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Blue Moon b Stamatisgr

Seeking means : to have a goal; but finding means: to be free, to be receptive, to have no goal – Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

Early last October, I was given a glimpse of utopia. Tales of birth and lust and love intermingled with a complete release of the body and a bond formed with the universe. Tales of conversations between bodies and souls that seem to have known each other even before a meeting of the minds; tales that forever puncture the fabric of space & time. I have seen the possibilities that life can hold for me. I say this in the midst of some of the darkest days of my life because I know what is possible for me now. I wish I knew more. I long to. So that when the possibility of the potential for that kind of infinite joy comes within reach, I’ll know to grab onto it instantly and let it take me on the ride of my life. I thought I was having it this year and it startled me to realize it. But maybe what happened these past few months was merely meant to be the catalyst for it. I hadn’t realized or maybe I had just forgotten the fact that within the lost crevices of my soul, I could hold the potential for much more. Until then I had merely been mundane. I had foolishly come to terms with the fact that there could possibly be more for me than the decisions I had made or what I thought was a raw deal that life had decided to hand me. That I was just meant to endure much and come out stronger. And live to tell stories and be a tower of strength for others. I had completely lost the plot. Submitting to the naive expectations of the heart and the tales the world tends to tell you. No wonder I have constantly been so dissatisfied during what could have been the most joyous moments of my life.

Why listen to the likes of Jim Morrison (random example) and in my case Nick Drake these days, if we’re just going to put them on play & take off into a weed or drug induced stupor only to come out of it and go on with everyday as though what they saw and promised us about meant nothing? I told a friend recently that I thought the last big revolution of humankind already began and ended before our time. I saw a glimpse of its possibility during Lasantha’s funeral. But maybe that was merely a show of solidarity. I’m not saying the hippies had got it all worked out. But maybe they were onto something. Something that would have at least made the institution we’re so comfortable with worthwhile living in. There are far too many dissatisfied, restless souls in this world for you to disagree with me on that.

I don’t care who becomes the next president because of what he can do for the price of potatoes anymore. I don’t care if I have enough money to pay the rent and drink enough so that it temporarily numbs the constant pain that I have come to acknowledge is my life. These are all just means to survival that I have placed too much faith and hope in over the years. Necessary evils that beget more necessary evils. I’ve welcomed this way of living and kept it comfortably within me for too long now. It’s not about having an opinion about things or learning things and passing them on or living out mundane expectations. It’s not about learning some epic path to wisdom. It’s about what finding out what your own personal happiness is and where it lies. At the end of the day, if we’re not happy, then what’s the point of it all? It sounds like a simple enough statement, but it has been the furthest thing from my reach for far too long now.

I turned 30 a few days ago and I have come to realize that each one of those years have been a waste, save a few precious moments that most people would kill to have. Moments of complete clarity that I have swallowed back when they would surface. Maybe out of fear that the feeling won’t last, maybe out of some sickened desire to have those feelings dwell in a way of life that they weren’t meant for. Hearts break far too often and too many times have I seen a world full of saddened people without a reason to go on. And I have been those people during many junctures in my own life too many times to let it continue. I can’t, I won’t, I refuse to let the next 30 be defined by the same way meaningless existence.

On the night of the Blue Moon I sent a wish out into the great universe that has shown me the potential of myself when I am open to be a constant receptacle, receptive of anything and everything, come what may.

I have written too often about my own simplified philosophy of the missing sandwich. Aiyo! How wrong I have been to think of life in those terms. Of just one missing element that completes us. There is so much more to me and those I love to think of it in such belittling terms. I won’t close this blog down but I will stop blogging here. It will be kept open should I or another soul come by here someday it and find some solace or recognition in what I have written over the years. I am no longer the missing sandwich. This part of my journey is over. It is time to shed the old so that I have enough room to take in the new life, the real one I am meant to live.

I am not preaching or passing on because I sincerely have nothing of worth to tell you. I am just giving you my personal reasons for the decisions I am beginning to make for myself. If I leave you with anything, it will be a plea to find your own personal happy place and stay there. I haven’t found mine in its entirety yet, I have merely seen the potential for it, like I said. But having received a glimpse of it, how can I proceed without it now?

