willingness to change

like a peddler
i walk around
hawking my wares
each morning
i wait
for the day to run scarce

when we live through days, soon enough they turn into months or years and eventually this leads to a stage when we seem different than what we remember ourselves to be. depending on whether we like it or not, we label it either evolution or change (a more colloquial expression for the former would be development).

in certain young communities that i have been social in, change in an individual is said to be brought about due to circumstances or certain docile aspects in one's personality - a pitiable thing in the general conscious. change here, would be a sign of weakness with regards to the ego. for it is in some way represented as a compromise of individuality to a larger social entity or responsibility. a negative but existent trait.

in some other communities, change bears no such great commentary on one's personality and in fact is merely a burdensome exercise which would warrant a sacrifice of heavenly proportions of one's social lineage. its absence is a commonplace phenomenon like sloth or similar mild human features. also, age comes in for a quick rescue in most cases.. and to change would be nearly impossible, owing to the mental exhaustion involved. a fairly superfluous exercise.

development on the other hand is (puzzlingly) sketched to be something completely different. often termed well-read or.. curiously enough, well-paid.. it shares very little vocabulary with change. painted in glorious colours of maturity, it is usually lit up as a tribute to success. and wisdom. a more forgiving differential from what one starts off as - a twerp. a fairly positive step up.

so how much of change is an infringement of a person's identity and how less of it is a natural or warranted development? considering the total ambiguous nature of identity.. a fine line.. a broad spectrum?

when there is a hushing sigh of resignation for the change in a person, is it just a derivative of the negative opinion existing of an unnecessary difference? or the misunderstood face of an evolved man? why the resistance to change?

adult life brings along a few new things.. takes away some as well. but choice is not one of them. but to choose, one needs to be willing.

you could click the perfect picture

.. you could write the perfect song. have the perfect weekend.. or go one-up.. win the almighty cup.

thence..?

with a clear mind, and a sated heart.. i enquire what is it that awaits yonder. i do not particularly rationalize happy endings. i find them, premature in reality. for unlike say (most) movies, life has a longer reeltime. and accommodates no sequels. presumably.

is it just about the day then? quam minime credula postero (putting minimal trust in the future). #horace

i have been having my perfect weekend since months now. a year even, perhaps. and now, i look at my watch and wonder when is it gonna tick out.. when will the credits stop rolling? which of course speaks of the skeptical realist that one has become, that which does not believe in the immortality of the enduring positive vibe around, or is dispassionately insecure of some harbinger.

possibly anything that i'd say beyond this, would make me seem like a madman; perhaps not a deterrent, but could certainly undermine the primary thought.

happiness = state of mind. agreed. and sautéed.

so how long can a state of mind exist in a consistent and unaltered fashion. how long can a man be happy?

the permanence of change denies any perpetual existence. of form, or figments. in the civil world that we have created around us, there is very little that i find labeled the ultimate. that is, not yielding to loopy sensations and charitable market-idolism of the term nirvana, there is not very much that i find particularly pinnacle-worthy to be pinned so. small hills, no mountains; all around just blind men, without curtains.

or may be i am just not there yet.

i often tail it down to one's ambition. or the lack of. we all have our perfect pictures in our heads. the versions that we carry might not be the same, usually never are.

so what happens when you have clicked the perfect picture?

there will be no distance left to run anymore. there will be that, and then the rest

.

?

this one

.. just makes you wanna grab a camera and click some.

The First Days of Spring Official Trailer from charlie fink on Vimeo.

magnifique. noah and the whale.

(here)

distant times
forgotten thoughts

a walk

to where words seem scars