me what two plus two is"; conversely, some expressions, such as "Would you pass the salt?", have the grammatical form of questions but actually function as requests for action, not for answers, making them allofunctional. (A phrase such as this could, theoretically, also be viewed not merely as a request but as an observation of the other person's desire to comply with the request given.)"
{I do hope this does not constitute a violation of copyright laws - does it (now that is a question too)?}
So does that help me? Well, it "defines" what a question is - but does it tell me what a question really is? Is that splitting hair or is it really about getting into it? Now this is a question too? But do you sense what I sense? Do you feel what I feel? Does it communicate what I am trying to do so hard viz. communicate? Does it bring to you the sense of frustration I experience in not being able to find what I seek? If it does, then, to me that is a question - right here, right now. So I can see that for me, a question really is something that has an emotional valence (I guess I'm borrowing this word from Freud - or was is someone else?).
What is emotional valence (in this context). It is about the underlying feeling - of non-completion that propels me to ask what I want to. It is that urgent call that a sensitive friend responds to. Underneath the articulation, you connect to me - with my vulnerabilities / frailties / sensitivities. You experience empathy. Unless it elicits something like that in you, would it really be a question? For how can a question gain its legitimacy without the voice of someone who articulates. And that voice is a quest.
You see, to me a question then is not necessarily an issue of syntax. Yes, grammatically, a question is something to which you give an answer. But is a question really that? Or is it the first of the many stages of enquiry? An enquiry into something that is not known or held in the immediate present (immediate - in this moment) realm of know-how (or something we can call "consciousness") of the person who seeks? By that statement, I also imply that a question pre-supposes a seeker. Or rather it provides for the existence of a seeker.
Can a question exist without a seeker? Even if you ask my question and say that is Mr. X's question, you would be able to attribute the question to me - I suppose so. And I am thus the seeker. So what existed first? The question or the seeker? I think it was JK who said what runs in my head right now.
Come to think of it - can a question really exist independent of the seeker? Let us consider this question I just asked. It exists. In black and white. Independent of its own - a few words joined together coherently in an interrogative manner seeking something. It just stares out of the screen - to you the reader (as much as to me - the writer). What did you say, "the writer"? So that means someone wrote it - yes, I did a while ago. So it's existence came into being once I wrote it? What if I just thought and did not write - would it then still not exist? After all, can existence only be defined in what can be written? Surely not. So even in my thoughts, a question can exist.
But that brings me to the next part? Did the thought exist independently? Rene Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am." This is an area for a big debate. So I don't want to get into it - not right now. But I can't help not recollect the Advaita Vedanta epistemological analogy, "When we get up after a sleep, do we ever question as to who slept? Is there ever a doubt that the "I" who woke up is different from the "I" who went to sleep? Is there a continuity or a discontinuity in the experience of that "I" that sleeps and wakes up? That "I" may feel / think many things, but that "I" never fails to experience its non-existence." Taking this reasoning forward the Cartesian doctrine of a thought existing 'a priori' can be rejected.
So if a thought did not exist 'a priori', then can a question exist as such? For after all, what is a question? Is it not a thought? A special form of thought - something that has the note of a search? So, the differentiation between a question and a thought is the degree of emotional valence? The degree to which it causes the one who seeks to move out from within to the without? Because would not a question arise only (and only) if there is nothing within w.r.t. the issue at hand? Let me take a practical example. I know sugar tastes sweet. And if I have sugar with me, do I not know it? Do I go and ask the question, "what is the taste?" No, I don't (not normally). Because, I had the knowledge within, I do not seek outside.
And by a corollary, if I do not have it within, I would seek outside? Or would I not? Is that a right corollary? Let me try to tease that. If I do not have it within, I have two options: seek it or do nothing about it. The latter leads to no activity; while the former does.
What does it mean "to seek"? Is it not a search outside? Outside of what / whom? The taste of sugar is a search on the palate while the query, "does she love me / does she not?" is a search on the mental faculty (that leads to thought) - apart from the word called fantasy!!! So coming back - a seeking implies an activity (be it mental or physical). And that is the hallmark of the emotional valence of a question. Which means that because of the emotional valence, there is bound to be activity by a seeker. That activity could either be mental (non apparent things like thoughts and feelings) or physical (demonstrated observable behaviour).
But I think I am into a contradiction here. The last paragraph is valid IF and only IF we accept the notion that there is a seeker who seeks. The view that thought (and therefore a question) exists 'a priori' is untenable. And that leaves me with two possibilities: a seeker who does nothing and a seeker who seeks. A seeker who does nothing does exactly that - nothing. And because a question distinguishes itself from a thought in terms of its emotional valence and thereby the propelling activity of a search, a seeker must seek (in order to maintain the legitimacy of a "question" to be called a "question").
