Shhhhhh... Don't speak!

There are different kinds of silences. Sometimes, silence is like that clear pond that makes you want to look into its forever and ever kind of depths. It is still and deep and whole. It reminds you that you're linked in that still moment, to the beginning of time. It has that eternal feel about it. Sometimes, silence is a slap on the face. A gross act of retaliation. Nothing short of violence.

Mumbai's aftermath is a grating silence. The calm after the storm, so to speak. A symbol of shocking numb. The city is at a standstill. The problem with each of these varying kinds and degrees of silence is not in their base intentions or the reactive nature with which it may have begun. It is when silence is taken as a reason to point fingers and when it is seen as a weakness by those who will manipulate the space thus cultivated by it. It happens in the most petty instances. Politicians move in where there is panic, hoping to garner support for the next election. Other's with selfish intent use the space for silence as a tool to nurture their grab-all mentality.

In most cases thats what it comes down to; this warring for space and the right to impose ideals and ideologies on the world at large comes from a twisted kind of scarcity-consciousness. The mines-mines-mines mentality of the voyeuristic me-me-me.

Like I said, it happens in grave situations, and it happens in the most petty instances. Sometimes hundreds of lives are affected; other times only one or two. But it happens. And it hurts. It really does.

I don't know much about crisis management. And I have yet to fully embrace constructive grieving processes and networks of support. But I know this much: People who have that scarcity consciousness, who imagine that they should feel threatened by a particular status quo and who feel righted to upturn it in grossly violating ways, need to be weeded out from the thriving gardens of spirit and humanity that the rest of the conscious world wishes to cultivate.

And a momentary silence doesn't mean defeat; or admonishment. It is a moment to reflect. A time to grieve, and a reason to stand together and create those shifts in consciousness and infrastructure that will secure the future.

Silence isn't 'doing nothing'. It is healing. The calm before a revolutionary storm. At some point, all hypocrisy must die. Enough is enough. Eventually, only whats real will preside. The winds of change will make certain of it.

faking it

it would seem that he turned out to be some kind of wannabe super hero...

calls himself 'anon'...

spews out darkness and glib poison at unsuspecting folks
and then slinkers back into the abyss where he belongs.
no call to duty.
no accountability.
just pathetic and drivelsome.

a fake superhero.
unimaginative.
and plainly nothing.
yep. a fake.

no name brand

I just learned that a good friend of mine blogs. All this, thanks to her mom. Now, she's one heck of a person. And she's got a 'wow' mind. All this means that she must have one really awesome blog. Or two. Or however many she might have. But, she chooses to remain anonymous. And, of course, thats to be respected. I remember when I first started blogging, I chose to write simply as Kimya. Theres something to be said about total blissful anonymity. In the way that one writes, in the level of expressiveness and in the non-judgemental approach one has to ones expressions regarding self. Not much of that has changed, in principal, but I wonder if, at least at a subconscious level, this open writing challenges freedom in any way? Or does it add a responsibility of sorts, perhaps? I wonder.

I wonder if anonymity belies intentions. If it aids exaggeration. Or if it courts embellishment. I wonder if life is fiction anyway. Or is fiction reality, all the same.

I also wonder if this blood pressure level dropping below 100 is causing my mind to spin in too much wondering. I need sleep. And water. And less caffeine. And more fresh air. And an oasis of new inspiration.

And I would really like to write again. So I am off to do that. Ciao.

With love and sweet nothings
S