Pyscho Me

Writing this from within the American Airlines flight to India. It is a fourteen hour trip and although the thought of being stuck in a place is daunting, I think it will go all well. So many ideas racing through my mind, so many memories of the most immediate and far off resounding in my system- I am conscious of each of them and of how restless they make me; and yet all thoughts merge and give me a sense of being one with my own self. All the sweetness and bitterness of life is getting churned into a single orchestrated tune. The effect is mesmerizing. There is a sudden manifest euphoria and the next moment a sense of loss. I am frowning now, and now my fists tighten and now I smile to myself. Is this how I will feel when I am dying ? Will the recollection of life be so overpowering and mysterious at that time or would I have discovered what it was all along which in these times I am unable to lay a finger on? Perhaps I am just stoned from cabin pressure, but I have had these thoughts before. The daze is not a novelty. I remember having stared into space before once when I was standing in my balcony on the eight floor, then in a night club with loud music blazing away and most recently when I was just sitting around with friends. And yet this schizophrenia is essential to me. I wonder why it is so. There is something I have not discovered about myself that makes me takes refuge in these thoughts. Why do I have to go into a daze to experience an intense emotion such as this? It is like walking into an ocean by the beach and waiting with knees folded for the wave to approach and engulf you. It is that exactly - letting myself get swept by a whirlwind filled with thoughts of beautiful moments that quietly brushed me, those that had the promise of eternity. I gripped myself in these times as I do even now and resisted being carried away. I stood stiff and closed my eyes and captured the beauty instead and then moved onto something new and as beautiful. The sight of an ocean, the lights from a line of skyscrapers, the gleam in someone's wondrous eyes and the warmth of the cold green mountain grass removed from the earth. I stayed with none of these and yet moved to something even better. These brief movies and their scores are alive in my brain and they fill up my being. At times when I am distressed from the "everyday" things I walk into this theater and let one of these movies play; and every time the movie is a bit longer and harder to resist.