Midnight Musings.....

1. Have you ever tried meditation?
I have tried to sit still for awhile and relax and try to focus on God. But I have never meditated nor been successful at sitting still and clearing my mind. The only time I have ever come close to clearing my mind is during extreme pain when I had to focus so that it wouldn't hurt so bad. I wish I could.

2. Do you pray?
Yep. I'm not the type who has a specific time I pray or way I pray or place I pray. It's more like a continual conversation. There have been times when I have literally "gotten on my knees" to pray, but it's not an everyday stance I take.

3. Worst nightmare:
I'm not sure it's my worst, but it's definitely reoccurring and is difficult to shake. I dream of spots. A small red spot that grow grows slowly, suffocating me with its hugeness. Grows too big and explodes. Then another Red spot starts. Even in the dream I know I am dreaming. I go :-“ Not that one again.” I wake up in cold sweat. I fall ill the next day.

4. Do trolls live under your bed?
Umm. no. Depends on what you call a ‘troll’.

5. Make a wish:
It's the same one I always make—‘ Dear god, make me intelligent enough to understand that if wishes came true I wouldn't be where I am’. You see, I believe in the eleventh commandment: Thou shant make stupid wishes to God, Thou bugeth Him.

Fear....

Here is something I wrote for a creative writing competition in 12th standard….
It’s a monologue. It portrays the uncertainties of a teenage mind…

Fear

Don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by my face for I wear a mask. A mask I’m afraid to take off. I wear a thousand masks and none of them are me. Pretending an art is second nature to me, so don’t be fooled, for god’s sake don’t be fooled. I give you an impression that I am secured, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without.
That confidence is me name and coolness is my game, that the water is calm and I am in command, I need no one. In truth even a small pebble can create ripples in my mind.

Don’t believe me. Please. My surface is a mask, an ever varying and ever concealing mask. Beneath dwells the real me, in confusion, in fear, in pain. But I hide this. I don’t want anyone to know it. I panic the though of my weakness, and I fear being exposed. That’s why I frantically create a mask t hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated façade to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows. But such a glance is precisely my salvation and I know it.

That glance, if it is followed by acceptance. It is the only thing that will liberate me from myself. From my own self built prison walls, from the barriers that I have so painstakingly erected. Brick by brick. Every act of cowardice has cemented these walls. It is the only thing that can assure me of what I can’t assure myself, that I am really worth something. But I don’t tell you this I don’t dare. I’m afraid to. I’m afraid that your glance will not be followed by acceptance. I’m afraid that you’ll think less of me, that you’ll laugh, and your laugh would kill me. I’m afraid that deep down inside, I’m nothing, that I’m just no good, and you’ll see this and reject me. The mere thought of someone penetrating my mask sends a shiver down my spine. So I play my game with a façade of assurance without and a trembling child within. And so begins the parade of masks, the glittering but empty parade of masks. And my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talks. I tell you everything that is really nothing, and nothing of what’s everything, of what’s crying within me. So when I am talking to you don’t be fooled by what I am saying, but listen to what I am unable to say. I dislike hiding. Honestly, I dislike this superficial game I am playing. This superficial phony game. I’d really like to be genuine, spontaneous me. But you’ve got to help. You alone can break down the walls behind which I tremble. You alone can release me from my shadow world of panic and uncertainty, from my lonely prison. So don’t pass me by. Please. Don’t pass me by. It won’t be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach me, the blinder I may strike you back. Its irrational, but despite what they say about man, I’m irrational. I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I m told that love is stronger than those walls, and in this lies my hope. My only hope. So please try to beat down those walls with firm hand, but with gentle hands. For in there lies a child, and a child is very sensitive.

My first...

Found it in an old note-book. Pretty kiddish…

This is the first poem I wrote, when I was in 10th
Was studying for S.St. paper and nostalgia took over………

As of now, it has no title.


Oh! What life I had as a child,
The fun, the joy, the shrieks all wild.
The days I knew nothing of tension,
Now the boards are worth a mention.

Down all day in the ground to play,
Upon the wet green grass, I lay.
Now I’m studying half asleep in bed,
With History and Geography in my head.

Life of a child is better as aimless,
Now all the aims have made me brainless.
Parents have hope, Teachers give inspiration,
Thinking all this gives me perspiration.

Age has made me tall and wise.
Taught me why a bird up flies.
But it didn’t take my soul any high.
It didn’t teach me how to fly……..


-Amber Nagar

Existanz?

I was reading ‘Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance’ the other day and it got me thinking. What a thing has to do to exist????

Is it something it possesses? Some identifiable characteristic that one remembers, or keeps in his mind. I see a person X. I know he exists, cause I see him. But these are my eyes seeing him, my ears hearing him, my skin telling me something solid is in front of me. These are my senses giving me hints to someone’s existence. Or are they playing games with me? If my senses are cut off from my brain, then?

But this person X is a friend of mine. I’ve known him for quite a while. But not forever. Did he exist before I knew him. He sure did, but not for me! Its all in your head. The gray matter between your ears.

What about concepts then? Concepts exist. Concepts have always been there. Even before somebody had thought of them. Even before there was a ‘somebody’! Just waiting for an eager mind to sort out the web around it. So it flows that you don’t need to have a head pondering over something for it to exist. So it isn’t in your head.

What is it that I have done for you all to recognize my existence?

Ponderable??????

Thoughts......

Ok. So what's the deal with blogging? Everybody seems to be "doing it". And I ain't gonna be a blogger virgin anymore. But whats the point?
Me? Just fun I guess. Or better than writing on good ol' paper.