Figuring:
I
started ACCA, after a year-long depression, in June 2024. I had my 3 months
trainee job from March to June 2022. I could in retrospect consider myself done
with graduate studies by June 2021. So, if we add it all up, then from June
2021 to June 2024 make for three years. That is, three years of joblessness
post graduate degree – minus the three months, but that hardly counts if seen
in terms of salary earned. June 2025 is fast approaching and by then I would be
jobless four year since bachelors. So what have I really done in these four
years? There’s the trainee job, of course. There’s also the failed attempt of
CSS. A few months of school teaching. A rather lazy 2022 summer and autumn. A
couple of mania episodes of buoyant feelings and underwhelming practical
results. There’s also been friends, books, socializing. And most prominently,
the infamous year-long depression that we mentioned. Also, ACCA. In about two
weeks, I’ll be appearing for two more exams. Suppose I pass them, then I’ll be
left with 7 more papers, which would, if I don’t pursue a proper job, take me
another year. In other words, I would done with all my ACCA papers (no failed
attempts or job) by June 2026. By then I would be aged 29. 29 years – and no
income. And should we look at the estimated cost of studies (10 years to be
exact, from 2016 to 2026) it would total around 20 to 25 lacs. That is a lot of
money and no so much at the same time. As explained in one of the videos by my
university’s foreign brand ambassador, salaries earned during one’s career
offsets and profits upon the investments made for the studies. Suppose on
average I shall earn 7 lacs per year in the first 5 years of my career, which
would include 3 years of work experience, I would be breaking even in 3.5
years. That means I would be profiting off of the family investment for 1.5
years, totaling around 10 lacs. But I know that’s all an educated wish. Of
course life doesn’t go as planned. Not that I wouldn’t start my career or that
I wouldn’t earn money, but the earning to spending ratio could be drastically
different to what I can in theory calculate here and now.
Job:
After
my bachelors, I wanted a job. Now I want a job in finance or even more
specifically, in accounting. Because having finally narrowed down my career,
only an accounting experience could actually benefit me in my progress.
However, if I wanna earn cash, that could be done through other jobs like
teaching and telemarketing or customer service etc. But I’ve hit the age where
I must, now that I’ve ‘wasted’ the leeway age where one should start on a
career, should get a proper job. So, how will that happen? Well, by applying of
course. But we know by experience that that hardly works. Reference is crucial.
Thus this time forward, I will be more accurate in applying for jobs and
actually following up on them. And even if I struggle at first, I would have my
papers to clear anyways. It could be an internship at a small local company, or
a direct entry in a firm where I get hands on experience of auditing or
taxation or what not. So, the first three months will be testing, as well as
the first three years. Once a member, who knows how life would look like for me
and what would be awaiting me then – but first three years are must and urgent.
And it’s not capitalism, it’s realism. You have to do it.
Mania:
I
need to calm down. I need to cut on my interactions with people. Because if I
look at it deeply, my mania has had no harmful or imprinting effect in my
relation to myself. If anything, it has only helped me. Helped me in unifying my understanding about
life and my philosophy on living it; and it has greatly accelerated my interest
and intrigue toward the idea of God, and has thus propelled me specifically
into this area of study and pondering. It has also boosted my confidence and
thereby has allowed me to attain an ever present ease within and without
myself; that I can be at peace alone and around others and can be aware of my
emotions and their causes, and at times, even regulate them. I reiterate myself
here again that I have indeed civilized and this is no joke. Others outside me
could hardly see or hint upon what is going on inside me, let alone them
landing upon any sort of understanding whatsoever. Besides, aren’t we all
walking our own tracks? Shouldn’t each of us worry about themselves in regards
of the looming age of ‘practical life’ that’s up our throats? This is what I’ve
realized as a few of friends have gotten engaged and married: that life is a bitch
that never gives up. And that we are all alone in fighting that bitch. Not that
help or companionship isn’t available, but that it isn’t possible to avail
them. So distinct is encapsulated is our own specific and entailed problems
that no one, even if they selflessly devoted their lives to our battles, could
even begin to solve or correct these discrepancies. And since that bitch don’t
give up, you gotta do this battle on a sustained basis, all years long
basically. So yeah, focus on yourself and let others gossip.
