Heart holds a mysterious dominance in our existence. Life, as it is in truth is an act by choice. If not for all the movies we were shown from our childhood, we would never feel that glitch of our heart skipping a beat whenever we get emotional. It’s our brain that plays hide and seek with the emotions. Psychological enough, scientific enough, but where did this entire concept of “Heart feels” took birth? It again came from the same creator, brain. Strange but true, had the movies showed that we feel an extra ordinary relishing or painful reflex in our knee when something emotional happens rather than heart, here we would be rubbing our knees rather than our heart. Embracing a proud chest would have been a metaphor, probably gestating in the womb of the creator again. Whatever it maybe there are two kinds of people, those who can actually understand the language of their heart and able to speak it and those who surf along their neural tides.
There actually are sages among us who prides the world as their family while living alone. They own everything, they own nothing. They become their own poems, they are poets. They themselves are their own spouses to live about themselves. They are the serene travelers of the insane sands, ice deserts. They greet the pink blossom of ripe cherry trees. They mingle with the air stream lining through their visionary faces, they feel the earth. They walk imaging in themselves, dating themselves, trying to find the essence of their existence, alone, dreaming endless about stories of the past, present and future. They greet pain; they embrace happiness. They understand the rays of sunlight, greenery of mother earth, phase of life as the time travels magically, unseen, untold and unheard to the end of their sojourn. Their heart responds like a flute when she feels the emotions. They revolve around themselves. They believe, they talk about a creator whom we seldom believe. They talk about a robust way of representation that one cannot simply run away from what they are bound to be. They succeed. The morality that we define now is the indifference we share with them. The values we value are our wars we wage to better our existence, find a way to happiness. Madam Ayn Rand said that Pain is an agent to death and those who tend to travel that path are self-destructive.
It takes one to be immensely brave to extend ones hand, to invite something to take them over. Those who can do it recreate this song being one with the creator and sing it to those who cannot recreate taking the form of a bird, chirping down on this world alongside the merry morning sun. Their inhalation is existence. Their exhalation is wisdom. They mend their creator, the brain to do what their heart says. They plot their path, they walk in it. That morality one form is the morality one needs. Everyone is different. Everyone defines their own morality. Everyone is alone. Alone is everyone. The life song one sings is the basic hymn of the fundamental world. Life shall always be a dream dreamt by an anonymous artist, composed by a poet unknown. Thus morality is dynamic. Those who are equipped enough to change with it are respectable. Ashutosh bhai, Satya Bhai, Arvind Bhai, Rohini di, Ashish Bhai and Dushyant bhai, to change with time is human; to change with morality is beyond human. Thanks.