I live in a cocoon. And whether you admit it or not, you all do. Our families, jobs, society with its institutions and conditioning, education, all of these form a big shell around us.
A shell, thick enough to block our senses from so many experiences and revelations, that we live in a half-realised world. And guess what, we never peek outside. Where there is so much beauty, bliss, knowledge and pleasure possible, that a single lifetime is just not enough to gather it all.
We construct routines for our daily lives that leave us no time for true reflection. Cramming more and more into our already brimming, creaking lives, pushing out the real meaningfill bits, we proudly proclaim that we are succeeding in life. Now that I have a bigger house, I must be happy. A bigger car, my kids go to posh schools, I must be happy. Oh yes, all that I have been told and taught through my life tells me that I must be real happy.
But here I am, jealous of that random courier boy's sudden, sparkling, unbridled laugh. What does he possess which I do not? Maybe it's something I have and not something that I lack. Have I gathered so much anguish, so many frowns and so many fat pay checks that I have forgotten to laugh like that? Maybe I lost my spontaneity doing that dull management course.
Maybe I lost my innocence in those nights I spent at the call-centre, swindling customers with sweet talk. And maybe I lost my childlike capacity for joy while I was investing in the stock market. Looking back over all those years, I think I have lost much, and earned little. Maybe I should look outside my cocoon.
Perhaps I should go and take a walk outside my shell. Maybe I should do something I love, for a change, outside protocols, alone, like a fluttering butterfly, alive for a while. Maybe I should volunteer shram daan. Give some, to get something real.
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