Silence

I have Tinnitus.

It is surprising to learn that the sound stems from my own hearing system. From the apparatus itself. Mostly it sounds like a roomful of insects humming a constant high pitched orchestra. Sometimes it is so loud that I feel forced to put my hands to my ears in a familiar "shut out the sound" motion, except that I cant shut out whats in.

It keeps me awake at nights, drowns out out voices aggressively, muffles the sound of music, is strident and pervasive. I feel disabled. Yet, there are times when it is so low that it can be ignored. At that time I feel close to silence, relative silence. And then I know I am not stressing myself out.

It is then also a indicator of my anxiety, my own biofeedback apparatus.

Tennyson. To yield or not to yield

Tennyson says famously: "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield"

And of course its true.

And how should it be interpreted?
I would think it applied to not yielding to discouragement, fear, temptation, to time, despair, disappointment, old age and more.

But not yield? To be unyielding? To be firm? That I cannot see as a positive attribute. Of course man must yield to chances, to opportunities. To life itself!

When seen against earlier lines in this very same poem it poses a contradiction.

"How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life Were all too little..."

And then yet again later Tennyson says 'Come, my friends, "Tis not too late to seek a newer world."

Therein is the contradiction in my opinion. How can one move forward, make new discoveries, indeed shine and be burnished if one did not dare to yield? The being able to yield, to be able to put aside ones thoughts, fears, 'shoulds' and 'should nots' and melt into the moment, become the moment, go with the impulse- that is the real challenge. Only then is movement and true change possible, true transformation and true participation. Only then can one say

"I am a part of all that I have met"

Shadows then

Everything there is to know in this world is inside of us.

Listen, and when you hear, listen again. Maybe deeper, maybe not.

See and when seeing, see again. Not to see more but to see better. Not deeper but clearer; without shadows. For one such glimpse ...!
Does one get better at going deeper or does the deeper only become more accessible?

Shadows then. Clouding what is real, true, pure, urgent. The Russian poet Marina Tsvetayeva wrote: 'It may be that a better way/To conquer time and the world/Is to pass, and not to leave a shadow/ on the walls...'.

Shadows then. Ghosts that live in our minds, on our minds. To survive them is the battle. Love and separation from ones own children is not worse than separation from ones own self.

Shadows then. How best to escape their influence? One needs a semblance of a locked room where silence becomes inevitable. Everyday conversation falls away, its superfluity and redundancy revealed. Over time one loses the ability to speak cleverly, to express oneself in well rehearsed ways even platitudes. This falling away of articulation is a gift. It leaves only emptiness and the deep nothingness that is full.

Reality-Fiction-Reality

This quote by Marco Tempest the magician and illusionist:
We willingly enter fictional worlds where we cheer our heroes and cry for friends we never had.” sums up the passion of Indians for films doesn't it? Jai and Veeru of Sholay are as real to us as our friends. Maybe Veeru still lives somewhere in Rampur with Basanti? Surely there must be a memorial dedicated to Bhuvan in Champaner? Kabir Khan of Chak de India and Silk Smitha of Dirty Picture are better known then their real-life counterparts.

Do we Indians cheer and cry more for our fictional heroes than our real life ones?