Happy New Year everyone & I wish you all your personal epiphany in 2010, if you haven’t had it yet. Thank you for all you have done and been to me over the years. Thank you for stopping by here when you have. Thank you for becoming my friends and staying that way. You will always hold a place in my heart for that is the one part of me that is already infinite in its ability to welcome and embrace.

May all our dark days be erased, someday.

Goodbye.

I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep & suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life and not when I have come to die discover that I have not lived – Henry David Thoreau

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I woke up in a foul mood today. Instinctively I knew something was wrong. And then I checked the date. I am exactly a month away fro turning 30. A pounding headache & a nightmarish day ensued. And then I checked my mail. A friend of mine sent me a link to a video, posted on this blog. It made me sit still, listen and read and despite the tears at that came at the end of it, I found my reason to believe. I maybe growing older, but my reasons for being are still intact. The personal ones not so much, the purposes more so. Made me want to rush into a phone booth and get into that red cape all over again. It’s beautiful & painful & all too true. Have a watch will ya?

Do pardon the corny song. The lyrics are meant to motivate, so it serves its purpose 🙂

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Obligations | by an3n

Obligations | by an3n

You know I think there’s something grammatically wrong with saying “I feel obligated”. An obligation is not a human emotion. I feel sadness, joy, love, anger. But how can I feel an obligation?

Too much of the world seems to run on it and not on real emotions. I’ve been quiet for a while because I’ve been hibernating. Off from work for a few days. When you’re in the thick of things sometimes it’s too difficult to see what’s going on. When you stand outside of it and look in, it’s easier to see how twisted things are. How twisted even you become as a person without even realizing that you’ve got there.

My question to myself and the world at large, is why we let a word like obligation rule so many things in our life without stopping to realize it. For some of us we’re so far into doing things and being certain types of people based on how obligated we are that it may cause too much damage to try to rectify things. People get married out of obligation. For instance, some people do it when they get a girl pregnant. The wedding becomes a big cover-up, the story goes to say that the baby came early and eventually mom and dad settle down into a pseudo life of parenthood and picket fences. None of it has to do with how the guy really feels about the girl. It has to do with obligation.Doing the right thing. By the world at large, by other people. Never by yourself or your heart.

I made a friend recently in the process of him being 2 months away from marriage. In a few weeks of me knowing him, he called his wedding off. And I have never been prouder of a person for standing by their heart. The getting to know him was purely coincidental, so please bring back those wondering minds to the topic at hand and let’s move on…

He loved her in his own way, he smiled at her innocence and naiveté but somewhere deep inside he knew that she wasn’t the woman who stirred his soul. Eventhough he knew being with the one who did do so wouldn’t be a sure thing, he opted not to settle. He opted not to go through with things that would change his life as he knew it just because of some obligation. He realized that he was not only doing himself long-term harm, but also damaging the life of someone he cared about deeply. He knew breaking her heart now would be better that breaking her soul later. And trust me I know what it is to have a broken soul. Disillusionment will only be on the 3rd page of the glossary if you want me to write Oprah’s book club, best-seller, pseudo ‘self-help’ book on it.

His soul is intact. And so is his optimism. I don’t think I would have been able to say that about him if he didn’t change his mind. I’m not being a psychic when I say that, merely someone who has seen too many people not live by the light they see at the eleventh hour. Simply because of OBLIGATION. Some of them are brave enough to say fuck it to the “what will people think” attitude, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t still follow through with things because of obligation.

They don’t feel obligated. They ARE obligated because they are subconsciously brought up on a false sense of what life is meant to be. We’re taught to be selfless. True. And I have no issues with that. But it’s more about how you live between those lines that give the next generation the perspectives that they tend to live by and pass on to the next. That vicious, vicious cycle has cheated too many generations to let it continue noh?

The woods are lovely, dark & deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep

– Robert Frost, Stopping by woods on a snowy evening

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Love | by Enragedinfliction

Love | by Enragedinfliction

Thanks for the tag DD & DQ. I spent so much time trying to figure out what to put in this post and then I thought what the heck and just started typing, letting it take me where it should. I don’t think I’ve quite got it down yet, but not figuring it out is half the adventure ya?

Love is waking up in the middle of the night to find Stitch curled up into your body like a child, wanting your warmth.

Love is something every poet and songwriter across the planet has tried to nail down unsuccessfully because love will never be the same for everyone. It’s as unique as a fingerprint.

Love is hearing the sound of Stitch & MoCuishle body slamming the gate and whimpering with joy that you’re home each day.

