What becomes of it all?

Have you ever had these kind of days?

Long hectic ones, tiresome — where so much happened, where you spoke so much, talked to your heart’s content, but still at night, you can’t just go off to sleep.

So, you think, wonder, ponder,

listening to the pitter-patter of rain in the midst of May.

For a tiny fraction of a moment, the thoughts pause as you listen to the rain.

And all those thousands of thoughts, the aches in the body, and the unseen burden of the mind filled with complaints and apprehension about someone…. just vanish.

Well, not completely, but they become tiny.

Like the earth in a milky way.

The perspective shifts to a bigger picture, and it just doesn’t matter anymore.

So, what becomes of it all?

Do they really vanish? The past and the future apprehensions?

Or did they lose their importance when you were fully listening to the rain?

Drip, drop, drip.

Trip, trop, trip.

We are horrendously confined in our own minds, in thoughts of me, mine and maybe extending to family or work.

What about Nature? What about Universe?

What becomes of it all?

Comes and goes. It all comes and goes.

Then why do we stay stuck in our minds so much? in the things that we identify with so much?

Example: I was (still sometimes am) obsessed with telling people around me that reproduction is a choice. I was flabbergasted that everyone just assumes that next step after getting married is having kids. Can we not pause for a second to see how conditioned it is just like everything else we’re taught? (See, how easily I digress in my obsessive rambling? Lol.)

I have always identified with being some kind of a rebel. Maybe it was inherent curious nature, or J. Krishnamurti’s book I read in my childhood that asked me to question everything I was taught.

Whatever the influence, this rebel nature is hard to shake off. It just springs forth when there’s something against my principles or values.

It’s only rainy nights like these that pause those thoughts, that bring some larger perspective.

So, what becomes of it all?

Drip, drop, drip.


~ ~ ~ ~


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