A Quest For Meaning

 Sometimes I miss her, it feels like a quest. 
A quest to seek bits and pieces of her.
Sometimes I wonder,
how can a man's heart yearn for a memory that has become a distant providence?
How can a man yearn for the touch that bears fictitious brunt?
You can touch the mirror the million times over but,
Never can you touch the person whose reflection finds home in it.
Unless! Unless, you turn those hands towards yourself.
But, you can't touch the memory of the person you see beside you every-time you rest your gaze on the mirror.
I seek her not in memories, but in the days that I live by, in the breaths that I take in.
I seek her in my quest to gather the character of noble origin.
I seek her amidst the aisles flanked by words of wisdom.
I seek her in every venture.
Sometimes I feel there's more to my yearnings, it's living! Living in abundance.
You can't have whatever you want, but you must have what you need.
Maybe, I wanted her physical presence - her whole physical entity.
Maybe, I need the halo over her crown - the halo o'er my Queen.

While I was sitting at my desk, doing nothing but dreading the apparent vacuum in my mind that boredom had left in its wake after a couple of hours of studying, I happened to spiral down into a space where I thought of nothing yet swarms of thoughts were creeping at me from all directions. Thoughts about ill-thought decisions that I took up while choosing the stream to graduate from and get the bachelors. Thoughts on whether I should’ve taken that interesting yet an aimless, unrewarding stint at the job I was offered or the one that slipped by due to some shady deed of a friend who took to stabbing his own friends to make way for himself and a lot many to be put into words. I was marauded by these depressing beings who came at me, in waves after waves, to bury me into the ground under the weight of dread, disgust and gloom

Just then I was struck by a fit of awareness; not that I didn’t had any in the first place, this one was of a different kind. As though I was looking at me from an isolated frame of observation and with this, all of my decisions were put to objective scrutiny. It essentially made me realize a multi-faceted aspect about myself that lay buried within – shielded by a veil of insecurities and unresolved emotions. I took up my journal and started noting every insight that had payed a visit at my doorstep. It became clearer how I have evolved on both the sides of the fence and easier to accept myself. Acceptance is the first step to submission – a submission that empowers one with the freedom to turn every tragic incident into something fruitful.

The motive of this blog isn’t about discussing on those insights for they are of a very personal nature. It’s about seeking the good from that vault called past. As Victor Frankl spoke , “In the past, nothing is irretrievably lost, on the contrary, everything is irrevocably stored and treasured”, he didn’t restrict the nature of the past as being a safe depository of events, opportunities and potentialities but as an illuminating piece of self which we must exploit in the hours of need and take forward the lessons learnt in its light and deliver ourselves efficiently in the shadows waiting to be lit as we cross them in transit.

While all these thoughts were picking at my nerves, I closed my eyes and thought,
“what are my needs, wants and desires?” and kept on repeating the same until I was startled by the image of a woman in a bluish hue. She was as lively as she had been years ago. And that was it that I knew what I needed. For, along with her image came the words that she once spoke to me – “When you get to be with a woman, be with her fully, give her all of your love”. It’s worth to mention here is that these words came from the one who was hurt by me. Sometimes we expect thorns in the path, and that’s okay. When all your expectation of coarseness are met with kindness, it transforms you. I had been entangling myself into the vicious knots of a guilt trap only to have liberated from it when I was met with kindness. And thus I wrote the above lines in the opening paragraph of this blog. And as I say, “But, you can’t touch the memory of the person you see beside you every-time you rest your gaze on the mirror.” I mean only one thing, you shouldn’t ever try to picture the edited past. You should only thrive to form strategies to avoid the parts of past, you’d rather have forgotten, from happening again or form corrective measures to tackle them as soon as possible. This is similar to the psychological term – Risk management where one consciously thinks of ways to mitigate a risk or to contain it post occurrence and strive for corrective measure – the solution oriented approach!

Therefore, I appeal my readers to re-read the poem and not see it through the eyes of a guilt-ridden, hopeless lover, but that of a man who loves his life and sees to it that she is abundant with meaning and purpose.

Strive to live a meaningful and purposeful life; you needn’t have a grand meaning to it just yet, on the contrary, strive to live every day with purpose and aim, make every task driven by meaning so that, in the hours when your breaths are few – you look back at your depository only to find that your life had always been meaningful and purpose driven. Life is a possibility, make every miracle possible while you are alive.

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