Death & Me – If Life Was Boring Enough To Allow Me To Choose My Way Of Encountering It!

The closest encounter we have with death when we are alive is as a witness. We see people die. And they never return, unless if the cause of death is a vampire or a zombie which would be a whole different topic. We are afraid of death, we prefer not encountering it and still we are mystified by the very term. Probably because every death is a follow up of some sickness or problem, the only reason we associate death with melancholy. What if death was something that came to a man in his best laugh, laugh oneself to death way, would death we taken as negative as now. We might have envied the dead to have attained the top most happiness and now he can pass to some other level. And probably good jokes would be banned in the nation as weapon of mass destruction.

Well death is a fine concept if we had a good control over it. Death should have been caused with the finest happiness and satisfaction not by dissatisfaction. How good it would sound if life’s to-do lists conclude with Death than be interrupted by one. That would be the perfect last note of life.

I dread death myself. Is there any vampire out there? Bite me!

Well death as I want to encounter it, should be very willingly. I am ready to cooperate with Death, make a deal to come to him without even doing a doctor trip trying to postpone a few days. Just take it in a snap will you!

Now people always wonder about how they would end up in the life, successful / unsuccessful, death in a royal bed or death in a floor mat is all they actually fight for in the life. Work hard and you get a comfortable bed to finish the art of life. And you wonder was this where the path was leading to. The entire struggle of life was just to end up in a good bed.

My death, I would like to encounter it alone. I am sure it aint one of those socializing events in your life to be shared. Death should be private, unless you are butchered in public by thugs. I don’t want these tens of people surrounding me while I trip out. I don’t want them holding me back or looking forward for the same. Both are unworthy at the movement of death. Accept the change than trying to hold down and make a mess. The best treat I can give myself would be a peace and calmness in mind before I enjoy my experience. It is once in a life time experience why spoil it with weird anxieties. Just like how we enjoy ice creams and chocolate with leisure, getting every bit of it to do its magic.

I would want to go down to one of that greenery solitude place where murdered people are thrown and no police ever take efforts to check. Note: Have to Google “Top 10 spots to throw your Kills”. Lie down in a green swampy place in support to the stronger tree than myself, stare and laugh at the still mechanical world, do a quick recap of both the tampered and untampered memories I managed to retain. It will be like one of the pre exam last minute revisions, how much ever you seem to be ready there is this urge inside you that would want you to flip back to some parts and revise it again.

It would be generous of death, if I can have my appointment fixed by myself. Five thirtyish at evening sounds good, the right light, to paint the last picture of what you see in your mind. If only we had a small memory stuck to the soul to tag along. A token to an adventure worthy to be fought the same way again and again.

Writer's Eye

He was in his white t-shirt, topped with a cream sleeveless jacket. He walked down, unsure of how well he might fit into this ever socialising crowd. He can’t. He looked around, saw a Bench, not empty but an edge for his own. His orange pants were very prominent especially when it is glued on to that thick leather shoe of his. His specs described him a thinker, rather a lost thinker hoping to find the path with them. After a few deep breaths he took out a book from his yellow bag. It was a book by Orhan Pamuk. He used his clumsy fingers in turning the pages, pausing at each page to recall the details required to carry forward once again. Flips here and there, for he might have read the book twice, and was trying to figure the story behind the story.

After the warm up reading session, he took his pen and book. His fingers were equally clumsy in moving the fountain pen, he found its pace too slow compared to the thoughts in his heads. He was afraid he might miss the words and emotions in this speed. Then suddenly the racing with the thoughts stopped. He looked around for a while. Flipped a page, searching for some subject. In this city of abundance that wasn’t tough. He stared at many, rejecting one by one. Creepy guy people might have thought. Who cares.

