Thinking on the move - the knot speaks

The world is big, far too big for my liking. There are too many people around. Like ants they walk, like dogs they bark and snatch from each other and from the world like monkeys. The norm has been written and rewritten, trodden upon and generations have watched unknowingly, the pervasive pointlessness of this temporal sustenance. Dazed by the sheer speed of competition, we follow in the wake of a ship that has borne millions of our species before our time. A select few stand on lonely shores and watch the sails slip into the horizon. While the normal man tch-tches in pity and drinks his soup out of cheap china on the deck of the vessel, the thinkers silently smile and light their pipes. Sitting on warm sand, they welcome the solitude of intellect and the saline freshness of the sea breeze.

Affluence brings with it either a desire to grow trees of gold or a detachment well afforded. The unfortunate ones spend a lifetime trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive shimmer of lifeless diamonds. Like many others, I belong to neither of these factions. Serenaded by the uncertainties and wonders of this limbo, I trudge along willingly - a little lost, and acceptably happy. Amidst all this talk of echelons and thoughts is the knot.

The knot is ever-present, and I've felt it more than ever in the past few days. Its a heavy cube of dark smooth iron with rounded edges and corners - well, not literally, but my imagination has it defined that way. Its a weird state of mind to be in - jerkily pulled away from reality but at the same time being closer to it than I normally am; questions stream in and out of the head without getting answered, followed by the the compelling need to do something different, to be free from the rigour and monotony this life has to offer. All said, I would indeed be fooling myself if I were to truly believe all of my own words. I realize I'm merely ranting, without start or end. But the knot is real, as real as the stark pointlessness of it all and the undying spirit of human fantasies.

Thinking on the move - throb

Grim frustration grips your being. Aimlessness, your temporal aide. You feel something caged within the confines of your skin. The most dearest of feelings is at the least detestable in this state of suspended commotion. Nothing enthralls, no one matters, music your only resort. Deep breaths to pour out the knot, strand by strand. Coursing through a chaotic passage of faces and familiar surroundings, you zombie your way through those couple of hours. You seek a creative outlet and find yourself lacking in all aspects - a unanimous deficit of motivation and talent ruling your senses. Stark reality stares you in the face leaving behind a fertile silt to sustain an unchecked growth of a deep rooted feeling of insignificance. Point blank frustration. Remedies are few and you choose the best one around. Clinking, clean melody floats in as Opeth takes over. Sad tunes and melancholic words elevate you, beyond the reach of the agents of materialism prowling the lower strata of thought.

Music in all its diversity, never disappoints. No matter what parameters define your current setup, there's always a song you can lean on. There is always a tune to drown in, and forever words to wrap your brain in. If nothing works, there is always the music of nature - Silence; priceless and crystalline in all its pristine delicacy - the sound of silence.