The Ship of Theseus

The Ship of Theseus, also known as Theseus's paradox, is a paradox that raises the question of whether an object which has had all its components replaced remains fundamentally the same object. (Wikipedia)

I've always thought about this. About identity. And your sense of self. And your soul. About the things that make these up. And whether, when the foundations change, these things change as well? I think they do. And when the sense of self and soul changes - are you better, because you've learnt and grown, or are you worse, because you've lost some of that innocence?

Is the change irreversible? And do you, with time, become unrecognizable, a completely different person?

Would you like that?

What if the person you used to be was someone you had complete control over. And then life happened. And that person got changed. One dream, one heartbeat, one desire at a time. What if this new person is someone you are grappling with, trying to understand, to reign in.

Would you still like that?

And now, what of your life. No matter what happens, how things change, from birth to death, it will be your life. That will be its fundamental definition. But what if you thought it will take a certain path - and then it goes off somewhere you never thought it would? What if the object (that is your life) got replaced one component at a time - new days, new moments, new memories. Would it still be your life as you recognize it? Or would it become something surreal - a movie that features you, but isn't directed by you.

What would you do then?

And finally, what of the people who hold a place in your heart. What if the place they hold changes? What if they rearrange everything, mess up your symmetry, push their way from the periphery to the center...or somewhere thereabouts? Would you still be the same person who thought a certain way about attachment. And detatchment? Would changing the way you feel - change you?

Who would you be then?

A new story? A new beginning? Or just some new chapters? A new soul? A new person? Or the same old girl...with some unexpected new thoughts.

Would it matter? Would you mind if it did?

Someone once told me that I'm like a Rubik's cube. Different faces, different colours - and the process of figuring me out is both fascinating and frustrating.

I've never been paid a bigger compliment. Or a crueler one.

It's a complete Catch 22 situation isn't it. If someone doesn't figure me out, I'm lost. If someone does, then they will probably run for their lives :)

You see, we tend to be essentially selfish people. Caught up in our unrealistic dreams, unmet expectations, trying to carve out an identity that doesn't make us feel like just another speck in the crowd. We don't really have the time to listen to others hopes and dreams, to take care of their secrets when they trust us enough to open up to us.

We live in fishbowls for the better parts of our lives. And when we suddenly see someone tapping their finger on that glass, we realize two things all at once.

That there are people on the other side of that glass who have gotten out, who are experiencing a whole new world.

And that we have no fucking clue how to get there.

And then we are stuck - too cramped to be cozy and too secure to jump out. We keep thinking of the life beyond the bowl. We keep imagining what it will be like to live. But we mostly just settle for the water being changed in our container.

And in all that, in trying to survive, in going round in circles, in swimming with the current - only a couple of things remain.

The realization that we can either be good - or be happy.

Be good, do what everyone expects you to do, live life by the book. Or be happy - live life on your terms, perhaps disappoint some people, exasperate others, but not be restricted by a convex view of life.

Sometimes you can be both - but for that, you perhaps need to run alone.

Run really, really hard - so that you're short of breath and your sides hurt
Run - so that you can leave the beaten track behind and try a whole new path
Run - and hope that somewhere someone can keep pace with you.

And if you manage to cross the finish line and get on to a podium defined by your dreams - then that's the biggest win you can hope for.

It doesn't matter what you've achieved, what matters is you decided your own destination and defined your own path to get there.

And if someone has run that race with you, understood your need to keep moving and kept pace - well then you've solved the puzzle. You've become more than a speck in the crowd.

But heere's the thing. Most days, we don't even have the time to figure ourselves out.

And here we are hoping someone else will get it.

Silly us.

Date A Girl Who Doesn't Read

Books will not be the only companion she needs on most days. She will have plenty of time to pander to your need for attention. And to the inflated position you give yourself in her life. She won't get lost between the pages - or travel to other worlds in her mind.

She will not demand textbook happy-endings. She will know life for what it is - and quietly accept it's ground realities. She will not romanticize memories or goodbyes. She will not even look back to see if you are looking back. You will be free.

She will not read between the lines. Or expect you to. That will save so much of miscommunication - and cut down on random musings, 'what-if' conversations, unrealistic ideals.

She will not expect you to read between the lines either. She will tell you like it is. So you know exactly what she wants, what she needs. No more surprises - or the stress of having to keep the mystery of your relationship alive.

Vocabularies will be limited - so you won't need to watch what you say, or how you say it.

She won't hold physical intimacy up as more than it's meant to be. You won't need to look into her eyes and whisper sweet nothings during sex. She won't sit and sulk if you don't hold her afterwards. Sex will be sex. Nothing more. Perhaps a little less.

You won't need to know who Murakami is. What Richard Bach says about love. What Camus says about life. Which Wodehouse book is her favourite. Or which Ayn Rand character fills her with awe.

You won't need to console her when her favourite character dies. Or put up with her restlessness as she waits for the next book in the series she is currently immersed in.

She will not believe in magic. In impossible dreams coming true. She will be comfortable within the limits life sets for her. She won't expect you to drop everything and go on a treasure hunt. Even if that hunt starts from your couch with a hot cup of coffee. She will be content to just change the TV channel.

She will not look for the hero in you. You don't need to measure up. Her expectations are limited to who you are. Not who she thinks you can be. With her, you won't need to strive to be a better man. You can just be normal, everyday, ordinary, average.

Don't date a girl who reads.

She will demand passion. She will expect euphoria.
She will make you restless. She will make you illogical.

She will make you want more. Always. And that might make you uncomfortable.

The inspiration for this one.

Rambling

Addicted
to carefree moments

Captivated
by what I see

Intoxicated
with unspoken thoughts

Enraptured
by expressed desires

Smitten.

Mirror, mirror on the wall

Rejection is the worst experience one can ever go through.

Worse than heartbreak.

Worse than betrayal.

Worse than failure.

It claws at you, gnaws away at the insides – and you can’t ignore that tiny little voice inside your head that gleefully keeps whispering “You’re not good enough.”

You can believe otherwise. You can know it’s not your fault. Or anyone else’s. It still doesn’t change anything. The insecurity, the questions, the sheer distress just keeps rushing back. Every. Single. Time.

Even when it's not rejection but some stupid twist of fate. Or circumstances.

It’s vastly unfair that another person should have the power to make you feel like this. A person who has no role in how you have shaped up, no contribution towards you as a person, who just happens to be there.

But is that logical? After all, if that person is there – then they necessarily have a role to play. And if they are making you feel a certain way, then chances are you have given them that power.

Then who is really to blame? They? Or you?

And how many times you can go through this before becoming immune to it? Before it stops hurting like a bitch?

And you stop hating yourself for hurting.

Ether

“I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a  shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps "Oh look at that!"  Then- whoosh, and I'm gone...and they'll never see anything like it ever  again... and they won't be able to forget me- ever.”- Jim Morrison

But the problem is, I might not be able to forget either. And then I will be left with the aftermath of the light, the debris...of the what-ifs.