Friends:
An approach I’ve always had toward friendship was to ponder what friendship is actually for. But lately I’ve found this perspective to be too vague and my answer in conflict to beliefs of others. A more serviceable question might be: what are my friends for? And why am I friends with these people? And what my time spent with them actually means? Some of my friends have been with me since childhood, and interestingly enough they aren’t the friends I spend most of my time with these days. Actually, I hardly spend time with them at all. My friendship with them remains firm, and my current views about life, although different from them, don’t create any tension either; it’s just that we have separated from each other by our different life paths. My newer friends are the available ones and my common thread with them has mostly been literature and our mutual filling of time. Since all of us have each other as ‘the main group of friends’, we automatically get together as often as we can. Life is generally empty for almost all of us present, so we use it by being together, not as much out of loneliness, but also out of habit. The question that then remains is this: should I continue being friends with them, given the option that I can direct that time toward other things? Friends are generally not be an option, and we might not treat them as such; they are a bunch people we by default turn to any day, any time, without any hesitation or meaning. But time is of essence - more so as we climb the age ladder. A measuring of the usefulness of time spent is thus required. With friends, our time is spent talking. Talking about daily affairs, gossip, in our case literature, and for a few seldom occasions, talking about personal problems as well. Certain experiences are also gained with friends: trying new places, building new hobbies, creating memories, sharing a celebration or a grief. On other hand, one’s time could be spent with oneself: studying, reading books, writing, walking, watching shows and films, scrolling on social media, being with family, house chores, job, wife, children, and so on. Some of these solo activities sound almost as tedious as those idle chats with friends when one has nothing better to do instead. But a few of these solitary acts measure as more ‘useful’ than anything done with friends. Reading books, for example, has been one of such activities for me. I read books without my friends, and watch movies alone too, and write by myself as well; I enjoys solo walks with my earbuds on than foolish chatters with friends or even the intellectual discussions. It is in solitude that we form our own reflections and ideas, and therefrom our characters. With friends we only amuse the random ideas and one rare occasions land on an inspiration that we take home with ourselves.
Having
said all this, do friends remain essential anyways? Knowing that much of our journey
is solo, and that it can be lived solo as per my current ideation, do we
actually, genuinely, need our friends, old or new? On occasions, of course!
Meeting an old friend after months is quite rejuvenating. And seeing our newer
friends once in a while doesn’t hurt either; it might even ensure a ‘happier’
time than one could spend by oneself. The essence of friends then remain, at
least for me, for now, is their needed presence when one requires some company
and needs to share something, or just to lighten the chest, lighten the mind.
In reciprocal, however, one should then also be the needed presence when
another friend needs company. However, that is a given: friends, or at least
one or two, might always be there for such occasions. Nevertheless, even
complete abandonment is tolerable when one has made peace with oneself and with
the melancholic idea that even friends might not be the answer. In such terms,
daily dose of friendship, especially when overdone like I do these days, not
only looses its essence but might be harmful due to the opportunity cost. The
solo activities that could be otherwise achieved might measure much more useful
than the idle hours spend with friends, knowing that nothing significant is
ever to come out of it. The price for true friendship is time, I know, but I
think I have paid more than enough – also, I have received in return the joys
of friendship plentifully as well. I think I can manage more time on my own,
and especially now, I need to realize this fact and test my own time with a
sustained solitude. Do you not run the risk of estrangement? Well sure, but not
taking that risk is but a cowardly excuse for being with friends. As you know
me, tommy, if anything we need to be reassured of their sincerity than they of
mine. Risk it.
