I call it as “An Effort” because everything nowadays is an effort. Working is an effort, sleeping peacefully is an effort, writing is an effort, smiling is an effort in fact breathing is an effort and living is an effort too.
There was a time when I used to be scared of being alone, being in dark night, being dead, not waking up next morning! Now when I lay alone on an empty bed every night, all I am afraid is of living another day, waking up next day alive, facing another hour in life, striving to find some life inside my soul everyday and struggling to find an ounce of joy in world around me. So calling it “An Effort” is an understatement of the century!
I would be wrong if I call it a “Writer’s block” for, I am no writer and this is definitely not a block. A block can be overcome, it can be crossed over or you can move around it. But I am facing today is unfathomable, unexplainable, immovable and impenetrable. Its like I am born again but of course with lot of baggage! When we are born, we have no clues about life, days ahead, world around, dreams, plans and hopes. We learn to take baby steps and create a life in our life, we create a bubble around us of a comfort zone, hopes and aspirations. But when we are born, we have no baggage of remorse, repentance, pain, sheer sadness and over powering hopelessness. So I say, I am born again with a baggage which seems heavier than my heart and soul can bear.
Now I am surrounded by a bubble of rage, hurt, abandonment and numbness. There is no fear of unknown now, there is no anticipation of losing anything, there is no anxiety of future. The castle of life is already powdered to dust, which now can never be renovated, restored or rebuilt. What remains is, sand dunes of lost life, crushed dreams and broken hearts. I am surrounded by Amy clean silence of loneliness and defeat.
Life is a long journey now which I, now know for sure, do not drive. The path holds no charm, the diversions are time waste, the world around is unappealing. The journey needs to be completed irrespective of my willingness, interests or desires. The distance needs to be covered, the goal or destination must be reached; so be it. Whatever happens on the way holds minuscule meaning to me. The only duty is to breathe till someone, some power wants it otherwise. The lesson of “Giving up” came clearly across. You give up in spite of every atom in you wants to fight it; you let lose in spite of every ounce of your being wants to fist it tight; you surrender and succumb to whatever is happening around you because that is the only way which will lessen your pain, help you face the sheer powerlessness, unburden you of the guilt on your soul. There is no such thing as healing; it is learning to live or rather exist with the wounds.
This is a small representation of the high-quality writings you’ll find in every issue of TIFERET.
We receive no outside funding and rely on subscription sales, workshop fees, and donations to publish. If you enjoy our journal’s verbal and visual offerings, we hope you’ll consider supporting us in one of these ways.Subscribe Today to Read More!