Comfort, Chaos and Consciousness.

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Dear Reader,

On this crisp February evening of the new decade, I find myself in yet another turbulent bus ride. Buildings were shimmering in the distance. Their lights flickered methodically:- a message lost in translation. 
As we inched forward, the people behind the wheels seemed to be in a trance, hypnotised by the floating lights that bloomed and faded before them.
A group of people crossing the road abruptly broke that spell. Even in that tiny group of individuals, there was a lot to observe. Some walked briskly with their eyes fixed on the other side of the road. Others broke out in to brief jogs and their gaze shifted from one approaching vehicle to another. As a person who dislikes, but embraces change, this group of jaywalkers made me ponder about how different people handle change. Some judge, assess and predict. Others make the leap of faith. But some choose to remain on the sidelines. Like bystanders, they watch life fly by in streaks and blurs of light.  
My thoughts momentarily wandered like a feather caught in a sudden breeze:- settling downslowly, yet threatening to flutter away at the behest of even the tiniest breath of wind. 

I have opened the doors to these chambers once again, to seek respite from the chaotic noise of the world. 
Although not having control over ‘tomorrow’ frustrates me, sometimes the urge to let go and surrender creeps up on me, just to be quickly chased away by my conscience and fear of consequence.

 But I have come to realise that that ‘static noise’ of mundaneness that continues to buzz incessantly is what helps us cope with the bigger battles that we may be fighting subconsciously or subconsciously. 


We are in a constant search for a method in the madness of our own making. Like crazed creatures in distress, we beg for Novocaine to numb the pain of self-inflicted wounds.

I abruptly become aware of the unpredictable and seemingly unmotivated turns that my train of thought was taking. Even if the walls have ears, they have definitely stopped listening to my aimless ramblings. I think to myself for a brief moment: 
“Has this search for clarity left me muddled and befuddled?”

Although I am a stickler for precision, the world has taught me that searching for definition is futile. Our minds may be an unpleasant tangle of intangible threads, but we still manage to stitch together a life of our own. Then I had to remind myself once again :

Complexity is the price of consciousness. 





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