Archive for November, 2011

Soul searching: What are we really looking for?

Listen to: Prayer by Eleni Karaindrou

I have always wondered to myself if this hunt ever comes to an end. Though, I never knew what exactly I have been searching for.
Lately, I have been pondering the thought of soul searching and what it really means; is it an endless search for that missing piece of the puzzle, or a changing variable to fill an ever so empty void?

As I try to answer this not so new raised question in the chambers of my thoughts, I find myself caught in a timeless capsule of open conquests with no prey in hand, and no trophy to place on a dusty shelf of accomplishments. I start to pace slowly in this capsule of mine and think of what went wrong – or did nothing ever go wrong but my perception of accomplishments and this soul searching hunt of mine is not well adjusted?

We are all hunters, huntresses in my case, and this life is in fact a virtual game; those games where one builds a character and hunts for little mushrooms and snails to kill in order to level up. The more we level up in this game, the more experience points we gain. Now, I know these games were based on reality – but what if, say, we twist the table and look at life through a virtual game, rather than looking at a virtual game through life?

I mean, everything belongs to this continuous circle. It never ends, it keeps going and whether we like it or not, we keep going as well. Then, if we look at life as though it was the ultimate game, and events as sequenced spins of the same circle, where does that leave us with our so-called soul searching? Does that make us settle for best fit of souls? Or are we in charge of this game, can we slow the pace of this circle? Can we logout whenever we please, or is that the fine line that separates virtual games from reality?

I seem to be proposing far too many questions for a short-lived post like this to answer, but to me, it is rather unanswerable. The idea of soul searching is one I never seem to grasp, because even when I am not searching for a soul, for whatever reason, I find myself discovering minuet alterations of this soul of mine that make all the difference. Does that mean that this soul searching is something implied on us, rather than us wanting it? Or it something we choose to be content with, something we do not mind living with, or something we have grown accustom to?

As I maintain this soul of mine; an introvert of thoughts exteriorized with an extrovert personality of actions, I find it to be troublesome at times, perhaps more often than I would admit. Perhaps, time is the only cure for us to mould into our own wax seat of heaven or hell. Perhaps, the conquest of soul searching is nothing but a fancy concept coined by therapists to bill us with a higher pay the next time we visit them – or when we actually do decide that seeing a therapist is the next key to the puzzle of the hunt of our lives.

Regardless of how much of a variable beings are, the only constant factor is that crave to fill an imaginary inner void that seems to cover light-years of distance. We have repulsed from our interiors so much so that we spend our time trying to make the world a prettier place; our malls become too fancy for flip flops and socks. Our mosques and churches become too architecturally valuable for us to pray in, so we stand in front of them, take pictures, and post them on social networks. Our houses have become too filled with pricey junk of vases, colorful paintings, and big flat screens with overwhelmingly unneeded resolution, just so we can see things clearer.

So we can watch our movies in HD. So we can get the most likes and retweets. So we can feel that we belong to a society that we can always turn to when the soul searching turns out empty. We are too lazy to accept that it is not the hunt that has gone wrong – it is our perception of reality and how idealistically skewed it really is.

How is it, though, that the more beautifully sculpted this world becomes, the uglier it is from within? Why is it too hard to look at a white blank avatar and feel so agitated? What is wrong with nothing but white? What?

Hush

Listen to: Ólafur Arnalds – Near Light (via Fabrizio Paterlini)

Cars carelessly carry cattle corn

People

Falling steeper

And steeper

Magic cut by heartless reapers.

