Foothills of solitude

solitude

 

I couldn’t go on this way. I felt unable to think or act. I struggled to reconcile a choice. A choice that I’ve been putting of for months now. I let my true self down. I defeated my instincts and pretended to go against the grain. In the name of keeping low expectations, I knew I had wandered away from things that kept me complete.

 

In my hour of struggle, I tried to calm myself down. It is a little strange that I didn’t perceive it as an act of desperation. It felt like the thing to do. I closed my eyes and decided to give myself a shot. I feel lost. I feel like an imposter. Have I pretended for far too long? I can’t wake myself up and decide to call all of this my world of make believe. I can’t turn the clock back and opt to ‘unbelieve’ the things I’ve accepted into my belief system. In that regard, I feel like an imposter. An imposter who started to fit into a role and was left behind filling into that role even after the last of the curtains fell down.

 

I decided to calm myself down and closed my eyes. Of the blue, I tagged states of emotions to ground with the earth. My fears , symbolized by my root. My desires, by my sacral. My expectations , by my solar plexus. My wishes, by my heart. My ego, by my throat. My dreams , by my third eye. Finally this self, by my crown. One by one, I tried to move the energies to the ground. The trace of light falling on my closed eyes seemed to fade away. I felt engulfed in darkness.

 

This felt contrastingly different. I usually associate dark to the energies and when I try to ground them, I remind myself that I’m refilling myself with light. This time around, the tables were turned. This felt comfortable. This felt right. With the distractions and clutter moving away, the illusion of light seemed to dissipate.

 

Protected in a bubble of white light, I felt secure again. It showed. It felt safe. The thoughts , now called out, there was finally a distinct lack of noise within. It was in this silence where I first observed the pulse of the body. It was disharmonious. It felt like the different parts of the body were vibrating in their own distinct course. It felt like a concert where none of the instruments were in tune or followed a rhythm. I decided to focus on my breathing in hopes of finding a balance.

 

Om Namah, I’d breath in and hold. Shiva ya, I’d breathe out. I didn’t keep track of the changes. I felt an order restored. There felt a balance. The vibrations were now in tune. To what? That I do not know.

 

As I focused on my breathing, in and out, I felt as a fetus; all alone in a vast span. I could arrive at the mistake of calling it as a fetus , all alone in a vast land. While I could perceive it as a desert, I was also sure that it wasn’t one. It was neither barren, nor it felt lush. I couldn’t identify it as a land, or a place. Vast span.

 

I felt the minuscule nature of the fetus that I was when compared to the vastness. I neither felt insignificant nor intimidated by the smallness. It was a moment of acknowledgement. Acknowledgement of what? That I do not know.

 

The feeling remained unshakeable. I opened my eyes after a while. Staying curious, I lingered to see if there was a meaning to it all. I couldn’t articulate the thoughts right into google. I didn’t know what to find. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I stumbled upon a gist on Vipassana. The name, not a coincidence. It was only last week where a colleague of mine spoke to me about it. It spoke of solitude. Not of the body, but of the mind.

 

If there is a sense to my delusion, maybe it’s about the right time to start trying to understand the nature of that solitude. It’s not about being alone or lonely. The solitary mind is at ease, because it’s unaffected – a line from the article.

 

Maybe I got to learn something. Maybe I got lucky. Maybe there is always ample time for all the lessons waiting to be learnt.

 

Karthik

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