There are these pangs of despair that teeter between pointlessness & ennui. The two extremities are poles apart (or do they just seem like that? doesn't the former precede the latter?). But isn't it the strangeness of human mind to bring 2 unrelated entities and try to stitch them together with a thread made of human experience?
I sit there, passively lending one of my ears that faces the talker who blows incoherent lumps of words into me. I zone out - literally. It feels as if the talker is saying something that I try to fork out from the crevices of my brain but the space called 'grit' is busy fighting the pointlessness of all of it.
I'd resort to a very cliched maxim here - even the darkest of the clouds have silver linings. They do. Amid such chaotic bouts of striking pointlessness, all that helps me in hanging in there is a faith-filled patience. And it always has paid off.
A synergy of ambition and optimism emerges from each of those dark bouts that breathe in the necessary fuel to go on about life. It could be lending my ear to a welcoming piece of music or a spectacular line from one of the books I read at such times or an insightful offering by one of the regular stops I make on the internet.
Of course, the need to be heard is always there. Incessant that, indeed. Blow back all the gathered melange of thoughts into an ear that sucks everything in & spits out a 'hmm' here and a reassuring smile there.
In such vulnerable moments of that need, I am increasingly finding ways to be more than a man I already am. To deserve the ear I desire.
All in all, through those sporadic fits of existential despair, I am struggling to keep my feet planted. One day, the despair recedes and the firmness of my feet will remain resembling a tree trunk that has been tried and tested. Or I at least hope they will remain.
I sit there, passively lending one of my ears that faces the talker who blows incoherent lumps of words into me. I zone out - literally. It feels as if the talker is saying something that I try to fork out from the crevices of my brain but the space called 'grit' is busy fighting the pointlessness of all of it.
I'd resort to a very cliched maxim here - even the darkest of the clouds have silver linings. They do. Amid such chaotic bouts of striking pointlessness, all that helps me in hanging in there is a faith-filled patience. And it always has paid off.
A synergy of ambition and optimism emerges from each of those dark bouts that breathe in the necessary fuel to go on about life. It could be lending my ear to a welcoming piece of music or a spectacular line from one of the books I read at such times or an insightful offering by one of the regular stops I make on the internet.
Of course, the need to be heard is always there. Incessant that, indeed. Blow back all the gathered melange of thoughts into an ear that sucks everything in & spits out a 'hmm' here and a reassuring smile there.
In such vulnerable moments of that need, I am increasingly finding ways to be more than a man I already am. To deserve the ear I desire.
All in all, through those sporadic fits of existential despair, I am struggling to keep my feet planted. One day, the despair recedes and the firmness of my feet will remain resembling a tree trunk that has been tried and tested. Or I at least hope they will remain.
