I fly!

Imagine a cool january morning in the usually balmy city where I live. Am soaring against the wind, my wings flapping only when I just begin to lose lift. Gliding , soaring , diving all in a quick succession of ethereal & deft movements. So eloquent , so beautiful that it hurts when I think it may come to an end.

It was something that I had dreamt of, from the very first memory I have of when I thought about what I would love to do. Whatever the rapid and fleeting new attractions that a small boys mind can register, it all comes back to the one and only love that has possessed his heart. It is an altogether different story that often little boys tend to forget the very thing that they love and are sidetracked in to the cesspool that is the black hole called convention. By the time the little boy realises what he really loves and what his heart desires he is no longer a little boy. He has earned a lot of wealth and goodwill but in return has squandered his childhood , his youth. The question that now comes to the mind is , whether the exchange was worth it? Will any man who was once a little boy with dreams in his mind and laughter in his eyes, dare to answer this question? Will the question reassure him as to the wisdom of his choice or will it mock his inanity? The question and the answer have to come from the same entity , then why the fear of the question or the answer?

The problem begins when we in our sub-conscious mind split ourselves into two distinct personalities. The half that is true to the real us lives for us and our beliefs and our passions. Sadly this half is the submissive half in most of us. This is the half that revels in the pleasure it derives in the simple things of life. The twinkle of sunlight on a drop of dew, the smooth flowing sweet lines of a teasdale poem, the smell of a freshly brewed cup of filter coffee and the comfort of an old shirt and a torn jeans. This is the very essence of life for this submissive part.
The dominant part within us is ironically the part which gets dictated to, by most external agencies. It embraces convention and herd mentality as if it were the very purpose and meaning of its entire life. What a waste one could say but one does conform though one professes a very strident opposition to this concept of blind faith or fear of the road less travelled.

The tranquil hedonism professed by me in following my heart is a matter of deep concern for some and a manifestation of depraved brain capability for others.

I still fly, I still love the caress of the wind in my hair, the kiss of the morning sun on my cheeks, the whisper of companionship that touches my heart. If to fly is to follow the dictates of my heart then I still fly. If to fly is to let my inhibitions drop away because they cant keep pace with my progress then I still fly. If to fly is to slap the doubters, the smirkers and the abrasive gossipers then I still fly. Most of all I still fly because that is the very essence of my existence , the very purpose of what I was born to achieve and the very meaning for my chapter in this world , my life , for this, I shall always fly.