Shylock’s ruminations

I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands,
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same
food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases,
heal’d by the same means, warm’d and cool’d by the same winter
and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If
you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?
And if you wrong us, do we not revenge? If we are like you in the
rest, we will resemble you in that.

—The Merchant of Venice Act 3, Scene 1, 58-68

Declaration of non-interest

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday, and if you can source your life on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “YES!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

- Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder

What is love?

If what one finds is made of pure matter, it will never spoil. One can always come back.

If what you had found was only a moment of light, like the explosion of a star, you would find nothing on your return.

Nothing.

And everyone must breathe, until their dying breaths

The unidentifiable yet formidable force pressed mercilessly on my chest, getting increasingly stronger and stronger, till I felt myself take painfully short but deep breaths in an attempt to dispose of the abysmal emotions that were messing with my brain.

I started to taste the all too familiar salty tears in my mouth.

Times like these, I feel so blessed. Blessed that my family is so goddamn wonderful. When other’s are just goddamn not.

Times like these, I think, “No one should ever feel like that.”

No one.

Word.

Party People

Dazzling disappointments

The lump in your throat grows morbidly bigger and bigger until, finally, you feel almost asphyxiated.

Once bitten, twice shy? Sure.

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I live for the nights I can’t remember

With the people I’ll never forget.

Love

It’s strange how you could go on living your life before, perfectly contented to go through the most mundane activities without even thinking that you lacked anything.

Then God decides to personally introduce you to someone. Someone so different that his take on life inspires such wanderlust in your blood that you feel your head spinning at the infinite possibilities. A true sui generis. You throw your head back to laugh in his presence. Every meeting spurs a kind of euphoria in your mind, soul and body – so exhilarative and intoxicating, you feel light and tipsy. No longer do you look at life through rose-tinted glasses. But it doesn’t matter. Because you have unfailing faith in him to pick you up and straighten out the disarray when no one cares enough to give you clear eludication.

One day, he is taken away from you.

Suddenly, there is a gaping hole in your being.

It is exquisitely painful, and yet you cannot find a single injury on your body. One emotional pain seems to spark off hundreds of other extreme emotions. Your heart compels you to go over the memories, the ideas, the fantasies. You wonder how you could conceivably have lived your life before his existence because now, you cannot imagine living without him by your side.