This is quite characteristic of human experiences: tempting as it may be for enthusiastic philosophers, these experiences struggle to remain un-intellectualize-able (with a self-proclaimed poetic license, I can invent this word). What is simple, will remain simple. You can dampen it with a million and one unintelligible words and pompous theories but a simple emotion, will remain a simple emotion.
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Simple, urgent and yet, unfathomable.
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After worshipping Silence for long, I now have come to feel this deference for Simplicity. With caution, yes, since it lies on a borderline with tradition and blind norms. Half a lifetime spent (if not wasted) within the bowels of witnessing life playing its scandalous tunes. And now, here, the unit of my being stands with starry-eyes, witnessing life’s stroke of miracle.
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A miracle, really.
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How much you end up conveying… when you want no one to know what you are saying. Not even someone. This once, not even someone.
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And then, there is the art of waiting. Though popularly known to be a passive deal, it is really… a bloodless war, where you’d like to shed at least a few drops of blood to have ‘something to show for it’.
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To be able to show-and-tell… “Look!” Poke, poke! “Blood!”
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And then, there are dreams.
So fluid, like the rest of existence.
So flexible, you start wondering if you are just justifying it all for the sake of contemporary happiness. Is happiness really a linear thing, thread-like or encapsulated within moments? Meant to be for a particular instant, dissolving therein? Perhaps simple emotions work that way.
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…But not where God is concerned. In spite of fluctuating Divine Innuendos, happiness in His realm has nothing to do with transience. Encapsulated, yes, but the moment there is eternal. What is so difficult for many to understand … is the connection of aesthetics with God. No, they may understand it, but find it all too nonviable.
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Then, what of divine verses, especially the metaphorical ones… the rhyming ones, the poetic ones… don’t they appeal to aesthetics? Can you not acquaint yourself with Him through that? Aren’t the lives of His messengers poetic? Even their pain and their longing and their words? Their actions…?
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I know there are psychometric scales that measure happiness – filthy idea, with due apologies to those positivists who spent their lives validating such scales. But to put down happiness in metric units, in a figure? They are already working on robots who’d be able to tell what emotion you are feeling simply by looking at you (by recording and monitoring physiological changes in your body). And so, imagine a day when an automated being like that walks up to you… “Good Morning, Mrs. S… 14th of April, 2015, the time as we speak is 10:08 a.m., PST, the weather today is 30 degrees Celsius, your happiness level is 10.4 xyzs, your anger level is 4.2 xyzs …”
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Dream of someone into artificial intelligence: my nightmare.
What crap.
Well, what do you expect…? My pen has wavered…
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