Things That Bang

According to Julia Cameron the best way to get over a writer's block is to write morning pages. Come to think of it my blog was my morning page I would pour into diligently a while back and, then, I lost interest in speaking my mind out to the world and maybe to myself and neglected the site. The result was devastating. MY writer's muscle weakened and much like my removed appendix it no longer exists! How do I get it back? Do I write pages and pages of shit till it suddenly sounds decent enough to be aired? or do I do some voodoo, consult my natal charts or just sleep off the feeling that makes me feel useless? Half Brained was the last book I wrote and that was year ago. I fucked my brains or better still left them by the roadside somewhere in Gurgaon where I partied and shopped like there was no tomorrow. And, now, I am here in US, missing the old me who could stare into nothing and live new worlds in my head. Bloody hell.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 11:02 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments () | TrackBacks (0)

There is so much to be left on the door step of the past but we continue to hoard those packages in weary arms that demand respite. We stand at the threshold of memories twisted by our emotions and deeds that cannot be undone. We remember all the hurts carved in the stones of time and they gnaw at our bones as if the pain inflicted were fresh in the very moment we live.

Does time move forward or take us backward when the baby in us demands a past where only love was felt? Cascading memories burn the heart and brings darkness to the forefront. The Lord's prayer doesn't come easy to the lips. So many trespasses done by those who enact lives of saints.

The past overwhelms us and wrenches the soul. We forget the present and future to come. Clouds of darkness descend and years of pain felt feel so real. The demon of hurt dances joyfully and demands justice that only karma in its sublime objectivity plays out.

If only the past could be left behind to haunt a time that no longer exists. If only those packages of pain could be dropped on thresholds of those who broke our hearts. How does one go on when the past returns in full force and carves another hurt on the already bruised heart?

How does one let go?

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 10:11 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments () | TrackBacks (0)