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Trapped in the frames of a body
in the frames of many minds and then there is that distant ancient memory that calls out vast open lands, sacred groves, forests, trees you cannot reach roots of the ficus, scent of rain on parched earth rivers long forgotten flowing relentlessly through your being that ancient memory beckons you to come home and you look at the city around you you stop abruptly you don't understand the bleakness that follows taunts the new mind And there is just that sense of being trapped not seeking a holiday an excuse, but a change in the way of that which we call living!
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Some days I just wait and wander with no feeling. It is as if the people, the work, the life I know, nothing really touches me. I worry at the emptiness and disconnectedness of it. I could create something, a painting, a poem, a reflection as I am doing now, but I have no desire to. There is just a haunting emptiness at the edge of new beginnings, old stories. I speak, I communicate, but I am simply tired, disengaged. An overwhelming weight drags me down as I wake up day after day with the weight of the dead. There are no big issues, no great problems and yet something just slowly crunches me, a shattering sense of disappointment. It is just one more feeling amidst many others. Perhaps it will go away in time, perhaps it will be in residence for a while. Some days I just wait and wander, with no memories that drag me down, and yet feeling the weight of the dead. I know this tiredness. It is not new. I wait for it to pass. The simple yet tragic weight of human life, its fullness and its emptiness, the vast interconnectedness that we are no more aware of, the mindless greed coupled with the ignorant simple desire to grow, the active need to be part of a change, the lost voice of an unheard struggle, the poetry of a being on the threshold of anger forever dissolving into pain or perhaps the other way round. I know this tiredness. It is not new. I wait for it to pass. The physical body withers, the mind shatters The soul wanders aimlessly, intuition cages itself The energies dissipate in chaos, identity disengages The mask of the familiar face, the known form stays on... I know this tiredness. It is not new. I wait for it to pass. |
Srivi KalyanSrivi Kalyan works at the fluid and exciting intersection of arts, media and education. She is the Founder-Director of Fooniferse, a company that enables a 360 degree approach to working in the arts through a confluence of arts, education, media, design and self-reflection. Archives
March 2017
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