Welcome Home

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine, about her ideal home. She spoke about having a house on the slope of a mountain in Switzerland. She even knew which mountain. I could just imagine it. Waking up in the warmth of your home, with the frost sparkling on your window frame. Sipping a hot cup of coffee, while you watch the sun rise between the peaks of snow capped mountains..

It was picturesque. It made me wonder where I'd want my own ideal home. Its easy to take the ideas from others around you. But then it won't be yours. There would always be something amiss. For making a home, you need to think about what would make you happy, cause that's what a home is about. I imagine myself on a beach in goa, sitting on the sand, just watching the waves crash. I imagine myself wading through the blue lagoon of the islands that dot south-east Asia. I imagine sifting through the sands of Rajasthan, even sifting through the snow on the slopes of Manali.

But I keep coming back to this one image.. Its a rustic villa, I'm sitting in the shade of an olive tree, the frangrance of the soft earth fills me, the slightly moist air brushes past, a glass of wine lies next to me, and I stare out over the cliff into the blue waters of the Adriatic. I think of this, I feel good. I think of this, I feel content. I think of this, I feel at peace. I think of this, I feel at home..

Search

The beckoning of day, glinting off the sandy beach, joined by the sway of the trees. I sit on a chair, fixed is my gaze, searching for something, searching for the light, searching for the end of the night.. I sit still,..., in search of a sunrise..

Rage

Ahh.. What is this rage that comes over me.. It tries to consume me. I fight it. I keep fighting it. But my spirit seems to weaken. There is no strength left to battle this rage.. It slowly takes over me. It unleashes its worst, through me. I feel my mind not working, I feel my heart telling me to stop. I feel that call of a dear one. But its all a mere disturbance in my path of self destruction. Hope fades me. I lose sense of time.. All that remains is that white fire burning within me..

Music

Lose me, lose me in this music, let me lose myself in this music, let me forget my torment, let me forget my pain, let me forget everything. Let me ride the wave, let me plunge into the sea of notes, let me flow. Let me feel the beats, let me feel the pulse, let me feel me..that is music, that is me..

Crazy makes talent.. some of the most talented people, have often been crazy. They have been crazy buggers, just going mad, just losing themselves to a different world. Their world is different because they make it different. They lose sights of the boundaries in our heads. We apply ourselves by forcing our brain, thus being stuck..

We as children are the craziest. We go around, doing all kinds of shit, not giving a crap about whats happening. We turn out great "works of art" when we're kids. We let ourselves go, cause well basically at that age we dont really understand whats happening. We just are ourselves. We hear the folks always talking about how we did this when we were small, we did that when we were small. we did it all. But as we grow older, that sense of understanding comes into picture. The understanding of constraints. constraints set for us. The understanding comes from the world around us. It teaches us while it limits us. we start work, we run around in circles. We follow the grind, and we become the grind. stuck in that, you slow down.

A small part of your brain handles a lot of pressure. It shuts down. That flow of juices to that part shut down. You change, you make changes. Search for that creative streak, you find a shut door. Its got windows, you look inside and make plans on what you'll do when that door opens. But the door remains shut. Cause there are other doors opening and closing. And then, your lost. You search for that door into the realm of a childs dream, but its lost. As older people of the world, we lose that craziness. The stark difference between the world of a child and that of a "grown up" person comes to the basis of our set limitations. Finding that closed door, and prying it open is a must. Cause we are just children, lost in adults.