And if the seeker seeks, and going by what we speak above, the existence of a seeker is independent on its own. And if that is so, what is it that the seeker seeks that which is not present already? For if something exists outside of the seeker, it is an 'a priori' existence. Since I am talking not about matter but only about the special thing called "thought", which cannot exist 'a priori' (ref. above), the case for a seeker seeking outside is redundant.
So that means that I now have no seeker who seeks. This contradicts the paragraph above. After all this "round the mulberry bush", I am left with one question:
"What is a question?"
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Muse | Purpose of Education | 05th Jan. '10
What is the purpose of education? A friend of mine was with me and shared her anxiety over her children’s education. The kids are ready to move to school – to the mad scramble of life. Like that song goes in 3 idiots, ‘…saari umra bhar mar mar ke ji liye – ab to hume jeene do…’
She shared as to how she took the plunge to put her little ones in an alternative education school. A school that teaches that education is not about learning to read and write, but about exploring. Where children for the first 3 years learn to be with nature – with home – with all the things we do at home – with sound, with art, with play. And only later on, do they migrate to learning how to write the A-B-C and the 1-2-3. And se is worried; because, her friends come and ask, ‘Oh, did you get the new counting book? I’ve got different coloured pens for my son so that he develops an interest in writing.’
Upon some probing, I figured out her clarity. When I asked her, ‘What is the purpose of education according to you?’ she replied with, ‘…to be able to find happiness in life…’
And indeed such a fine answer. A few days ago, I too had been thinking something like that. What is education after all? Is it about knowing facts or learning how to find the facts? As JK (most likely) said, ‘I shall not teach you philosophy, but I shall teach you to philosophise.’ Thus, is knowledge education? Is 'knowing' facts, the names and places education? Is thought education? Or is the ability to think education?
If I look back at it, I feel that despite a blessedness of growing up, I still did not grow up educated. I ‘know’ a lot and that is a hindrance to my learning. It is a hindrance to my being. The holistic organismic being that I am. Do I have thoughts? Yes. Do I know how to think? Maybe. Have I learnt how to think and what is the best means of thinking? No. And to that extent, my life is poor. It is limited – by the limitedness of my own knowledge – of my own thoughts.
They say that this would fall under the topic of ‘philosophy of education’. But after all, is learning to learn not the biggest learning of life? And how I wish I was taught that. Today, I feel lucky that I at least have this realization of my ignorance – but the weight of this ignorance lies heavily on me. there is a stage in life, when one learns to question – to question what he/she has and what is considered the given. And is that not the purpose of education – to question the givens and to strive to find your own purpose and meaning.
But is purpose and meaning in life not pre-ordained? To a certain extent? Pre-ordained not necessarily by the cosmic or the divine, but by my own limitations of understanding? And if that is so, then is it not a conundrum – that brings me back to the question, ‘what is the purpose of education?’
She shared as to how she took the plunge to put her little ones in an alternative education school. A school that teaches that education is not about learning to read and write, but about exploring. Where children for the first 3 years learn to be with nature – with home – with all the things we do at home – with sound, with art, with play. And only later on, do they migrate to learning how to write the A-B-C and the 1-2-3. And se is worried; because, her friends come and ask, ‘Oh, did you get the new counting book? I’ve got different coloured pens for my son so that he develops an interest in writing.’
Upon some probing, I figured out her clarity. When I asked her, ‘What is the purpose of education according to you?’ she replied with, ‘…to be able to find happiness in life…’
And indeed such a fine answer. A few days ago, I too had been thinking something like that. What is education after all? Is it about knowing facts or learning how to find the facts? As JK (most likely) said, ‘I shall not teach you philosophy, but I shall teach you to philosophise.’ Thus, is knowledge education? Is 'knowing' facts, the names and places education? Is thought education? Or is the ability to think education?
If I look back at it, I feel that despite a blessedness of growing up, I still did not grow up educated. I ‘know’ a lot and that is a hindrance to my learning. It is a hindrance to my being. The holistic organismic being that I am. Do I have thoughts? Yes. Do I know how to think? Maybe. Have I learnt how to think and what is the best means of thinking? No. And to that extent, my life is poor. It is limited – by the limitedness of my own knowledge – of my own thoughts.
They say that this would fall under the topic of ‘philosophy of education’. But after all, is learning to learn not the biggest learning of life? And how I wish I was taught that. Today, I feel lucky that I at least have this realization of my ignorance – but the weight of this ignorance lies heavily on me. there is a stage in life, when one learns to question – to question what he/she has and what is considered the given. And is that not the purpose of education – to question the givens and to strive to find your own purpose and meaning.
But is purpose and meaning in life not pre-ordained? To a certain extent? Pre-ordained not necessarily by the cosmic or the divine, but by my own limitations of understanding? And if that is so, then is it not a conundrum – that brings me back to the question, ‘what is the purpose of education?’
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