Mastering others is Strength. Mastering yourself is True Power ~ LAO TZU
Of many happenings in my life, I can count many which have left a deep and lasting traumatic impressions. Gradually, now after prolonged years of life, I am beginning to realize a definite transformation has taken place in me. The head and heart both have embraced the change – I think I can feel and think with both. It is seldom that one remains ahead of the other constantly. Ups and downs of life haven’t affected me a lot. In many ways I think others would have been influenced more than how I perceive them in my own case. Yet my life has been full of traumatizing experiences especially because of people and incidents connected to me. During the last 12 years or so, I have mulled over my reflections of the past as well as ruminating what future holds for me. This state has not resulted out of any discontentment or vexation. My center point of aspirations and dreams of not what I should have been but what I did not do, so to be able to make a difference in lives of others. At the same time, I have regret over what I could learn and what were my potentials to explore and exploit my life. I think I became like so many who are moving in my first two inner circles of life and are lost in a directionless existence. Their goals, in my opinion, more of what they would like to be in a short term. I can fathom their lack of desire and action to break themselves free. Some, rather many are not sure of themselves of what they could achieve with their lives. Many, sadly do not realize their true potential. Me, I consider myself in a group in that circle. I seriously feel that I have wasted so much of Time which I could ‘earn’ usefully not in a materialistic way but what I could do to contribute which could have been my earning. I have a self-belief that no matter how difficult, I could have excelled in many ways. In the last decade or so, I have dissipated two years of my life. The unintended dissipation of my concept of ‘Time’ has resulted into reorientation. The tone and tenor of my inner surges have pulled me away sneaking to a new found stimulus. The forces inside me have definitely done one thing for sure of which I have no vacillation. They have kindled my urge to write. Two areas I have begun to free myself to. Write my life story. It has been difficult because of vast empty spaces when it comes to details. I am happy that I kept all diaries, despite so many movements and resetting within the military postings and transfers. These diaries which I wrote with interruptions have helped in jogging my memories as best as I could and relate to events at that time and letting the pen do the rest. The second is writing when I am affected by my own biases, people, and events, impassioned feelings, first impressions and judgemental thoughts. This state remains fleeting and open-ended without leaving any imprints unless I do not gloss them in my words with an exact description of how I felt and with congruent intensity at the time. I have added a couple of my thoughts on my Blog Page as MINDFULNESS and DRIBBLING WITH RUMINATIONS. I have to think of a title or choose a heading, will do so this after I have finished this page. I am occupied presently writing my initial draft of my life story. The idea is to preserve me in black and white. I will leave it behind me for someone to discover me more of what I am. Strong writing skills haven’t been my forte. I do consider myself missing a lot of cardinals of good writing. Browsing the net for Autobiographies and Biographies I have today stumbled upon searching for a list of works of great writers. I accidently found out about great American writer Mark Twain who left instructions not to publish his autobiography until 100 years after his death which was around 2010. I have yet to read the book so cannot right away comment on why? I though know that I would continue to write and leave my draft script for somebody else to take up the challenge. So much for considering myself to be somebody’s challenge.
Let me come to my second part of the action. In 2012 I started painting with great earnest. Self-learning is a great pleasure and in this case tremendous relaxation. It has been now almost 4 years that I have been painting. The weekends are the days I look forward to playing with colors. Gradually after giving away over hundred paintings to friends and colleagues has given me the priceless endorsement of my work. Thanks to Facebook which allowed me to showcase my work to the surprise and bewilderment of many of my friends who did not know of my love for painting. What really pushed me to keep on the painting is a Pakistani cartoonist, caricaturist a painter and a friend Sabir Nazar who lives in Lahore and belongs to Kohat. He told me not to care how good or bad is my work as long as I was doing it myself – that was the trigger which set everything in motion. I tell everyone that I do not consider myself an artist of any sort. I am far away from being a traditional artist. I am self-trained and learned through practice. The painting has given me a life to create. My Hobby is not to just distract myself but to distract away from worldly nickel and dime stuff and other triflings. I am not attracted to colors but it is the colors of nature which pull me. I am not painting to sell. I am driven to paint, but I want to sell. I enjoy the feeling of knowing my works will definitely be a source of adornment. It has already happened and it will continue to be. The paintings I make have been a great source of pleasure. Something very solo and unrepeatable. Something made is final. I hate to correct my mistakes on canvas. Where I have done I have not liked it. Good or bad let it be.
The entire activity with brush and what I write is driven by my absolute and the central key of the relationship of me with Time. I have tried to say and I have written about that. Much is in my mind but the darkness of outer space and the world of moons, suns and stars have convinced me and I say it always for myself that I only live in future. The present for me is not more than a PICOSECOND – one trillion of a second. That is my present to you. Please read and enjoy and comment.
