There are times when you want to be left alone. When, although everything around you is motion, at lightening speed, but you feel like your mind is in a trance of its own. Caught in a time warp. The state of numbness to every perceivable sense is so overwhelming, that you can feel the clock ticking slowly. It is as if you are on an Einstein rocket moving at the speed of light, and it seems that it is not actually you, but the entire world that is moving at insane speeds.
You feel that you have gone mad and all you see is insanity in every bit of action that you do, or not do. The brain is working at overload, about to crash, but it exudes perfect Buddha calm and a relaxed meditative state. It feels like being at a high without drugs. A perpetual matrix of anesthetic numbness shrouds your every effort to break free from it. And you feel that this will go on till times unknown. But here begins and ends the irony of it all. The state of being that puts you into it, wakes you itself. And then you feel like Rip Van Winkle, not knowing what it was, what now is, what things will be. You simply look around. Think what all is happening is how it is supposed to happen. And you do what others do. You think it is correct. Because it makes sense. Because everyone else says that it makes sense. So, being sensible, you suspend your senses, and do the sensible thing to do. You do what others are doing, being sensible and smart. And you keep on doing it until you can suspend your true sense. Until the trance takes over again. Until you cease to sense, what is sensible and what is not. Until you forget that sense is a word. Welcome back. This is what being sensible is all about. But the world is different. It doesn’t make sense. More you try to sense it, more your perception towards it gets blurred. And that, as the people say, living like that is practicality. So, adapting, compromising, is practicality. Being in trance, and in your own sense isn’t.
Live with it. You have to. No other choice, ever enterprising – sensible man.
You feel that you have gone mad and all you see is insanity in every bit of action that you do, or not do. The brain is working at overload, about to crash, but it exudes perfect Buddha calm and a relaxed meditative state. It feels like being at a high without drugs. A perpetual matrix of anesthetic numbness shrouds your every effort to break free from it. And you feel that this will go on till times unknown. But here begins and ends the irony of it all. The state of being that puts you into it, wakes you itself. And then you feel like Rip Van Winkle, not knowing what it was, what now is, what things will be. You simply look around. Think what all is happening is how it is supposed to happen. And you do what others do. You think it is correct. Because it makes sense. Because everyone else says that it makes sense. So, being sensible, you suspend your senses, and do the sensible thing to do. You do what others are doing, being sensible and smart. And you keep on doing it until you can suspend your true sense. Until the trance takes over again. Until you cease to sense, what is sensible and what is not. Until you forget that sense is a word. Welcome back. This is what being sensible is all about. But the world is different. It doesn’t make sense. More you try to sense it, more your perception towards it gets blurred. And that, as the people say, living like that is practicality. So, adapting, compromising, is practicality. Being in trance, and in your own sense isn’t.
Live with it. You have to. No other choice, ever enterprising – sensible man.
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