There was this guy, a regular mostly. Smoking a Cigar. One puff after another. He was in no hurry for anything. He might just enjoy making a stroll. A smile of being uncaged. Our writer started staring at him with a smile, but was going to reject him anyways. For the peace has no content but silence in them. But by then, the mobile of the Cigar-Guy started ringing. He thought twice before even reaching for his pocket. He prayed that it was just an illusion. If he doesn’t pick it now, maybe it won’t ring again and he might continue his date with the bliss. He kept staring at the mobile. Allowing it to go back to its silent state. Then with a smile he kept it in, just in time for the next ring. He felt the defeat, thanks to technology and answered the call. He had already played this role many times, and knew the scripts by heart. No surprise or change in the words. He mumbled his lines and hanged. He took a final puff on the cigar, and gathered his frustration and used them in throwing the little cigar away which was half alive. The guy frustrated made a turn and went back to the street he just happily escaped from.

Our writer made a sign of victory, for he found his subject. The peace wasn’t there, and the huge content dropped down in his pen. He went on racing again with his thoughts. Writing about the guy, his peace, his frustration, his duty. He gave the unknown person a past which had a beautiful wife and son. A past where he was having so many duty to accomplish, employers to satisfy, colleagues to cooperate, parents to obey, and family to feed. His past had details of his passion which he misread, and addictions which mislead. The writer was happy with the details, now he went into the thoughts of the future, to sketch them out for the readers. Details of him going back to the office for some senior’s mistake. Or maybe going for an emergency call. Whatever it maybe, it wasn’t he who was riding it. He was in the backseat going to wherever the drivers took him. Unpleasant maybe but he can never have the guts to stop the drivers and take the steering off their hands. Never willing to start learning to drive. And thus went his writing on the subject he saw. He read it once and twice. And then crossed it out. Not enough to please the reader. They want ground reality, but not the facts and truth. They would pity him, talk about him, but forget the ride they are having themselves. Not for the next book, he noted.

He was bored. This city is full of people repeating the same act. Just like those ants that follow the same route. It’s the ant lost away from the route that gets our attention and curiosity of what it might be doing when the others are following the norms. Maybe tomorrow he might find a better subject. And now its late and he would rather reach home for his desk, for another session with his thoughts. He took his bag out, struggling to zip in the book and pen. His hope of finding his theme outside failed him today. He stood up with a cheesy smile on his face, trying to get into the crowd and walk down straight to the subway in the left.

Meanwhile, he never noticed a writer sitting in front of him, writing. His subject was interesting though. The ant that had lost away from its path. The ant that is trying to figure about the line it missed. Unaware where to get in from. Weird, aint it when two people are searching in the same place for a theme to pen, one gets it and one doesn't.

Earth sure goes round and round!!

For humans, earth is this place to excel, to improvise and go forward. Just like a little race like the one in Olympics. The ideas and the knowledge are this torches that are passed on from generation to generations. Or like this relay races, where one generation passes the baton to the next generation, and the next generation hopes to do the same as the time comes. That's how the race is done here on earth by humans.

Well if earth was straight and had an The-End-Road, I would have said the race was valid. But its as round as the race course itself. Now aint it be funny if the guy passing the relay stood over the very place. And in a while the others on his team would bring the same baton back to him. Well however faster he tries to run, even if he changes his two-dimensioned paths, he will reach the very same place he began with, well maybe a little more tired than the previous attempt. Well the only thing we are losing on are energies, where is the progress??

Creative Solitude!!

"Whosoever delighted in solitude either a wild beast, or a god."

--Aristotle, Philosopher.

Does creativity comes from the Creative writing sessions from colleges? Or is it from group discussion? I have been looking up for the how creativity gets in... And i found...

Its solitude! That's what many great people have concluded to...*For what i researched*

It is sometimes the most tranquil thing one can have. And sometimes in plenty it goes to a stage of unpleasant isolation.

"One of the greatest necessities in America is to discover creative solitude."

--Carl Sandburg, American writer.

"The best thinking has been done in solitude. The worst has been done in turmoil."

--Thomas Alva Edison.

Surprising that everyone conclude solitude as a root of creativity. But its concluded by them, after giving it a fair solitudal thought.

"This great misfortune--to be incapable of solitude."

--Jean De La Bruyèr,Essayist.

