I see the ocean by Aditi Dhyani
I see the ocean
Its waves rising high
Almost as if they will ascend and meet sky
I see the ocean
It glares back at me
This time with a glimmering reflection of its beloved- sun
I see the ocean
And I see its might
It’s potent to submerge and embrace
I see the ocean
Almost as perverse as me
But with a distinct analogy.
It speaks for itself
It shows its outrage, its jest, its joy – it tells tales of its own
I have no stories, no disposition, no identity.
I see the ocean and I call out its name
Louder and louder and louder
I paddle along its shore
I wish to plunge in it
Dive in its depth to find my name, to search myself
Perhaps in those depth
Somewhere I may reborn
What is self and how to search for it. Does it exist inward or outward? Is it essential to be named? And if it can be named or called, will it belong to me? In a global world, where we befriend chaos and coax ourselves with a lie – “our life is great”, exists a truth, apparent to everyone, although rejected relentlessly. We claim we know ourselves.; the real spirit, living inside our flesh we know it well.
We fail to recognize as complex beings the extent of convolutions toughens the task of accustoming ourselves with deep hidden truths inside us. We live our lives in pretense; all truths are known.
Albeit we may know some, lots remain deeper, concealed inside a palpitating heart; to find you have to seek.
The quest for self and desire of its perfection has been a continual exploration. John Keats, a seventeenth century Romantic emphasized extensively on the quest for self. Keats solicited a transcending oneself in nature’s beauty. To him ‘Autumn’ is not a season but an event of jest.
I personally admire Keats’ vision to learn from nature about our real identities. To him autumn is a harbinger of mists and mellow fruitfulness; it’s a close kin of sun. Keats envision autumn as an entity, advancing to incept the gradual process of ripening fruits and blooming flowers for bees.
Life of an individual is quite comparable to Keats’ autumn. It’s a journey that introduces joy and sorrow, gaiety and despondence, successes and failures. When life transpires itself, an individual ripens, becomes mature and moves towards its own existence.
Hence a meaning gets added; a specific persona is rendered to you. In the beginning I stated – we all succumb to worldly chaos often. We lose the identity, we exhibit and gain in all those years of growth.
Though we all have a name but it becomes merely a label. A label to engage us in society. The goal is to inherit an identity that is earned by ourselves; to restore peace and faith within. Though one may turn to legion alternatives to enhance their understanding and perceptions towards “self”; I personally advocate reading poetry. Poetry is not just words. It’s an emotion and the desire to keep living it.
When we fail to express meaning through speech, we write or read poetry. Under the anatomy of humans’ fondness towards things, poetry finds a place much closer than any other means. The cadence and phraseology, since ancient times till now, with meanings embedded deeper, influences and relieves human minds. Moreover, it stimulates the consciousness to expand itself with questions, beholding profound and relatively intrinsic wisdom.
Imagine living in a world where you see the sun rising and feel the rays from heaven blessing your soul. On your way to work you see a bunch of flowers lying in your way, you smile and consider it a boon showering from the brink of the sky. It is incredible when we not merely speak words but live their essence; hear the message that they hold. It is overwhelming when we weave poetry around ourselves.
The message of life and rejuvenating lies in every matter or being that is present on earth; each of us is a poet and our vision is a poetry. There are times when we discern a part of us is dying but we must remember – in order to rise you must turn into ashes. You will be alive more than before.
Days are passing with the pace of a locomotive. You have to focus the attention on tasks, often carried out perfunctorily. Amidst this marathon where we keep finding our destinies, let’s just sit down for a minute, hold a cup of warm coffee while bringing it closer to have the first sip enjoy its relish. Read some lines from Byron or some excerpts of Tagore’s. Live life as it’s your self written poetry.
Read, think and peruse what value it holds; what does it mean to become lost in those words and live a story so distinct from what we live every day. Lose yourself a minute in there to find a newer self.
Written By : Aditi Dhyani
Hey everyone, this is Aditi Dhyani. I hope you like it. I thank That Amusing Girl for giving me this opportunity. Do leave comments if you like it and I will reply soon.
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