Does the shoes fit?

If you feel you’re knocking on closed doors, keep knocking. But only if they seem to have a window. At least make sure they would look out to see who’s there.

Then persist. For it’s a rare rock that doesn’t break by repeated hammering. Unless you’re not it’s weapon of choice.

Part of the beauty of this idea, this hypothesis of love, is its abstraction. Like water, it takes any shape, any form. Fills wherever it enters, empties whatever it leaves. Like it was never there.

For some, love is like a new idea in an artist’s mind. It takes shape in the head before it does for real on paper.

Sometimes the imagination is much better. At other times, you let go with the flow. Succumb and let your fingers take you to an ethereal creation. You stand back, breathless at what you’ve done.

Don’t be boggled by “what you thought” as opposed to “what it is”. The former will trap you, the later will let you know. And maybe let go.

You guard yourself like an ice bag, that would melt, time and again but never impart with all that it has. You would feel most yourself when frozen.

Unless someone manages to pierce right through. With a gentle hand of course. And then you realise you aren’t losing yourself. You’re just amalgamating into something better.

What you think is a leak, is a part of a higher process of creation. Let’s say you’re a machine. Your beloved laptop. You got to do away with the existing system to upgrade to a higher one. Something’s gotta end for a new one to begin.

Why do we hate endings so much? Why don’t we let things that run out their course, be? Attachment is wonderful till it becomes a leach.

Change. How wonderfully exciting and fearsome at the same time! Next to love, it’s perhaps the only thing that flaunts its oxymoronic capacity.

You guard your heart like a doorman. Watching strictly who passes by. Frisking them for anything they can use against you. For you think you’re precious. Or vulnerable. You are.

But so is everybody. Precious. Irreplaceable. For themselves anyway. Why not then make it a freeway? Let those come that seek to enter. Let those stay that meet your approval.

For everyone else, there’s always a well-spent goodbye. The gentle turning away and gradual fading as opposed to shocking them out of their wits by closing the door on their face, with a thud.

Selfless loving is seldom understood, let alone be appreciated.

Don’t stand with your high horse intimidating the curious eye. Don’t judge before knowing. Or write off before testing. Or succumb without doubting.

It’s a matter of life and death you know. This business of giving your heart to someone. You bestow them the power to enliven you or benumb.

But without love, the existence is merely perfunctory. Even animals exist. Even plants grow and wither. Even machines upgrade. That heart wasn’t given to you just to pump blood.

You’re subconsciously told and drilled to be ordinary, no matter how much they tell you to strive to be not. While the truth is, you’re supposed to move towards being a legend, no matter how much you strive to blend.

Or maybe the heart really was meant to just pump blood. Stupid humans dribbling it off course with their dirty mushy fingers. Then letting the poor heart dangle by their sleeve. But then we evolved into a multitasking race, didn’t we? Let’s explore it’s full potential.

We all take birth and do die. They say it’s the in between that matters.

The in between of being hopeless and hopeful. Of being raised to exultation and dumped into mourning. Between “what if” and “why not”. It’s never the extremes that teach us the survival skills anyway. Ah, the comfort of slinking into oblivion of the in-betweeness.

And then they still ask, why love? Why ain’t I enough? Because you aren’t programmed to be. Because no matter how much you master solitude, you’re slave to your desires.

Howsoever you bask in your self love, you crave appreciation. Some outspokenly. Some in hush hush subtlety. We love being loved.

Why fear a heart ache or a heart break? Do you fear death? Do you not get into your car each day knowing millions of people die in road accidents without it being their fault?

Do you not want to bungee jump or go trekking or scuba diving? Or for the less adventurous ones, visit a foreign land, taste exotic food, drive on an empty road by the sea at night?

We’re tuned differently in degrees, but like those toy soldiers made from a single teaspoon, we originate from the same base.

Find what gives solace to your heart and hold on tight to it. For however they’ve spoilt through over usage of this saying, but the truth is, you do only live once. And you’d die once and for all too.

Live, love, let live.

P.S. These were supposed to be random thoughts and hence probably the lack of any structure. But then I thought, let me put it here. Maybe the shoe fits someone.

Categories: Muddled Thoughts | Tags: | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “Does the shoes fit?

  1. Shoe fits. Awesome.

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