It is not love that doesn't lead to death. The death of the fear of being vulnerable. The death of the fear of being hurt. The death of the fear for the all-overpowering joy that love can bring. Each death in love leads to a new birth of the soul. Drenched in the light of the sun, you can not tell if the soul is a golden orb of fire or of light. Loving once is not like dying once. The clamour to preserve the walls that lock in and hence protect the self rises each time it is demolished. Each time love passes through such a wall, making it disappear into dust, another wall, somewhere ahead is born. To cross each wall, death must come in the hands of love.
Can you believe in this realm of life, the one in which we live and hope to love, that love is a power? Can you believe that loving is a vulnerability as well as a strength? It actually is, if we see at love without fear. Love is knowing the limitations and walking along. This idea of walking along needs continual renewed fervour. We are afraid to exert ourselves to that extent. We are secured in our habit of living with the image. We are afraid to look behind the mirror, or beyond it. We are after all afraid of all the new that can be born from our own selves. Love is a challenge to face that fear. Not all new is blissful, not all new comes with calm. And that is possibly the reason why utopias don't exist. The picture perfect image is good only within the frame that hangs in our drawing rooms.
Love is the principle of life itself. It doesn't promise all glory, all smiles, all affection. It does promise a lifetime of an experience. It can be a process of individuation, a realisation of the amazing potential that lies dormant in each of us.
With the risk of being termed cliched, these words pour out in this space, populating a deep rooted idea that, all that life is, is, ultimately about evolving as a better individual. The possibility of loving another individual (loving in the sense the prince in Starbook expresses, or as the humble blogger meditates upon it) arises only when one can love oneself with all the promises and all the failures that one is. Loving then becomes an act one bestows upon oneself in the journey of becoming the best one can. And the best you can be is by surrendering all the fears of the past, the present or the future ... like a fish in the water, like a bird in the air ...
5 comments:
Hi! Sushmita, As always your power of capturing the subject has been immaculate.We do have to diminish walls to reach another soul and feel the pulse of sensibility with such intensity that it appears to be our own sensibility sometimes.Yet romanticisms has many flavours and experiencing the myriad flavours created different succinct imageries which perhaps a deft writer like you would be in a better position to capture.How can we forget about the love Satyacharan grew for the nature and its inhabitants in Aranyak by Bibhutibhusan or by the Postmaster in Rabindranaths noted short story Postmaster for Ratan.However we may find a different kind of love for Mangan's sister in James Joyce's Araby.Moreover our life exemplifies that there are facts beyond the English Lecture classes in the University...Love has 1189 definations.
@Sandipan: :) thank you for at least a few of the 1189 definitions :) ...
enjoyed listening to 'sweet surrender'..: ) yes, it takes strength to truly love and live, as pointed out....good flow of ideas....
@SprigBlossoms: Thank you for listening :)
Darun
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