Solitude magnifies the thoughts in you. You might be creative, but do you listen to those ideas inside you that wants to come out in various forms? Assume people are creative, do they have time to listen to that creative side of them? In this world you cant escape the so-called-society and its company, and this society around us is highly influencing. It has its own thoughts that it wants to be put right inside your head. Solitude help you find your voice and distinguish them from this big noise around you. And you might find those smaller things inside you that get lost easily in the roar.

"I lived in solitude the country and noticed how the monotony of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind."

--Albert Einstein.

Conversation enriches the understanding, but solitude is the school of genius.

--Edward Gibbon, Historian.

Solitude lets you know yourself. When in group half the person you are isn't you at all. You aren't the true you in front of others. You the 'you' that the other wants you to be. That 'you' aint any different than the others. Its one stereotype being existing for others and for other's satisfactions. In solitude the real you would come out and set its presence.

“One can be instructed in society, one is inspired only in solitude.”

-- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Writer.

“Without great solitude no serious work is possible.”

-- Pablo Picasso, Painter.

This doesn't mean solitude will spark into you creativity. Solitude helps in bringing it out if its present in you. Socialising is equally a module of creativity. Its just the balance among them brings the right tone out.

One can acquire everything in solitude - except character.

--Stendhal, Writer.

A creation of importance can only be produced when its author isolates himself, it is a child of solitude.

--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Writer.

Go give youself some time. Take a break from the routine. Solitude is not only for creativity. Its the best way to explore things. If you got any comments on how you think is the best way of getting some solitude let us know.

Why Is Life Kinda Alive...??

I always used to think we are on this earth for a purpose. Else why do we have this special holy 'Life A.K.A Soul' with us.

As many frictional books enlighten us, are we here as His experiment...?? Maybe He had this tiny little 25 marks science project. He choose to grow this small tiny creatures *Fungi and bacteria in our term* and see how it spreads. He also knew *like us* that object has to be damp first for anything to grow on it. And thus He took this little ball of his *the least favorite ofcourse* and spilled some water on it. That explains why the other balls *planets in our terms* don't have any *water* . Maybe he likes those ball. And didn't favor the ball so-called Earth. He let this creatures spring up in the dampness and start eating up the ball. He saw it and understood how with some water, small tiny weird creature can grow up and spoil the whole ball. He definitely learnt and scored *23 maybe* in his science paper. Job done!! And thus he threw it away with his other uncared stuffs in his room. But this tiny little creatures started growing up and made there own world.

Well that might have been the most sensible purpose of our existence. Others are worser then this one. *Trust Me*

Well there is another side...Just suppose as people say He send us here on earth.. Don't you think he might have done that with some purpose..?? Before getting to that purpose, just incase you are one of those pet lovers who got some dog or cat around.. Just think you made this little garden behind your house for him with lot of fancy good stuffs laid around for it to have fun. Maybe some stuff you created for him to play with. What would you want this pet of yours to do? Would you enjoy watching the pet playing around in that garden? Or would you still want it to wag his tail and stare at you. I think psychologically He is like us people. Else we are those little nutty insane people assuming our psychology to be universal. So if we would rather see the dog enjoy our efforts, wont He too would have rather preferred us to enjoy and wander around, than chanting and looking up for him. A most religious person should not be the one who is sitting at one place unaware about the world and thinking only about Him. A most religious person should be he who has explored and seen the vast Ocean, never ending Deserts, whitest Snows, Grasslands, Islands, tallest Mountains and so on. And should have listened to all the kind of music existing in nature... All the different bird chirps and the animals talk. Anything that qualifies him to have seen what He wanted him actually to. Isn't it rude to ignore His gift?


Anyway i love to yap on this theme a lot... for now i will stop it... *may get back to it later..*
I would rather think we are an experiment went wrong *or maybe right -- He got His say on this one!!* than any other rumours floating around..!!

Why Viggipedia..??

Why, What, How Viggipedia...??

Well i dont knw...!! :|

*Datz all.. stay tuned!!*