Everything is "written" or so as it is said. Life has a complicated yet beautiful way of functioning in circles. Decisions or choices which are already made are thrust upon us to be re made, simply to make us believe that we are in control. Situations manifest themselves in ways such that we are made to believe that we manipulate the choice we make, in accordance with the one that is already "written", and still feel in control. Are we are the ones controlling and leading our life towards our destiny, or some external hand that is incessantly leading us down the path. If the latter is true, then how much are we in control. Who is the one who "writes" it all down and scripts it ever so brilliant to make the matrix seem non existent. "There is someone in my head but its not me". Brilliant poets have emphasized that when you don't know where you are going, any road will lead you to it in some words or others. Even to the extent that you can not change the direction of the wind, but you can change your course to suit it.
How do you reach "IT" when you do not even know where you are going. Is it a simple case of the aimless never getting lost. Would you trust the invisible force to do justice? Do we own our lives or we are just a medium through which a hidden director films a bigger picture? Can you simply hang yourselves on someone Else's words or in this case, unheard scripts?
I have felt at peace and eternal bliss when i have let the script run its course. Somehow it has felt better when i haven't tried to control things that have happened but rather enjoy them unraveling itself in front of me. I felt in sync. Sync with simplicity and easiness. "No more money, No more fancy dress, the other kingdom seemed by far the best, until it reveals the jaws of incest". Why does Jim Morrison say, he had to set us free, since we will never follow him. He knew something, the magnificent and well read poet that he was, but he couldn't tell it to us. He had been through "The doors" and often come back to leave us clues. Clues that could only help us. It was his job, as a shaman, to help the erring fools bound by material gains.
It was so vivid, lucid and omnipresent, yet unnervingly beautiful that we wouldn't have understood its cardinality. Until and unless we ourselves are the discovers, it has no meaning, no emphasis, no importance, the lesson has lost its meaning.
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