If myth is infact a word, it is not the meaning it denotes or that one understands behind. if it is not a word but infact the meaning it indicates, what is myth anyways? a word or what you think what it denotes or what it actually denotes, that somebody defined in the websters dictionary or decided to use as a way to express what was intended to be expressed, and what makes you certain that there was no mistake committed in making it mean what it was originally meant to mean? seems like words are themselves a myth, which means there is nothing called myth, nothing called a word, nothing that you are seeing written here, nothing that is flowing from somewhere deep inside called me, through that called keyboard, inside a laptop, now appearing on this screen which was sometimes ago appearing exactly like this on another laptop screen, somewhere in space, time or beyond, and something called email, made it all appear in your mailbox that you accessed a while ago to read what was written s...
Opposites values are complimentary. Sounds familiar? Yes if there was no night, would one ever appreciate a day? If life went on a smooth track all the while, would it be fun at all? What would darkness mean without light? What would deep silence mean if there was no noise around sometimes? What would good mean without a bad? What would high be without a low? What would thin be without a fat to compare with? Isnt it funny that everything we perceive the way we do, is because there is an exact opposite way it can also be perceived? When life is going on a low ebb, does it not mean it will soon turn into a high one? Well whenever I expereinced a low rough patch in life, it always appeared as a passing phase, soon to be overcome by something nicer, being hatched up while the low ebb lasts. Sometimes it gets really difficult to continue on with this kind of a perspective, but keeping an unmoving faith always paid off in the end. The longer it lasts, the more time next higher one gets to ha...
It all started from me reading something I wrote the other day, which never got published in one of the places I had sent it for. It came out in others, but somehow I was not very comfortable it being missed out of this one place. Then today, it came out there as well. And it made me smile differently... well some sort of pleasure attached to the fact that something useful that was written, has been recognised. Not sure if the publisher thought it that way, but it definitely made me think that. Thinking about it triggered something deeper inside me. Is it the need for recognition, that drives me at some level, somewhere? For what gets written has a purpose and timing, then why should that be a reason for making me comfortable at some hidden level? It confused me, it made me think at a very oblique level. I think what happens inside our tiny little heads, is lot more than meets the eye. As we learn from our own little experiences and grow out of our own moulds, created out of limited ex...
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