Money:
I have spent a lot money recently. Ever since I got out of my depression, a series of outflow ensued. I wanted to go for ICMA, but having had little international scope, it was rejected by my financier, my brother. ACCA gave me cold feet not only because of its dry syllabus (which proved to be untrue) but also because of its thick fees. Yet compared to masters in abroad, it costed way too little, and in return offered way more value as well. I wonder how my other friends who are so earnest about studying abroad would assess their cost benefit analysis. But money spent on education or degree isn’t wasted, but an investment that should pay off – depending on me of course, and the job market (which is gloomy after the rapid infiltration of AI). Money spent otherwise however is considered wasted. So let’s break it down: how much money have I actually spent in the last eight months? My monthly expense sent by brother is 30k, times eight that equals to 240k. From that I might’ve paid an average rent of 10k per month. 240k – 80k = 160k. On food, I spend irregularly. Suppose in a day I might spend 100 on cigs, some 500 on food, and another 200 on snacks, totaling 800; now times 30 that would make for 24k for a month. But again, I go out on weekends, I travel home and spend money on tickets, there’s haircut and phone bill, petrol and daily meal cost that we have together. All that. I don’t still consider money spent here as wasted: these are the running cost of living a modest life of quality. One could always be careful here and save bits, but again to be so minuscule in everyday finances would take one’s liberated state of mind and thereby decrease the quality of one’s life.
What definitely can be termed ‘wasted’ is money spent on shopping. Damn this capitalism that pushed us down this evil’s throat. Shopping has become so ubiquitous and every day that one is bound to be caught up in its cumulative burden. Ads both in real life with billboards and such, and as well as online through all of social media and the internet are always keeping us in its elusive yet arresting net of being in need or want of something. Always. Whether it’s a book launched, or a trendy sweater for the winter season, on that all white sneaker you lack, or the allure of after market where you spend with an assured sense of morality, or the new phone that you always wanted to buy for which you didn’t, don’t, have any reason but still end up buying it because you’ve seen so many reviews of it on YouTube, and so on and so forth. But all for what? It is lie. IT IS A BIG LIE. Capitalism lies to you. These things don’t change your life, or make you grow in your character, or win you the affections of people, or the love of that specific person – nothing, they do nothing, they do shit. All the money that we spend on these utterly useful things (look at them at the end of their life and you’ll know their uselessness) could’ve been saved, or invested in something lasting, prominent, mattering, or could be given to somebody else who needs it for his or her actual needs. Or even in the first place, had you not needed all that money for all that useless shopping, you wouldn’t spend your time working for that money. That time you could’ve used for other things. Life is so abundant, especially in our age with the internet and possible travelling and easy access to books and moderately peaceful surroundings. Why should not one rebel against the attention economy, against the never ending cycle of consumerist capitalism, against the false make-beliefs of democracy that you can become who you want? Why should not one rebel in civil disobedience and dedicated one’s time, life, and days, and hours, and morning and evenings, and summers and winters, to something more natural, more beautiful, more savoring, more aligned, and calm and relaxing and intriguing? Spend one’s time with a book, under a tree, in a desolate landscape looking at the overcast sky, around a bunch of flowers, around friends chatting on this and that, around family with kids and with the adults, time spent walking on long and never ending routes, spent running with grit and rage, spent sleeping or napping or lazying around in one’s bed, or time spent watching a movie, or writing a poem, or rewatching old comedies and old photos and films on your phone, refreshing old memories and having a good day… life is indeed abundant. Such a shame we’ve lost the vigor, courage, and creativity to live our lives to its fullest. We only know how to work, earn, spend, and repeat.
