Day One.

sleep perchance dreams…

sleep = dreams?

how about to be awake and yet to dream?

what dreams?

dreams of alternatives…

but why the alternatives?

Today is indeed a meaningful day. And I almost get the grasp of “live the day as if you’ll live forever and live the day as if you’ll die tomorrow”. Almost.

Intriguing enough, my ordinary life as a meaning seeker started as early as six in the morning. Being shaken off from the restless slumber, I woke up in daze. Instead of blood, thick lead seemed to be running throughout my veins. Yup! The ugly draggy laziness. The thought that this would be the day where the challenges would be ready to devour me made those numb feet and brain stirred to life. Jumping off the bed, in a jiff I was ready for action.

The first challenge of the day was to quieten the bodily melody. A morsel of Arabian delicacy was fed to satisfy, just satisfy, not to fully satify the raging disturbance. End of the first chapter and onward to the second challenge.

To be charged with ideas somewhat distant from my ideals. To be exposed with the intricacies of education, politics and one’s principles. To be ripped open and rendered to the bitter reality. To uphold one’s virtues. To muse on the glory of the golden era. My mind started to feel the warmth. The dormant machine started to pump. Comparing. Evaluating. Judging. Connecting. Thinking? The beginning of a journey.

Third. The most difficult of all challenges of the day. Ever, at the receiving end. Am I being manipulative? Am I being opportunistic? Am I being stingy? Worst. I felt and always feel like a beggar feeding from the palms. Totally inadequate. Social justice and sharing of wealth. On my part, what wealth?

The fourth. Repetition? Refresher? Reminder. Almost anesthetized my ready-to-work-out neurons. My medula oblongata was crying out loud for difference. Yet, have to abide for the sake of those newbies. A bit of a pause.

The fifth and the ultimate. A pleasurable self inflicted pain. Huh? Mind bondage? Though it might look like a hard control, being prisoned within the dull four white walls from six to eight thirty with a grumbling organ to be disciplined, in actuality it is a soft control. As I perceive it. Sharp stabs, like acupuncture needles, are dart-thrown to awaken the sleeping beauty. New concepts. No. Unthinkable alien concept was introduced. Far from the expected. Far from what sketched in my worldview. Mind-boggling yet true to the every single veins and senses. Social justice. Creating our own narrative. Learning, an accident, from the life. Living the knowledge in its purest being. Torturous? Nope. An unnoticed torture. A delightful enlightening brute. Crave for it. Addicted to it. Looking forward for it. Doesn’t it look like a soft control?

Well. This is what I am trying to do. This is what I am exercising and disciplining myself to do.

Writing a narrative. Critical.

It may not make sense. It may not sound sane. This is just the beginning. Day one.