Love is a lonely place because the other person will never feel it the way you do and vice versa.

Love is finding a shoe-box of old love letters and being able to still cry even if the feelings are all gone because you can still remember that you were able to love so completely.

Love is 6 pm at Old Joes with Dhammika, Pahan, Paul, David, Bandu, Mahesh and the rest of the boys, singing Sinhala songs over old arrack and deviled pork served by Raja way back when.

Love is cleaning up someone’s puke without flinching and nursing their hangover when they finally wake up.

Love is Wy, writing a post to remind me that I am stronger than the world gives me credit for after the many cat-fights we’ve had.

Love is sitting on a lonely beach and singing ‘somewhere out there’, knowing deep in your heart that the words must be true.

Love is rolling on the floor with uncontainable laughter with your best friend as you read your teenage diaries to one another, knowing how far you’ve come and how much you’re still the same.

Love is crying at your own wedding when the choir sings ‘love is only for the lucky and the strong’ because you’re still wondering if you’re either one.

Love is two strangers who find themselves in a port on a lonely, stormy night and deciding to adventure the world together without questioning or analyzing what it’s all about

Love is Brandon holding you while you cry feeling that your life as amounted to nothing, and him proceeding to write a poem for you that means so much.

Love is Mirantha holding you in his parents’ water-bed at age 7 until you fall asleep and it’s holding onto his gravestone 2 decades later and hoping that he is at peace wherever he is

Love is when it is not acknowledged and you still know it when you look into eachothers’ eyes in the heat of passion and see a tear fighting to break lose

Love is breaking free from someone who hurts you and learning to find your way in the big bad world again.

Love is knowing that sometimes it is not returned and learning to live with it.

Love is Vimu never forgetting what you did for him even if he now rubs shoulders with the worlds’ greatest

Love is your moment on stage when you know you’ve got it right because you audience either gasps or sighs or cries or laughs with you, feeling it with you

Love is knowing that you are going to be let down by the very people you love most and still being able to love them

Love is what turns people cynical because the best of things aren’t meant to last simply because we think that chemistry is love and not the real connection that comes in between the heat

Love is still being able to take a risk with your heart when life has given you every reason not to

Happy now D? 😉

Anyone who wants to write a similar post, please tag yourselves.

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For those of you who follow my blog, you’ll know that I am actively involved with the LGBTIQ community in Sri Lanka. But this post has nothing to do with that. It has more to do with my subconscious observations of human choices and needs that started (the observations, I mean) way before I became an advocate/activist and continues to date. It’s not quite an analysis of why people do what they do but merely a stating of facts. It’s about what people do with their sexuality/sexual orientation. There maybe no right or wrong, just as being of any sexual orientation isn’t wrong. They are merely moments that have been stuck in my head like a diary that I think I need to put down…

Sexuality | by Laura Ashdown

Sexuality | by Laura Ashdown

Some people live the perfect external existence of heterosexuals. They marry, have children and live out all that is expected of them whilst they turn to multiple same sex lovers in darkened spaces and places in their lives.

Some very ‘straight’ individuals opt to ‘turn’ gay or bisexual for various reasons. They deem it palatable when they weigh it against the benefits. Some for money, some because it’s a convenient escape from bad memories with people of the opposite sex, some simply because they think people of the same sex relate to them better.

Some are proud to be different. It’s not that they chose to swim against the wave, but find themselves against a current and still opt fight it, with pride and conviction. They stand up to a world with a multitude of different voices and say “I’m gay”, “I’m lesbian” etc. And they are willing to fight the good fight until they are accepted for who they are… pretty much more normal than most of the apparent straight laced fellows on the planet.

Some see no difference at all. Sexuality shouldn’t be a differentiating factor just like other givens like race, nationality, hair colour etc. For them there is only one cry, one statement that holds true to the entire human race; the fact that we are ‘one’.

Some stay with their straight lovers for as long as they can, finding their experiences enjoyable but void of moments that take their breath away and a certain oomph that they know that they’ll only find when they’re ready to break free and venture into new territory.

Some go through a great deal of their lives thinking they’re straight only to wake up one day and realize that there is more to life than the mundane they’ve been experiencing and walk readily into a life that holds so much more.

