Unsettling Thoughts…

Rays of Actions...

Rays of Actions…

As mysterious as one might look like, sometimes I’m convinced they’ll be rather more surprising from inside. There comes moments almost daily in our life, when we are thinking on more than one topic at a time (voluntarily or not). It’s a gift of Mother Nature, or for some it could be a curse. We think a lot. In fact a lot of lot. The capacity and mechanism of human thinking is beyond our understanding. We cannot get rid of the thoughts segment of our brain. It’s ever charged, and ever working and ever creating its own fantasies (even while we are asleep). Which raises a question. Why do we have these inescapable, unnerving thoughts??? (Later about that…). We can always try, find and join those bits and pieces of information coming down upon us through different channels of our senses. Those are all inspirations…

Since birth till the transition, I think I have lost tons of precious time in obtaining nothing! It’s quite difficult to convince how, but I can affirmatively say that I was unable to think till I moved to the new city (I talked about in the earlier blog). I’m not sure how or when it occurred to me that I can think, but it was one of those beautiful feelings that one can never stop thanking GOD ALMIGHTY for. It’s like opening up of new horizons and possibilities that you have never ever imagined, nor believed to exist. Not just in the academics, but out of that four cornered building. I literally discovered myself and my CREATOR for the first time. Who am I, what’s I’m here for. What is the meaning of being alive, what’s true, what’s fake, human emotions: jealousy; love; enmity. It was not like I slept one night and when I opened my eyes, the world was different for me. No! It took a long way to learn, and it is still going on. I can never stop thanking ALLAH Almighty for opening the doors of blessings in the form of knowingness for me, the true understanding of life itself. I’m under perpetual gratitude and servitude. Those were the days I started to re-live my life. Although physically you would ask how? And I would be unable to answer, but the transition was more of metaphysical and spiritual than materialistic. And NO ONE would understand it until it has happened to his/herself. And I kept silent, until I met what seems like a mirror (a better mirror I must add) image of myself, one of the beautiful person I still have in my life (I’ll talk about it sometimes later).

Reading the lines of my first proper storybook “A boy from Makkah” by Muhammad Abdo Yamani. The words as if forming a complete new stage from my imagination, creating details and live size images inside my head, for every character, every scene. The first proper novel I read was Khuda ki Basti (Land of GOD) by Shaukat Siddiqi, a master piece of storytelling, roller-coaster of emotions and incredible detailing of both the characters, locations and scenes. Then later the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. It was a visual paradise for me. Creating a magical world of my own, (I never saw its movies before starting the series). It was always captivating. I’m a slow reader. Sometimes reading the same page for like 4-5 times until and unless it makes an image out of itself. I enjoy words like that. That’s my style of enjoying art and especially literature.

I personally feel that it’s almost impossible for me to shut my thoughts (and of course the senses too). Yes, the focal point can be changed, which comes from certain exercises. But still, it is too difficult. I do not have an analogy to perfectly define the case. To give a very mundane idea about it, take the example of Bella, yes Bella from Twilight. When she was turned into a vampire, the power of her senses increases several hundred times, i.e. listening, hearing, smelling and seeing more. This transition was presented in a very superficial and comical way. But if you consider it as a slow & gradual process, it does happen with humans (not the part where they start drinking blood :P).

We all have definitely experienced the feeling, while coming back from work on a silent road, while taking small sips of a hot drink sitting in a lawn or gallery enjoying nature, even while sitting on (this one is funny) a toilet seat or whenever we are alone somewhere. Our senses seems to increase. We can feel, hear and see more (even more than what is actually real). So coming to a conclusion, the thoughts are always there during the whole day but when we start focusing, we start making sense out of it. We began to comprehend it, rather than letting go of these inspirations.

