Unsure certainty. An exaggerated oxymoron, yes, definitely.
There is something about the uncertainties that forges ahead an unexplained happiness into your soul. A happiness that is your own, beautiful and yet annihilating. A happiness that can never be snatched and yet vulnerable to be lost any moment.
Those kind of days when you just sit, listen, observe and introspect leaving behind the mountain of 'things' you're supposed to do. When just standing in your veranda or boarding a long train and watching trees, poles, people, roads and bridges pass by, seems a lot more relaxing. Unsure about your next move, and yet allowing the moment to pass. That is what happiness is, at times.
To be at a point in time when you are presented with a zillion roads to take, a million chores to complete and also, a thousand hindrances that could possibly sprang up, and yet have the zest to go for it. Only because all of them are unsure certainties. You know you have to get there, but not a defined path, a path of your own, that needs no quick action, just your heart and soul and you know you'll be there. Again, uncertainly. Nothing pre-planned.
Like a sad birthday that is evaporating with every passing hour of the day. But at the end of the day, you hear a hush. And viola! There is a huge surprise for you, something you never expected, something you were uncertain about. Isn't that a happiness much larger in magnitude than to receive an age-old-routine-sort-of days? Won't you remember this day a lot better than any of your X-Y-Z birthdays that were 'good' from the moment you dawned into the day? The former will always have an upper hand, don't you think?
And maybe, that is how life is. Pre-planned by fate, but unknown to you. Unsure certainty. Happiness. So on and so forth. A rike letter to a young poet when one least expects it, a visit to a place you had long forgot, a phone call to an old friend who would have assumed to be forgotten, a smile to a stranger who is deep in thoughts with his eyebrows strained, these are certainties for you because you know you will be doing the same and unsure certainties for those people, an act of kindness, maybe.
Who knew a plant studded with thorns could produce something as beautiful as a rose? But that is what sets it apart, right? I say, Unsure certainty it is.
Happy weekend. :)
There is something about the uncertainties that forges ahead an unexplained happiness into your soul. A happiness that is your own, beautiful and yet annihilating. A happiness that can never be snatched and yet vulnerable to be lost any moment.
Those kind of days when you just sit, listen, observe and introspect leaving behind the mountain of 'things' you're supposed to do. When just standing in your veranda or boarding a long train and watching trees, poles, people, roads and bridges pass by, seems a lot more relaxing. Unsure about your next move, and yet allowing the moment to pass. That is what happiness is, at times.
To be at a point in time when you are presented with a zillion roads to take, a million chores to complete and also, a thousand hindrances that could possibly sprang up, and yet have the zest to go for it. Only because all of them are unsure certainties. You know you have to get there, but not a defined path, a path of your own, that needs no quick action, just your heart and soul and you know you'll be there. Again, uncertainly. Nothing pre-planned.
Like a sad birthday that is evaporating with every passing hour of the day. But at the end of the day, you hear a hush. And viola! There is a huge surprise for you, something you never expected, something you were uncertain about. Isn't that a happiness much larger in magnitude than to receive an age-old-routine-sort-of days? Won't you remember this day a lot better than any of your X-Y-Z birthdays that were 'good' from the moment you dawned into the day? The former will always have an upper hand, don't you think?
And maybe, that is how life is. Pre-planned by fate, but unknown to you. Unsure certainty. Happiness. So on and so forth. A rike letter to a young poet when one least expects it, a visit to a place you had long forgot, a phone call to an old friend who would have assumed to be forgotten, a smile to a stranger who is deep in thoughts with his eyebrows strained, these are certainties for you because you know you will be doing the same and unsure certainties for those people, an act of kindness, maybe.
Who knew a plant studded with thorns could produce something as beautiful as a rose? But that is what sets it apart, right? I say, Unsure certainty it is.
Happy weekend. :)