Modern Crowdedness

View Master 3-D viewer (stimulation toy/machine)

Falling into the spiraling loop of nostalgia is like getting no where in actual reality. I realized the burden of the modern world when I saw photos and heard songs of people along the timeline of the past 30 years or so. These were school-year photos; old schools with children dressed in memorable school uniforms—which I had to wear too. And many other emotionally impacted objects such as toys, phones, drinks, places, candies, cartoons, TV shows and humble restaurants.

Life looked great back then. Although I was born in the very early 90s, I still consider myself very fortunate to have witnessed, and especially for having felt the atmosphere of the real life, what we now refer to the Golden past.

Old is not just gold, but one that we must keep in safe storage. Which in many cases, people are doing, and I am grateful for their fondness of preserving the beauty of the past and popularizing its dominant existence that once used to be.That is, everything we enjoyed before the year 2000.

In my own experience of going over documented memories, I had a feel for the past.With an instant rush of belonging traveling through my being, as I wished the 80’s were only a button away. Click, and I’m there. But, certainly this, time does not allow. For time is in a constant race with itself, while we are also racing with it. Yet most of us are running towards the future while also peeking at the past, throughout the whole process of running.

There is something truly endearing about the way people dressed, the quality of the photos taken at the time, the simplicity of the roads and places, and the spontaneity of life of the 70s until the 90s. life felt much more meaningful and exciting. Enthusiasm felt more natural among the people, and the contentment of the present moment had a more natural flow to it.

While modernity is very crowded; as it seems as though everything and everyone is lost somewhere in a crowd, for depth is the key word here. The modern life has exhausted our simplistic needs from nature, and in the process, humans exhausted nature. And although the modern day slogan calls us to delve deep into the inner world—the self, it seems that this must mean to return to our human nature, or to get out of it and be prepared for a celestial mission or such.

In both ways, diving deep is a valuable quality to have, but are we only going further from the simplicity of nature, while having to understand our human nature? And, instead of being able to travel to the past, are we aiming to leave the Earth and explore life in the outer space?

I think this is an inevitable mental and emotional process to go through—-in which for every generation of 30 years and above, will notice how fast life is moving. And how there is always more pleasure in the way life used to be. For although the past can be quite painful to remember, it can also represent aspects of gratefulness that our hearts will forever cherish, as we actually do for our present moment over the many things to be grateful for, well, until this becomes a past too.

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The Mindspin

I thought I was still good at stretching down my legs, to their maximum capacity. I know I could when I was around the age of eight. But, not any more. It has certainly advanced, well, into a mental stretch that takes in the form of a spin. It no longer involves my body, only my mind. And, I kept feeding into this quality, many different things. I say things; because they are indeed, only just things.

This baseline of my experience is the pole that sets the stage for my mental dance. Like a Ballerina who is anxiously happy during the continuous clapping of an audience over her victory. Or, in the way a piece of chocolate dissolves so sweetly in my mouth, while my tongue cradles this sweet taste. For when the piece is there, it only requires me to situate it correctly.

And in between every other hour, life destroys that flavor. It isn’t really life, but it’s what makes life, life. Which diminishes the sweetness eventually. That is, mostly to do with, other worldly rotations taking place in the form of becoming, or in the process of walking down the path of familiarity; a road often taken, but very little understood.

In some mornings, reality is as atrocious as feeling suspended from the motion of life, of existence, and of the circulation of the biological forces within the body. Leaving it to reality to make it up for the mind; for why should we spin along the rotation of our earth (unconsciously) while mentally spinning in our heads (consciously and unconsciously), is not always a helpful thing?’

Aren’t we but thoughts roaming around on this earth? Aren’t we made of lessons, experiences, and especially of feelings—to formalize and color such findings?

In other mornings, the mental spins of others are louder than the sound of one’s own breath. So much so that it infests like a spider’s web—that builds up slowly, yet orderly and tightly into each of our tranquil streams. As for me, when my siege gets broken, its scattered pieces become painful pins thrown at me and against my own will.

The only consistent aspect of it all is that we are but a bundle of a spinning life, a rotation within another rotation. In an endless loop of spinning thoughts. This mixture is vital for generating us with potentials that result from chaos and order. It is a never-ending process of rediscovering the question of ‘what could happen next?’

Throughout the nights, the mind is at refuge—peaceful but unpromising. hopeful, but undeniable of its long day of loss, joy, or trouble. But, what difference does it make when the night approaches? As the earth will still spin, and the dynamic of life will continue on. We must permit ourselves to blend in with ourselves first, colorfully, then apply that to our understandings of the complexity in both chaos and order. Also, by letting the infusion of these colliding forces set in, so that we could beget the brushes needed for our painted spins, and to submit to our inner life which is obeyed by the outer forces of life.

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