I wrote this piece exactly a month ago – 25th of May 2016. I have read it again today. It was a very special moment when I started writing this. I am beginning to like this way to express myself. It doesn’t happen every time. There are special moments; before I go to sleep, during my drive to work, when I am touched by an event and people I witness on the road and other places. There is an outpouring and an upsurge of thoughts, the turbulence and flutter of ideas as to what I want to say doesn’t remain long. I have started taking notes. The pen and book ready to be opened. I call this for some reason MINDLESS that was the first name I thought I must give to this “Thought”. For now please read this and feel free to express – Thank you ~
There is a vociferous desire in me these days to immediately start writing about my randomly undirected aroused state of consciousness.In this state there are words and ideas which ooze out in fragments which run its course and suddenly I am confronted with another idea. I find sublime explanations injecting it with words, sentences and focussed thoughts. The corresponding words and analogies surprises me as well. Being a painter I am confronted with similar situation during that activity which I pursue whole heartedly. The quizzing I do of myself does not open up real doors. Though for painting my pursuit has been very rewarding. There is still however lot of avenues to stumble on in my quest. There is nothing negative with my emotional state. It is actually the forgetfulness which thwarts my aroused exhuberance. The best words to describe what is in my mind at that point stays momentarily and later I struggle to remind myself what it was I thought off. I could at that very moment choose effectively what I wanted to say and what I could compare it with. I know I need to overcome this weakness one way or the other. The dilution of all thoughts with very few remaining reflections. I am beginning to discover very gradually the transformation. These thoughts are not shrouded anymore. Others have not so far been able either witness or observe the elevated mutation of this change. It has actually started taking shape since last two years or so. It was rare occurence though not so in distant past but I am beginning to like this. At times I feel it has been a late coming. But by nature I am a believer of that with me Time is no impediment if I have to pursue what I could not do earlier I would not be dampened merely because I could have done earlier. I am a great proponent of the idea that there is always time. When there is why then limit yourself by this or that. I think choice of words are very important to chronical my unimaginable and erractic chain of thoughts. Once I have grasped them in full control of my pen I should present it as very lucid piece of articulated thought process. Each idea would then allow me to sieve and crystallize into shapes which genuinely reflect my state of mind. It should allow the reader enter in my mind to wander around and explore. I would love if the limits of my passion is discovered by all senses. The distance and time for me does not matter. The connection should remain established. Questions asked with no holds barred. It should be I reckon a wonderful experience. I would like to cherish that without any qualms about sharing them. I have reached a point in life where I do not get upset of the disclosure. I am not sure everyone feels like that. I think to me it does not matter because I want the perception of what I am should not be contrastive to what I think I am. I have seen people straying and wandering off in misplaced orbit. It is very important, I feel, to commit oneself. I am not looking for praise and acceptance of how I feel, I’m in actuality allowing and learning creation of space for more tangible and touchable feelings. The connection of me and the reciepient develops unconciously with spontainity. This state I suppose is exceedingly complex to accomplish. I have no uncertanity that I won’t acquire the skill to reflect completely what I am reflecting in my mind about. The mind such a powerful medium for me who is constatntly exploring the voyager inside my mind. I have used the word voyager not without an untied reason. The assemply of thoughts may be muddled up right now but is alright. I should remain unfaltering in my quest. The beauty however, is that I am not bound by any format. It should be like that. Means is not necessary as long as I have achieved the explication of the required commentary. My fascination with outer space and its vastness with unending dimensions where everything at one point or the other becomes trivial to an ordinary human being unintelligble. The evolution of human brain has tip toed in time, the distance remains indecipherable. As a fan of stars and planets I am not seeking to unravel into the nature’s scheme, I am not looking at unlocking anything which exists in outer space deep into nothingness. Instead I am taking pleasure in creating on the canvas. It gives me freedom. Nothing to me is stationary out there but in a state of constant change and flux. I have enormous liberation of how and what I produce. That is so exhilarating and intoxicating. The movement of thousands of stars in different orbits with different sizes, the time calculations in thousands of light years is perplexing. I cannot seek myself in any way. Why not must I then free my self. Write and write to myself. I am not seeking wisdom either. An artist who thinks only has squandered Time. MORE LATER
27 August 2005
I keep a pen in my pocket and a paper plonked in every book. The variations in voices transmute, sometimes there is a similitude in what I can hear and which negates disparity, resonate subtle meanings. Words wipe and evaporate yet reflections and images reappear. I have started encomiums of Whitman and legendary Pythagoras. Both in their own capacity consummate the extent of skill, science, dross of art. I feel inevitably drawn towards writing. To angulate its any geometer. Arrange mechanics on the outset and to weave the web of art by the niche of understanding. It is an addiction, foreplay of passion, slowly apt to settle on the verge of ligaments and within tendons of mind, the silhouette of personality and before becoming a realization the repression starts to float rhythmically.