Which One?

Three Worlds by M. C. EscherLithograph, 1955.
[Source – Wikipedia]


Out of the three worlds, this time, which one can you hear? Which one appeals to you more? The fish’s saga, the floating leaves’ travelogue or the tall dry trees’ declaration?

Is it clear then that the fish is frantically slow and brokenly quick, dashing here and there, carrying a wide-eyed moustache-o message for one and all?

And that the floating leaves, united and wet, surge to take over the stick, the feather, the boat and the paddles? A spirit of wilfulness rises in every seemingly dead leaf that allows it to fade at its own pace… green, red, brown, and skeletal leaves speak a different language.

The tall dry trees say nothing that time can capture in the garb of winters, autumns, summers, springs or monsoons, for the tall dry trees declared it long back that it is all just one big movement, constant movement, and stays so whether you measure it or not.

Is it clear then that the trees are old masters and not just a reflection of our ideas?

Out of the three worlds, now, which one do you listen to? Which one swirls you as if on a joy ride? Which one’s too fast, which one’s too slow?

Which one? Or is there simply just one?


One big movement!
[Source – Pixabay]

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Deconstruct What Is Repeated

Introspective Prose

Phenomena Endless Quest 1992 by Paul Jenkins
acrylic on canvas 66 x 74 inches   167.6 x 188 cm
Private collection, Taipei. [Source –]

And I almost always forget. Sigh! Not that whether I am going forward or backward, is it the oblate spheroid earth or vertical me, the flowing time or the following life, the dream within dream or the dreamy me… but the funny fact that I have gone through all this before, in different measures, small degrees, little proportions and reflected on quite often.

Still, I simply, pleasingly forget.

Then things repeat, without my knowledge. Lucid ideas shine through and bring sense back to this life. Life! Surely very confident of itself, life is. Just look at the way it is happening.

Living an usherette’s life, I watch my story playing in every other story. A happy wallflower, that’s how confident I am. Dashingly, entering the stage in my mind, I take over.  The glee moment, ideas collected elegantly.

Reality is not a plain horror story, it depends… just like senility is not only for aged, but it depends.

Oh! I mean, let us pick five memories and analyze all very humbly. Then watch a classic black and white movie and read a ‘must-read-before-you-die’ book, all very scrupulously.

Also, travel to a place never been before, pick it directly from your bucket list. Great!

After doing all this, surely vicariously for now, a tremendous clarity falls on the point I have been trying to make.

Life and the happenings, routine feelings and memories, hard hitting failures and mild successes, dreaming-trying-acting-dreaming and in the end, facing the underlying theme vibrant in every direction, almost deafening once observed, right?

No! What! No? Fine, am sorry, then forget it.

But, please, at least, try to deconstruct what is repeated in your life. That is all.

Good luck!

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