Coming back to realism: I have
since borrowed money on multiple occasions from multiple people. Some 30k from
Mohsin, some 10k from Qamar, from 20k from Ali, 12k I owed Habib bookseller for
40 books I purchased from his stall, 10k from Baji and 10 from mom, another 26k
from mom since I am going back to Karachi tonight and don’t have no money. I
still owe others a total of 40k. And where have I spent all that money? Books,
lots of them and purchased almost mindlessly that if I exam closely I’m afraid
I would hate myself for being to impulsive and non-rectifying. Phone: I
purchased 21 ultra, repaired it, did cpid, then I exchanged that with 22 ultra
which ran out of its sim time, so I exchanged that for pixel 8 and paid another
10k for it. My consolation in this regard is that I’m probably gonna hold onto
pixel 8 for a significant time. As for books, I will read them eventually and
there’ll always be markets to resell them. Temu has become my latest nemesis
and I have been but a ready victim. I don’t even wanna talk about it. I know
money isn’t the least bit important for a good life. Which little amount of you
actually need to sustain a certain quality of life, you have to earn it and can
do it easily. Anymore than that, then you are trading your time, basically your
life, for money which you’ll then spend on your life that wasted earning this
money to live in according to a status quo that the capitalist market and our
mindless societies have set for themselves and for you. I need to earn that
‘which little amount’ and I need to find a job. And spend less if I can.
Karachi:
interlude
I am in Karachi now. I’ve always believed that taking a couple of sleeping pills would be a perfect way to minimize the ‘discomfort of leaving’, but a few things happened this time around that might refute that claim. First, I did have motion sickness despite being forcefully asleep. Last night, my eyes open, I don’t know what time of the night, from a dream I can’t recall but that it was a weird one - and what do I feel: seconds away from throwing up. I pick the bin from the bus aisle and place it under my mouth; I vomit but nothing comes out. I am then feeling so disgusted not only because I am throwing up, but also because I have a hard time keeping my eyes open under the effects of the pill. I didn’t vomit and went to sleep a minutes later, after I placed the bin back down. Then I wake up at the security check point and I realize the weirdness and vividness of my dreams. All the while that I was sitting and smoking a cig as our bus was being checked, I kept asking myself ‘why am I having such vivid dreams?’. I wake one last time and I am in Karachi and minutes away from the last terminal. I hop off, take a rikshaw, and come home. On the way, since I need some cigs, I ask the driver to stop by a pan-shop but I am also worried that the moment I step down to get a packet of PINE, he’ll just turn on the engine and run away. I get off the vehicle, casual looking but alert in my consciousness, fully ready for what could happen. Much to my relief, however, the driver also got down and started cleaning his rikshaw while I got myself cigs. It is hot here, but not summer proper hot. The fan is running almost 50% or around. I am not sweating. I came here and did some management stuff: attire, my bed, my area of the room, took a shower, had a breakfast, sorted my books and materials, opened the piled packages from readings and temu – and I slept. However, since the yesterday’s raging departure, which I did regret a lot while I was still awake in early hours of the bus ride, I was still not in a chatty mood, so I spoke next to nothing as my brother got ready and left for his office. I don’t know, maybe I am still in that mood. Sister called, actually it was Wajji’s number, and I talked and she did complain of my unmannerly way of departure, and my response what that ‘it is good to show what you are feeling. I am not one to appear otherwise than how I am feeling’.
