Freedom lies in the courage to correct myself. I Shed old skin, grow a new one and shed that one too. New me’s are delighted to discard old me’s.
What are views and opinions but decorations and ornaments? Aren’t those ornaments borrowed? Yet we hold them too dearly while we sit on the precipice of a black hole.
I am just a jar of memories. My identity gets shaped by how I interpret these memories. Wipe it away and I am dead. Wipe it away, and I’m alive.
My mind is but a pendulum. The tennis match will go on. Drenched in confusion. I have to admit that everything until now has been a lie.
Burning away all the masks, personas, obsessions, quotes & books, my cocoons, I prepare myself for several deaths & rebirths in one lifetime.
We can be Theists, Atheists, Leftists, Anarchists, Thisists, Thatists and rot there for an eternity. It’s just alcohol. We were not born to be minions and salesmen for these ideologies.
Is Truth a readymade garment you can purchase?
I’m a universe of warring worlds awaiting clarity for an eternity.
Freedom comes from knowing that all beliefs are but borrowed lies.
We have two choices. We can either choose to make a sketch from scratch and draw by observation, or copy from an existing sketch and call ourselves artists. The former is an adventure, it’s a risk, there’s more scope for errors. It’s real. Let’s learn directly from life, let’s make mistakes, but once we learn, we become the true owners of our paintings. It’s the best gift we can give ourselves.
When we pick sides we waste our time. A sphere can’t grow on one side alone.
Let me stand upright like a needle, tearing away blankets of all the ‘isms’ falling over me. No Philosophy can trap the fire of infinity burning in my eyes. Let no theory tie me. Like the cosmos, our mother, let’s embrace it all, devour it all, the blacks, whites, greys, all of it.