All-organic weirdness

Category: Weekly state (Page 1 of 23)

Weekly state: covered.

Take cover!!

There’s a lot of things happening, too much some might say. And you know what, I tend to agree. The struggles of modern day life are manifold and even open up new avenues, offering to help with these struggles.

There is guides on meditation, on nutrition, new ways to improve every aspect of life. Books, based on ancient philosophy, making it digestible for the modern human. Because who has the time to interpret M. Aurelius and apply it to the 21st century?

Okay, maybe there’s some.

Like a bird feeding, these contents are pre-chewed and spit into the mouth. It’s just more convenient that way.

I am offering a different alternative. Why not just disassociate in peace for a while and take cover? You can of course cover yourself with cloth, but how about covering with imagination?

How does a slice of cheese feel, covered in two pieces of bread? How does the raisin feel, baked into deliciousness? How does the sky feel in winter, not being naked but finally decently dressed with clouds?

Dissipate, disassociate and be covered. Just for a moment.

Weekly state: unknowing.

There is no word for “wok” in Chinese.

As I prepare dish after dish on this lonely place I realise that with every crevice I seek to shine light into, I see how vast my lack of knowledge and wisdom truly is. It is the yoke of those who seek.

Now the moment comes in everyone’s life to ask, will I remain in the dusk, the fog of numbness, the blissful existence of the ignorant. Or will I venture into the rocky, volitionally painful and sometimes scary journey of finding out?

This will not even answer the bigger question of the “what” that is to be found.

And so I keep using words that seem to be clear in my unknowing, in relation to gainable knowledge infantile mind, only to find out that it is just me these ideas make sense to.

So this is my wok for the week. Perfectly precise to me, non-existential word to you.

Weekly state: sensitive.

Icy rain hits my skin, mocking its sensitive nature.

The seasons are here, to divide us by who is most adaptable. I for one have not yet mastered the coldest and darkest of times. So I try to flee, with an emphasis on the try.

Fire and warmth may have given our ancestors comfort but to the spoiled nature of current Homo sapiens requires to be coddled. Physically and emotionally, harsh conditions seem to increase with shorter hours of light in the day.

Relating to content online, one finds themselves connected through shared burdens of others. In the end, the skin remains sensitive.

I am in the process of adapting, in the clouds and against the constantly blowing winds. Physical resilience is built over time but dammit, why does it need to rain so much?

I mistake the numb skin, frozen and lifeless, for increased strength. I think I have conquered this season. But as warmth touches the skin, I become aware that frozen skin still remains sensitive when heated up.

Weekly state: dropped.

Like a buttered toast, I fell down with my head first in this newfound land.

Urgent air cargo so to speak, I was only passing by, as intensely as I could. New doors were opened, my horizon broadened with every step.

Now, I can add a true feeling to the spices that I used for a long time in this takeout stall called Papa Shanghai. All the fermented foods, the new letters, things that seemed exotic have been given a home. This is where I went. So in a sense, I was visiting a place that I had little pieces of, already before.

Time is running when you’re trying to meander.

So keeping on dropping me,

in places, dreams, life and ultimately, I’ll drop

by myself.

Weekly state: swathed.

The pressurised doors open and I am back in my terrarium.

Bodily autonomy is just a farce when the elements really want you out of somewhere. Therefore, I am adapting, embracing the moist state that I will be in.

I am wrapped in warm air, a feeling that I have been longing for ever since I last felt it. Even when it is not there, I create it artificially. The blowdryer of the subcontinent is coddling me into thinking of more innocent days.

It is easy to complain, mostly because some are not used to it. They tend to run, away into conditioned rooms, conditioned trains, conditioned cars and ultimately, conditioned state of mind. Artificial in nature, but nature knows better. It will strike you as long as you don’t pay respects.

So I here I sit again, swathed by humidity and hot air, in the stream of my very own gigantic blowdryer, watching the denialists produce sweat on their bodies working overtime.

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