And
so, I am in Karachi, just like that. I woke up around 2pm. Went down and
cleaned my bike, relieved to see it had petrol and started without a fuss. I
went to metro, ordered pizza pie with tea, snapped a picture and sent it to
Aman (what happened to risking it? But I am also an impulsive guy), and after
having an expensive lunch (cost me 400), I started reading Nietzsche’s
biography and Uspensky’s new model of the universe (former showed Nietzsche
explored themes of fate and free will in his student days while being terribly
sickly like his father, and the later explained how Uspensky journey for
certain ‘schools’ in other lands opened to him the ubiquity of themes of an
unknown knowledge he himself was exploring). I tore down the bottom side of my
parking ticket to use a bookmark and left. The footpath area separating the
university road and the service lane of kalaboard was gone. ‘What the fuck are
they even doing?’ I exclaimed as I rode my bike through the dried mud piles and
unruly situation of traffic on the service lane area. I went and had ‘saada’
biryani from hotpot guys, met the juice bar guy, drank banana date shake which
he had to make from another shop since his power supply was out. I came home,
attended a webinar on PM exam techniques, covered bit of syllabus, and now I am
writing this. I need to pee and smoke afterwards. To the coming weeks! Cheers x
Girls:
How big a desire, how desirable a drama, how dramatic every tale – girls occupy a significant place in our lives. In mine, equally as much if not more. More, I guess. Yes, more. But it’s those that you seek or desire or hope toward that become unproportionally significant. Otherwise, the female kind remain rather frustrating at time, be it in your own family or girls in general. They do stupid things; they are emotional, which in itself isn’t bad, but devoid of rationality, it is bad; they like to assume things and hate plain facts; they like drama, twisting everything, making it more complicated yet delicious for their own sake; they cannot be straightforward, they would beat around the bush but never approach that thing head one; they are easily swayed by whatever’s in trend, BTS, trendy dance, fashion, marrying, ditching boys, all of it becomes like a game for them, where once started they all get playing with an off consciousness. Anyways, if I go about listing, with mild passion, their self-owned but mostly unhelpable flaws, the list would go on. To my defense, male kind got many flaws too, and I shouldn’t need to tell it to females since they know it best, but ours stem from two needs, or one really – greed, for women and money. When I think about girls, I don’t know what they want or desire or what motives they have for their actions. What seems to me is that all their actions are reactive: taking revenge, following a trend, becoming acceptable… conforming. But an old advice I got on Facebook more than a decade ago still comes to my rescue in topics on women: do not try to understand women; women understand women and they hate each other. However, another advice too comes to mind, more on the humble side this time: women, can’t live with them, can’t live without them. And that is a true a statement as can be. In both individual lives and in the construct of a society, women are absolute musts, as are men. Actually, it feels even wrong to claim this. Of course, night should exist for the day to exist, they not only complete each other, but are the absolute singular reason for the other’s existence. So is that in this duality: men and women need each other; their separate existence depends upon their coexistence. Once this is out of the way, a whole series of timeless injustices arise as to why then both these genders weren’t treated equally? I don’t want to go deep into this topic, because I lack comprehension and finesse required, but I will say this: night has its own quality and given to it, or attached to it are its own suiting needs, as well for the day. Equally shouldn’t mean the same the treatment, but rather, sufficiently, as per required. Nor am I here to write about society, since talking about it is more fun, specially in terms of women.
So that leaves my own life to discuss in
relation to girls. With me, right now and times before, it is that case of
stubbornness as a result of failure. Just as a fox declares the unreachable
grapes sour, I go a length further and say I don’t even need them even if they
are sweet. They are sweet, I do declare (in Michael’s Savana accent), but I can
do without them. While moving back to our rebuilt house, I was afraid by the
reaction by brothers would have toward my stupidly large collection of books (I
know there are way too many). And they did have a reaction: these books should
last you your lifetime, you don’t need to marry even. I agree with that on two
grounds: one, that they are too many to last me my whole life, given that they
will increase in numbers; and two, that the pleasures they provide me
(raahatein or bhi hain – other pleasures do also exist – as Ahmed Faraz says)
should be equally sufficing, if not more, to the pleasures of having a
girlfriend or a wife. Bonus here is that there is no drama, no theatre of hurt
feelings, no bullshit – nothing – here with books. And for that alone, I think,
I already with the argument. Yes, I don’t get the ‘feels’ (like my friend
hilariously expressed by honking his hands) be it of the emotions or of the
body that your partner or girl can make you feel, but hey that’s how life be,
choose one let one go. But being realistic, I do need one and would be with
someone one day, my wife. And she would be with me. And together, we’d have to
learn how to live by each other’s side and tolerate each other, and fucking
blast in the joys that proximity of marriage brings. That’s all I’d say for
this part, since not much could be said for arrange marriage. As for love –
well, I’ve written quite much about it and about those I loved and those who
broke my heart. Love is beautiful and worthy, but not destined for everyone I
guess; and to the girls I’ve known, I hope you guys are happy, healed, and
content – just like I am. And yes, I am always up for a conversation, how
better, a drama.