 

Hearts tossed around like dart

Faces fade further than far

Haunted becomes the cattle car

Hush, shish, and shush,

Do not rush, push, or crush,

 

“Hold me tight,” she murmurs,

Tick

Tock

Tick

The clock missed the last tock

 

“Evade me from guilt,” she heaves

Autumn trees have no leaves

Stitch her heart into weaves

Sway her to the music of trees

Bring your knife and start to cleave

 

Salvage her remains for hope,

Unshackle her hands from your rope,

Leaves a distance, she has learned how to cope,

Unchain her from your yoke,

Save her from fate’s joke

 

Creep closer from behind

Listen to wind chimes

Surrender to nature’s rhyme

Let your souls together intertwine

Seek solitude, break every line

 

Hush, shish, and shush,

Do not rush, push, or crush,

Lick your lips like mush

Feel the power of a touch

Absorb the fluids, let them gush

 

Feed the crave with emotion,

Her tenderness casted as a potion,

Kiss her relish to submission,

Twist your limbs to her devotion,

Unease this hidden tension

 

Make no sound,

Cry no tears,

Twirl round and round,

Fear no fears,

The moment is yet to be found

 

Arms rested on shoulders,

Bare shoulders grow warmer,

Tall toes tingle in tremors,

Passion storms veins in thunder,

The mind ceases to wonder,

 

Hush, shish, and shush,

End of thought.

The Paradox of Our Age

Listen to: Autumn week 7 by Fabrizio Paterlini

Seldom do I find quotes that I can relate to. I share plenty of quotes on regular bases, yet only feel touched by quite a few. This, however, is not just a quote to me. It is a reminder. It is a throbbing piece of literature that drives me out of my comfort zone every time I take a little peak at it.

It defines me; the chaos in me. It defines every one of us. I won’t deny I saw scatters of me laid through many of the comparisons in it. I’m not sure if part of how humans evolve is to reverse, but to me it seems that way.

I could not find the original copy of this online, so I took the time to type it down from a piece of paper I wrote back when I was 4thgrade. Ironically, my handwriting then was much more comprehendible than it is now. I guess that’s what university does to a person. As messy as it was then, it was at least cute. Now it’s messy with no excuse.

Anyway, this is my way of celebrating Eid. I read my old diaries and reminisce. I give myself time to discover who I was then, because really, I never knew who I was till my behavior changed into something entirely different. While people celebrate their sad enslaved lives, I celebrate my past. Here’s a reason to change, to be, to become, to break boundaries, to forget that invisible box everyone keeps talking about ever existed; here’s a mind dabble, something to think about over the break; here’s a paradox that forever haunted me, a paradox I could never break from.

The Paradox of Our Age

By Dr. Bob Moorehead

We have taller buildings but shorter tempers; wider freeways but narrower viewpoints; we spend more but have less; we buy more but enjoy it less; we have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, yet less time; we have more degrees but less sense; more knowledge but less judgment; more experts, yet more problems; we have more gadgets but less satisfaction; more medicine, yet less wellness; we take more vitamins but see fewer results. We drink too much; smoke too much, spend too recklessly; laugh too little; drive too fast; get angry quickly; stay up too late; get up too tired; read too seldom; watch TV too much and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values; we fly in faster planes to arrive there quicker, to do less and return sooner; we sign more contracts only to realize fewer profits; we talk too much; love too seldom and lie too often. We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life; we’ve added years to life, not life to years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We’ve conquered outer space, but not inner space; we’ve done larger things, but not better things; we’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul we’ve split the atom, but not our prejudice; we write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less; we make faster planes, but longer lines; we learned to rush, but not to wait; we have more weapons, but less peace; higher incomes, but lowers morals; more parties, but less fun; more food, but less appeasement; more acquaintances, but fewer friends; more effort, but less success. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; drive smaller cars that have bigger problems; build larger factories that produce less. We’ve become long on quantity, but short on quality.

These are times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, but short character; steep in profits, but shallow in relationships. These are times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure and less fun; higher postage, but slower mail; more kinds of food, but less nutrition. These are days of two incomes, but more divorces; these are times of fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, cartridge living, throw-away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies and pills that do everything from cheer, to prevent, quiet or kill. It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stock room. Indeed, these are the times!

Wishing those who celebrate Eid a blessed one, those performing a Haj a safe one, and those in turmoil a chance to sleep sound.