Some have no choice. They love in secret because they have it ingrained in their souls that it they cannot hurt the ones they love. Because, in the process of discovering their sexualities, they are also reminded of the others in their lives, like family and friends whose hearts would be broken if they were to love as they need to, out in the open, just like everyone else. They are stuck between their lovers and everyone else they love.

Some who are born to the privilege of ‘normalcy’ don’t understand the hue and cry from those that are different to them. They don’t understand the very essence of the fact that there could be anything different to the way they think and feel in the first place.

Some have the conviction that every non heterosexual person should ‘come out of the closet’. There is no point hiding who you are. Irrespective of the big, bad world out there, within a community of people who are similar to you, there should be no need to hide who you are and opt for so called ‘better’ company instead.

Some go through life knowing that they aren’t heterosexual right from puberty. They experiment with the same sex but grow up opting not to talk about it. They believe that sex, in any form is personal and should be kept behind closed doors where it belongs. They have no need to ‘come out of the closet’ so-to-speak and don’t understand why some others try to force them to. They believe that the openness of ones sexuality should be a matter of choice. They way they are, suits them just fine after all.

Some opt to go through life pretending and denying themselves of the possibility of more than they have. They go through the motions of life, not knowing how much more is waiting out there for them.

Some rare few are born into families who have no issue with their sexualities or any other choices their children make. They have the opportunity to live their lives free of the prejudice that is an inevitability for most others.

Some dress different, which has no relation their sexuality but get tagged as a certain ‘type’ or sexuality. They don’t know how to let the world know that the outward expression has nothing to with their sexuality or gender*. (see below)

Some have the strong need to identify themselves and be known as one sexuality or the other. They believe that identification markers are an important part of one’s individuality and expression. They are proud to be gay, just as they are proud to be Sri Lankan.

Some people have fluctuating sexualities. They go through life being different sexualities at different points in their lives. They make statements like ‘I’m straight again’, much to the chagrin of their contemporaries although they don’t seem to find any choice in the matter.

Some don’t feel any need to tag themselves based on their sexual behaviour or the people they chose to love. They are in essence, people who don’t believe in the need for tags. They seem to be able love irrespective of a person’s gender* or sexuality.

Some have no clue what to tag themselves as, even if they wanted to. They know they are attracted to both sexes, have been involved with both as well, but can’t seem to pay any heed to a person’s sex or genitalia when it comes to matters of the heart. They wear their hearts on their sleeves, but find ‘bi-sexual’ too limiting a word to use when it comes to love.

Some are merely disgruntled with their relationships and turn towards a new direction hoping to find some peace and love and comfort there, without stopping to question if they belong there or not. Some do. Some don’t. Sometimes both situations work out, sometimes neither do.

Some identify their sexualities based on their sexual behaviour patterns and not by their feelings at all. They’ve not been exposed to the fact that one’s sexuality is not merely determined by having sex and has to do with a complete emotional, physical and spiritual attachment to one gender* or the other.

*Gender is an entirely different issue altogether which only my friend Skywalker can describe with such apt eloquence that I’ll never be able to find on my own, as he’s done here.

There are many more observations that you have probably made. Mine were in relation to people’s sexualities within the bounds of my observations and I thought I’d share them with you. And within those very limitations, I want to still bring back my initial point; nothing is wrong or right.

To round it all off, I’m reminded of a that I think is most apt. I’ve been listening to it while typing this post out but can’t seem to upload ot or find a proper video since youtube is bloody blocked at work. It’s an original by Seal, covered by Alanis Morisette by the name of “Crazy”. Try and give it a listen if you have the time. I’m sure you’ve all heard it. 😛

We’re never going to survive unless we get a little crazy

In a world full of people only some want to fly. Isn’t that crazy?

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No, no this not about the Lansi Recreational Group. If such a thing even exists that it. What with the BRC and BA, I wouldn’t be surprised. And I’m certainly not complaining. For someone whose an ethnic sambol, the Burgher side of me loves the put a party attitude.

Getting back to the topic at hand though; BRG. One might call it a tad old fashioned, but I think it should still hold in this day and age when everything else of value that added to the quality of life seems to have diminished.