Family:
“These people are crazy. There’s something wrong with them. There’s something wrong with them.” – Trump. And “My family and other animals” a book by Gerald Durrell. These two, with a necessary dose of humor, begin to explain my family, or any family in general. As Tolstoy famously had opened his novel Anna Karenina with “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” And since each family is unhappy at least some of the times, to the sane member these bunch of people would appear as ‘animals’ or ‘crazy since something’s wrong with them’. My family is no exception. But only now, after years of serious displeasure and disappointment, I can now lightly and with fun accept the good sides of my family as well. The build of our family is a tale of an unhappy marriage where the wife faced each problem head on with stoicism and belligerent will, and the husband tolerated his life and his wife, both of whom didn’t turn out to be what he wanted. However, while the wife’s story took a shape of fighting survival and heroism, the husband’s story was stoic in a surrendering fashion, a life of resignation and living mutedly, finding pleasure in the routine, never protesting outwardly or engaging full on. The current picture or narrative doesn’t revolve around the marriage anymore, nor about the wife and the husband – it has run its course, it’s unchallengeable as past things are, it’s not present anymore yet the fight with its unpleasant memory still requires a greater degree of stoicism.
My parents have realized that. My mother takes her loss of will and say with a melancholic, almost bitter, perspective; all those heroic sacrifices and push against-s, for what? A very unheroic ending where she isn’t so central anymore. Her garden is fruitful, precisely because of her struggles, but she cannot appreciate her garden enough to stop her from mourning her lost power, her youth. My father, on the other hand, lives like he used to, resolved in his resignation. Things have always happened in his life, yet without any real participation from him; either he felt a lack on invitation or a lack of will from himself. We grew up, some of us have already married, we rebuilt our house, moved up the ladder toward the middle class, few of us moved abroad, one made a name for himself, others on that path – yet none of it involved my father, nor did her involve himself, in any direct or material way. It happened, and he noticed, and continued to live his routine life. It is both an incredibly admirable thing, as well as sadly condemnable (specially if one looks at it from my mother’s perspective, which isn’t recommended). It is not to say he hasn’t lived. Actually he still has much to live; he doesn’t feel nor looks declaratively ‘old’. He has some years left in him. However, he has mostly looked for life elsewhere, outside his family, while still living under its shadow. I presently dislike him, yet whenever I remove my self and analyze his life from a neutral perspective, I sympathize, pity, and admire him – all the same. But I can’t say I love him.
I do, however, very firmly, love my Babhi. But let me put away my
declaration of her elusive flaws: she doesn’t look after herself, not even the
required amount; she can be pretentious at time, and it is stingingly noticeable;
she isn’t as forthcoming as a mother should be around her child, specially
nowadays; she is a slow – nay – inefficient householder, in that she can take a
hold day to do what could be done within hours, and on a busy day, it works
against her. A person, with whom one lives, one’s family, has almost certainly
an uncountable amount of flaws going for them; these few that I have gathered
about my Babhi, without prudence, might not even count or compare. My mother is
a tough lady, she won’t let it slide though. However, now that we are allowed to
be praising, here goes: she’s the central piece of the machine that our house
is, take her out and it’ll take us, I don’t know what, to start functioning
again; she’s sweet, almost without any single instance of moodiness or unlike
her behavior; she’s stoic like the olden times, and I wonder sometimes why my
mother is hard on her at times where instead she should be kinder, sympathetic.
