I am

What am I passionate about? How do I want my ideal day to be? Why are these such hard questions for me? Is it because I am so dreadfully scared of searching or looking for what I am passionate about. Can we really find something that we are passionate about? Or, is it just my own vanity?

It seems to me that I can’t find it is because my passion is so personal, so treasured, and so protected that I do not want to bring to the surface lest it loses its validity and veracity. It’s so personal that I am extremely touchy about it. It’s so huge that if you analyze with your peanut sized brain - I won't stand it. Don’t’ ever say that it's stupid. Just hold onto it for now - as I brainstorm my ownself.

So this is what has happened. I have in a way forgotten what it is. It is somewhat like protecting or keeping away your precious possession – that mark-sheet, or that first love letter that you kept in such a safe place that no one can find it only to realize over time that you yourself have forgotten about where you kept it. With my passion - since the time I have forgotten, I don’t really know what I am living for. It seems I have been riding my horse called life in the direction the horse wants to go. And when it is going I don’t even know where the hell it is headed. I don’t want to stop, just ride along and smell the roses. Where it goes does not matter. I know it will dissolve into the universal cosmic dream.

Do I construe that I have nowhere to go? Or, am I too scared to sound preposterous or too ashamed to proclaim that my life has come down to food, ---, and silence. And any semblance to fulfilment of the possibility arounds these three axes is all that's there for me, all that I care about. That’s where my passion lies, that’s where my carnal desires lie, and that’s where my day begins and day ends. And to get to there, I am willing to put up with the fight. The daily chores - waking up, going to work, making a good name, pleasing others, and earning money. The rest is just a bouquet of derivatives, corollaries, and means to the end. What a sham human life is? What big actors we all are? We are something during the day – running to drive our existence a meaning and at night – like right now, all I care is a pathway to silence and that pathway comes through that heavenly gateway – the doors to which can only be unlocked by her divine grace. Right now, that’s where my passions are reeling and aching my forlorn body.