Take your average relationship. I am talking strictly in a concrete jungle and its suburbs kind of sense of course. People meet and date. They use the term going out, as if to imply that their relationship consists primarily or even solely of going to places together and I don’t mean in a metaphorical sense. A few years into it (and in some cases mere months) the parents are told and eventually introduced to each other as well. The couple move up the career ladder, mingle with each others’ friends from school and work. “Party” together. Apparently going out and getting smashed and dancing the night away is a party. It is no more the thing you got an invite to. Party has become a word. People go partying. A few years into it a rational discussion takes place as to when and where since it’s high time and before you know it you’ve booked a hotel, a band, sent the invitations and low and behold you’re a married couple. Slightly reduced goings out and partying, but you still go out of course. Cook together, watch TV together, travel together…

I could keep going on and on about this pattern, but my point is that something vital is missing. And I’m not talking about love. I sincerely hope that in the midst of going to places and partying, some love managed to creep in and stay there! No, that’s not what I’m on about at all!

The BRG I was referring to at the beginning of this post is the Big Romantic Gesture. Sweeping her off your feet. Taking his breath away. Marriage is supposed to be as a result of a proposal. A knock the socks of him or her proposal. And it’s not just in reference to marriage at all. I’ve become the biggest supporter of the un-marriage these days after all.

Swept off his Feet | by SKILZFLIX

Swept off his Feet | by SKILZFLIX

Romance doesn’t have to be about roses and chocolates. I agree very much that we’ve moved away from such clichés. It’s not about the movie gestures. It could just be a blog post that the other person will read and walk around with a shit-eating grin as a result. It’s going to Nuwara Eliya and looking for magic mushrooms like a madman. It’s bringing her strawberries because they tell you it’s an aphrodisiac. Romance and the BRG is what you make of it, what feels right for the two of you. But please don’t let it be dead!

Call me old fashioned, but like I mentioned earlier, we’ve given up on so much else, should we also be content that romance is dead in a new age world of “adult” relationships and sedate expressions of love?

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Yes, yes, I know it seems as though I can’t get enough of the Smashing Pumpkins this year. But tonight, tonight has been speaking volumes to me over the past 8 months.

This particular line, the title of my post, more than the one I love to trip on (believe in the resolute urgency of now) really rips at my gut. In the middle of a song about living in the moment, they drop this excruciating, hard to accept brick at you – the more you change, the less you feel. And you can’t help but realize how true it is.

This post has been on my mind for a while but I just can’t seem to find the right words to say it with. I’ve had many conversations with friends over the past few weeks about it too. All about the fact that we’re unable to feel like we used to. That inability to feel those intense emotions we used to feel when we were younger. The rush, the feel, the thrill of the chase and even the pain of loss all seem mellowed down versions of what they used to be. But the biggest grouse is if I am actually able to love again. Or hurt intensely again as a result of that love turning sour. Am I only meant to have that one great love in my life? Isn’t it possible to love again? To feel those things that made me realize that I am alive? It’s saddening to grow up if this is what growing up turns you into. Or is it simply a mind block? Or is it that the person I will be able to feel those things about hasn’t quite come around yet?

A friend was telling me that he ended a relationship that was near perfection to him because he realized that he really wasn’t feeling it. That amazing gut-wrenching feeling that he felt with the last person he was in love with simply wasn’t there. And I couldn’t help but nod in agreement and get quite worked up about it because it’s exactly the same with me. The more we change and the more we grow up, the less we are able to feel. Our minds tend to over power our hearts instead of it being the other way around, the way it used to be. Another friend told me that when he broke up with a girlfriend years ago he was shattered but when he recently broke up with his last girlfriend, things felt so very different. Yes, he missed the loss of the familiarity of having her around, but he said it was all very adult and he didn’t feel like his world was ripped apart.

With me, I doubt it has anything to do with inner strength or anything like it. I just feel that as I grow stronger as a person, my heart grows weaker. At the soul, the core of my being was someone who used to get a rush out of things and all I feel now are mediocre emotions. I listen to love songs, watch soppy movies, pine for Heathcliff… all to no avail because they just make me long for what I have lost even more so. Every nerve ending used to be charged with emotions. Not to say I was emo or anything like that, but my heart used to be my strongest asset. I used to feel for people, for causes, for everything. And now all I have is a consciously forced push in that direction because heading in the opposite one will surely be the death of me. I can’t be cold. That for sure, is not in me to be. But lukewarm is a far more saddening state of being, don’t you think?

As oxymoronish (I coined a word!) as it may sound, it is really heart breaking that my heart may not break again.

Mended Heart by Metaltamer

Mended Heart by Metaltamer

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