Of FREEDOM
...and she opened the door and ran into the street. She? Yes, she.
I had often seen her fight. She always fought. She always screamed a pitch one or two above others. She always gave back, on the minimum, twice the crap presented to her. In all, she was 'The Fighter'. She had the guns and I admired that. I wanted to be that...
...but she opened the door and ran into the street. She. Did.
That day wasn't normal. She wasn't my Fighter. She ran away. Nothing in the world ever made her run away. Nothing ever bulleted her shield of conviction and revenge. Of doing as she was done by.
Why?
It got to her. That feeling so abundant in non-fighters. That feeling of guilt. Of wanting to keep calm. Of wanting to avoid conflict hoping to restore peace. Of fearing the worst of a fight. Of fearing they might do something wrong they would regret forever. Of not wanting to be a party to non-calm. Of thinking that a fight is always avoidable!
Ha! And the fighters take on conflict barechested confident to swim to some bank right or left, victorious or unproductive rather than flowing with the current which only keeps getting stronger, then the first rocks appear, then the waterfall...
...this unplanned waterfall; in the want to avoid the current, a non-fighter closing his eyes to a storm so that it may pass without conflict not only takes away what little chance he has but he is also unplanned when the waterfall comes despite his trying to avoid the non-calm and moreover as he breaks his bones in the fall, the current makes his disabled body subservient forever. For. Ever. After.
I always wanted her to stop when she screamed. It made me crazy when I heard her scream. But now and forevermore I would rather have her scream than run like that day...I had almost lost her that night if she had gone further alone in the dark at such an hour.
For she is the paramount sign of, 'Settle now or forever be wiped. Settle everything now. Now. Now. Not later.'
A conflict must always wield a victory for a party.
Just as an equal defeat awaits the other. But this defeat is better than dying everyday hoping everything is going to be alright tomorrow by one's constant blindness; this fight, like some full scale weapon war leaves dead bodies but once started must be settled, whatever is left at the end must be used as experience and foresight that one must depend on self more than ever now.
It is a chance of becoming a man. Of knowing one's rights and getting them. Of being burdened with responsibility of self dependence. Of constant, hard, labour. But if anything. Of FREEDOM. For. Ever. After.
True: It is easier to be shackled in chains than handling freedom.
Does HE express HIS beauty of thoughts through a medium of me when we say, 'amad ho rahi he'? I know I hadn't thought this way. I know that I got so high, so bursting with feelings that it just rushed out and arranged this way. What dimension did it all come from... Magic is the world of intangibles!
i am a free person yet at this moment in time like infinitely many others i cannot just leave my house, school, college, office, any place for that matter, without telling someone first; alone on my own, going to some place where i can sit, hang my head, and be quiet and on my own for as long as i want; without interruption, without pretending i am alright, without any thoughts. how ironic, that i am a free person.
How do you define freedom then? how does anyone define freedom then? has anyone ever had absolute freedom then? has anyone even had any, then...
Freedom - is the little 2yr old girl in the UET chemical deptt seminar hall who keeps stepping around in rows of seats, catching everyone's eyes unaware, unbothered, free... not caring the least because not knowing how to care about what she does..
To be continued: have to still type the originale
He injected the drug into his veins. There was no pleasure now. Just short-lived satisfaction. Real short-lived.
He plunged headlong. He jumped. Into memories.
The air blew across his frame as he stuck his face out of the driving window. Ah yes, memories.
When he had had power over the drug. Whenever he wanted, how ever he wanted, it pleasured him. It had to pleasure him.
Not now no more. It had become a need. His absolute dependence had killed lady pleasure. He could not live without it. It held power over him. He had no power to choose. He was a slave to his need.
It never waited on him anymore. It never allured him. The drug was a medicine to keep him alive. Not a nymph to entertain him.
Not make him dream.
Not make him dream.
It was an escape from things that left scars.
Not a journey into a land of adventure.
It was to erase blotches.
Not delve into colours that had no boundaries.
It was his master not his slave.
It stole his ingenuity, his wit, him.
He was a miserable wretch.
My addict.
Humanity is asleep, concerned only with what is useless, living in a wrong world. Believing that one can excel this is only habit and usage, not religion. this 'religion' is inept..do not prattle before the People of the Path, rather consume yourself. You have an inverted knowledge and religion if you are upside down in relation to Reality. Man is wrapping his net around himself. A lion (a man of Way) bursts his cage asunder.
Excerpt from The Sufis
