18 Oct 2007

2812

What is it that matters? Lots of choices. Decisions. Desires. Hopes and achievements. Perplexing hopes and dreams. Consistent aspiration. Vision. Many things. Tons and loads of things. But what does really matter? I am not really sure. I am not sure anymore. Maybe I was sure but now not sure. From the many confusions I see in me and around me. Endless chase. Forever will it be endless. Not hoping that it will be better. Not optimistic. Well, does it really matter still? I guess no.

Secured aganist many things with this endless chase behind money and investments. Investement after another. One huge one after the other. More and more. Eyeing for more? I do not know. What money will do if your own inner home is empty and deserted. Inside loneliness. Annoyance. Fragile peace with the existing. More fragile peace with the alternative. What is the use? Invest for what and who and why. All the "W" in the world. For the self? The self will never say enough especially with the emptiness of any other source but the money. I am not convinced that we can say enough to money. We are not supermen and women. We are human. We want more. If we are deprived of some other ornaments, we substitute it with more in one direction. Flood me more with money so that I compensate. We do that unintentionally. We get absorbed by it and decieve ourselves of our deep consciousness of where we are going; of our sense of direction and self assertiveness. But alas, we are lost to that emptiness.

Emptiness of the soul kills it all. Leaves us no space to enjoy. Suffocate any attempt to stop and live. Enhance all attempts to get blinded by the more and the accumulating. I am no more sure if this life matters, or it is only what we can get out of it.

What is the wisdom in all what said and done. Years and years of isolation and loneliness. And the decision is in the hand. I guess if we ruin it when we have choices. We will end up accepting whatever the wind will blow. And when the wind blows, it is not always wind of change. It is wind of submission to what we never wanted. What we need is worth fighting for. Not waiting for a blow. Where is the dignity in that?

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