Inspirations can be both blessing and a motivation, determining the course of action we move upon in response to that specific stimulus. At the same time inspirations could be both lethal and destructive. The difference lies in our attitude. How do we absorb those inspirations (the overall thoughts as a whole) can amplify our productivity and can bring behavioral changes in us. We all have observed e.g. while reading some beautiful poetry; or listening to a romantic song; or observing a well detailed surreal photograph, it moves you! It brings a change in us. Directly influencing our emotions. That’s a direct impact. Indirectly the thoughts that I discussed earlier, those random and on-going stream of information going by our senses, throughout the day (sort of short term memories), can create an impact as well. It all depends upon the individual, how s/he absorbs those inspirations and make the best use of it. In the end… keep thinking, it’s healthy, and be inspired, it’s fun! 🙂

(6:56 pm Jan 17, 2014)

P.S. for each blog post I’m adding a photograph that I took sometime, somewhere, connecting to that particular feelings and describing the mood.

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Internal Management

Image

It’s kind of both weird and exciting to start my own blog. Weird as blogs have existed since I’ve started using internet itself, around 14 years back. Exciting as its going to be something unusual of me to share something on the internet that is close to me and my personal self. I have been always afraid of sharing something with the world. I write diary, poetry and short stories. Not for anyone but myself. Always scared of sharing and not receiving the kind of response I always wished. Writing something is easy. Writing something worthy of being written is a question every creative artist should ask him/herself before picking up a pen or typing in front of a dimly lit screen on a cloudy weather night, by an artist stroking a brush on a canvas, or by a photographer taking snap. The answer is always hidden in the approach that moves our desires, our emotions to such extent that we start procreating it in one form or the other.

I guess it’s a human nature, not to share something personal, not until the perfect time has come. The perfect gracious time that all of us, the creative beings, wait to arrive. In which we could just express the world what’s inside us, believing that it’ll be appreciated and loved. But sometimes it’s not the acknowledgment we are searching for but a catharsis, like stepping out of a deep well, scribbling a paper on a notepad so rigorously that it starts to tear apart, or wrecking a wall until your hands bleed out! It’s kind of a burden until and unless it is been poured on to a canvas, a paper, a symphony or even a photograph. It’s an emotion that cannot be explained in words. It’s something surreal, ethereal in nature.

To begin with, I have never been anyone that can be termed as creative. It might be just a sheer coincidence that I start seeing patterns whenever I close my eyes, and words came down upon me whenever I sat to write something each night on the bed. I still remember those days. Moving to Jeddah from Dammam was not just a matter of change in place, but a whole different perspective, for me at least. Jeddah has its own charms. It made me a different person. A transition, a metamorphosis in development. A cocoon turning into a moth. It gave me wings. The first poem, the first ideas shaping onto paper as something making sense, rather than words of lunacy. Writing in the light of an IKEA lamp resting on a desk drawer beside my bed. I always let my windows open, as well as the door that leads to the gallery. The air gave me some signs and symbols. A boost may be. I have never felt this tinkling, this whispering any time before this. It was something magical. Each day a new exploration. Sometimes I just kept my diary open for like hours, nothing to write. Waiting for some divine revelations… it’s a part of the deal. You have to wait. The later the better. That’s what I learned.

Anyways, coming back to the present day. I’m starting to write again, or more precisely ‘to type’. A new medium, and yet newer approach. Why am I so interested in writing a blog? Again the inner self. It never misguides me. It’s like voice of GOD. The part of yourself that has conscience, again works on the same principle. It never lies. I have no target to achieve. I’m starting a new phase of my life, or it’s better to say starting to explore it. GOD has never failed me, and INSHA’ALLAH (GOD willing), He won’t ever. That said, I’m confident enough now to speak. To counter any critique that’ll ever be thrown upon me, regarding my work, my words, or even my personal self. The story of our lives continues to expand, with each day that passes by, there’s always something or someone to learn from. Never underestimates even the tiniest bits of inspirations. Those small details helps us to understand the perplexity of life in a better way, which eventually makes us a better human, indeed…

(2:30am Jan 14, 2014)