I sit on the same writing table as I have for years. But every time I write; I become a new me, a different me...sometimes a me that even I am not aware of. No, I am not playing with words here. Everyone who writes or speaks from their heart has felt this.
Over the last one year, I have lived mostly through the mind. I have found it to be safe. There are rules to live by. I follow the rules that I have embraced, usually blindly avowed to and feel that I am in control. That if I continue to follow this way of living, nothing bad can happen. The rules are like a casket...ready to protect me in case life throws a surprise.
But then caskets are not fun.
As I read through Zorba's way of life, it seems to cut right through the clutter. He comes alive and tells me that rules and philosophies might make sense to the logical mind but they bind me. He awakens the creative spark that has since long been buried by the mind. Where did the heart go?
An archaeologist rummages through an old mine and finds a statue. He holds it in his hand, caresses it and gently rubs off the dust. The features of the statue become sharper. He finds that the face on the statue is his own. I am the archaeologist. The statue is the me I had buried because I had blamed it for leading me astray. I was angry then. Very angry.
I hug the statue. It feels like discovering an old friend. The hate has lost its edge. The embrace melts off the bitterness. Tears roll down my eyes. I am glad to rediscover a me which I thought had choked and died off.
I want to explore again. I want to take more risks. When I see a woman who tugs at my heart strings, I want to go and tell her just that - even though I saw her moments ago. I want to travel to lands where they can only understand me by the hand signs I make. I want to learn the pakhavaj. I want to be up before every sunrise and watch every sunset. I want to be insanely in love with life again.
“This is true happiness: ..to have the stars above, the land to your left and the sea to your right and to realize of a sudden that in your heart, life has accomplished its final miracle: it has become a fairy tale.” - Zorba the Greek.
Over the last one year, I have lived mostly through the mind. I have found it to be safe. There are rules to live by. I follow the rules that I have embraced, usually blindly avowed to and feel that I am in control. That if I continue to follow this way of living, nothing bad can happen. The rules are like a casket...ready to protect me in case life throws a surprise.
But then caskets are not fun.
As I read through Zorba's way of life, it seems to cut right through the clutter. He comes alive and tells me that rules and philosophies might make sense to the logical mind but they bind me. He awakens the creative spark that has since long been buried by the mind. Where did the heart go?
An archaeologist rummages through an old mine and finds a statue. He holds it in his hand, caresses it and gently rubs off the dust. The features of the statue become sharper. He finds that the face on the statue is his own. I am the archaeologist. The statue is the me I had buried because I had blamed it for leading me astray. I was angry then. Very angry.
I hug the statue. It feels like discovering an old friend. The hate has lost its edge. The embrace melts off the bitterness. Tears roll down my eyes. I am glad to rediscover a me which I thought had choked and died off.
I want to explore again. I want to take more risks. When I see a woman who tugs at my heart strings, I want to go and tell her just that - even though I saw her moments ago. I want to travel to lands where they can only understand me by the hand signs I make. I want to learn the pakhavaj. I want to be up before every sunrise and watch every sunset. I want to be insanely in love with life again.
“This is true happiness: ..to have the stars above, the land to your left and the sea to your right and to realize of a sudden that in your heart, life has accomplished its final miracle: it has become a fairy tale.” - Zorba the Greek.
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