I realize how long this piece is stretching, so I have to cut things short: I love
my Babhi, and my new Babhi with whom a feel a readier kinship albeit with a
slight hesitation which will wither with time. I love my elder sister for being
there for us despite having the hardest life of all of us, imagine being denied
your own life while being the daughter of a mother who champions autonomy and
power of will; and my younger sister, for being different. Although she isn’t different
in the more pleaseable ways, but she different in the important aspects that
has the potential to set her apart, given she, soon, realizes that her current
lifestyle won’t help her emerge her own personhood, but for that she needs to
believe that such a thing in possible in the first place. To my brothers, I learn
from you guys and look up to you in times of weakness; and to my nephews and
nieces, you are the source of continual merriment in our house. This grasping of
the positive and life giving aspects of my family, I need to hold on to it. This
could be as beneficial to me as my friends – and me to them as well.
God
and my personhood:
I
need to be more afraid of You. Forgivable maybe my naughty claims, less forgivable
perhaps my buoyant and lacking in self-awareness declarations of closeness, yet
contemptible and spoiling if I don’t grow humble and practical on Your path
while using it as my source of righteousness. Perhaps, I even need to forget
You and the proximity I may have claimed; in the regained distance, let me once
again normalize prayers and the recitation of Quran, of reclaiming the small
bounties of wisdom that lies in the daily Islamic practices, be that of
prohibition or prayer. Let me visit the mosque again, and feel the warmth of
the people there, instead of getting self-involved and pretentious. Let me aguish
again, with the lost nature of youth, against my own unfulfilling attempts at a
better life, for being a hypocrite, a sinner, for not doing what I know to be
right, for making intellectual excuses. Let me be afraid of You. In Your fear,
I may rise again, now that my ecstatic claims of foolery has abandoned me, and
rise more humbly this time. As for my ‘self’, I shall intently follow where you
go next. Do no lose your faith: become rasher and more audacious when the dark
clouds approach you again, and the black dog come barking. ‘Wait in your
blackest moment, without any fear’ (Rumi) and face your demons with resolve and
unflinching stature. Yet be humble, listen them out – and then appear bigger. Rise
to the occasion, and deliver. Calm is a superpower, sustain it – make it your sustenance.
Life:
You’ll
be turning 28 in about three months. You need a job, the sooner the better. But
make sure you do not lose your composure when denied. Persist with a palpable
hope. ACCA, not just the papers for it’s the easier part, is a long journey, so
treat it like your companion and be always in conversation with it. Together,
decide on the better paths, should more than one appear, but for now find any
that appear and stick with it. Do not forget to live though: you’ll get a job,
you’ll be married, you’ll have children; and similarly, you’ll be single, you’ll
hate your job at times, you’ll feel terribly lonely, you’ll be away from your
friends or they’ll move away – let the act of living and being, feeling alive
is ever present for it is practiced in the present. Make most of what you are
doing through; be a good observer and pay attention. Memories are not yours to
be made, you should just allow them to be created by being one with life, by
being present. Books, music, films – these don’t depend upon people. They are
loyal to you, and it is only decent of you that you should be loyal to them.
But since you are more than decent, be a devout worshipper of these, love and
cherish them, give to them your time, idle or sacrificed, so that they shall return
it with wisdom, sense of true company, and a shower of tenderness and love. Ecstasy,
euphoria, excitement – flight, therein as well, don’t forget these either. These
sustain your sustenance. I wouldn’t be wrong to say, they keep you alive by refilling
your source of and desire for life. They stop you from becoming a ‘bore’, which
is death in life.
Believe
in yourself: In your ability to meet and resolve each tomorrow and each today
with the best of your resources – to either rise higher or curtail the falling down
to as little. And that belief should then allow you to continue on the journey
of ‘becoming what you are’ and ‘learning what that is’ with a ‘rest assured’
attitude. Lastly, keep talking to Tommy – it’s a sign that things are still ‘shadanga
padanga’.