Girl, Interrupted

Was thinking about that movie today, which got me to write a poem of sorts...It turned out being sort of dreary, but I'll blame it on the movie :)

Random Thoughts:
Mental health is stigmatized, and that bothers me... A Beautiful Mind is one of my fave movies for the fact that it shows that schizophrenia can be dealt with...yay for neurochem and psychology! Yay also for people at The Banyan, a home in Madras, India, that work hard to rehabilitate mentally ill destitute women ostracized by their families; all the women there are ABSOLUTELY amazing!!...Mental health issues being important to me, it hurts and frustrates when the stigmas come through...More on that later...

Outside-Inside

I am drunk on
the spring wine
Colors everywhere—
greens, oranges, violets, pinks
But I am drunk and everything
appears hazy.

Only the red stands out
Clearly—the blood red
Red blood on the wrist
Dried blood on the wrist
Dryness sloughing off the blade…
All that I see clearly
Too clearly.

I am drunk on
the spring wine
Sounds everywhere—
chirping, flapping, swooshing, laughing
But I am drunk and everything
sounds cacophonic.

Only the scream stands out
Distinctly—the piercing scream
One follows another
And another leads to softer moans
Moans bouncing off the bathroom walls…
All that I hear distinctly
Too distinctly.

Movement...

Taking a breather from academic type writing...what better a break than one doing non-academic type writing...So, gonna let my fingers travel on...

I wonder, if say whoosh--will the flowers bloom, the lights glow and everything turn bright? Just a breath, would it work?

I walk, among the green stalks of wheat rising upto my waist. I sway my arms to and fro and feel the swoosh of air against me. The flying insects give my face a peck and wander off. As far as I can see, the green grows. Interspersed between are little mounds of brown. Mud platforms for humans--like me--to sit and ponder on the mysteries of the rain, and the soil, and so forth.

I wander over toward one of those platforms and believe that at this moment, I can be anything. So, I pick to be movement itself.

I am the walking...or wait, how else can I be motion. Well for one, I am motion that does not cease--no law of nature can stop me. Why do I move constantly, irrespective of everything else. More importantly, how do I move constantly? Am I circling, or am I random patterns? I choose to be held up in a spot, but changing. Not changing with respect to other frames of reference--but changing and moving within my own frame.

So this much is established--I am still, and have internal motion. No...I am moving, I just don't have any displacement, nor do I cover any distance. Because I am all the distance there ever was, or is, or ever will be.

Now, I guess the next conclusion will be that everything exists inside of me. But no, I dont wish for that--it becomes patronizing and God-like. I have no volume, so nothing can exist inside of me.

I am, and that is all there is to it. I am everything. Whatever I think happens. Right now I am thinking of my world and therefore it exists.

Okay, pause. Walking over to another mud platform for a different view of the green expanse.....

Now I am feeling too much again, back to work...

Time for thought

Its been a long time since I've been in touch with myself. Life is just kind of rushing by. Down times peppered between neutral ones, and then the joyous ones...everything is just happening, and keeps happening. I'm going to somehow pass my defense, and move on from here, from here to somewhere else, and from somewhere else to yet another time and place, and so on and so forth.

'This too shall pass'--Robert Browning's famed line is a great one when you're trying to pull yourself out of a low time. It's also a wonderful constant reminder of the transitory nature of life in general.

But at the same time, its always tells me that if I don't spend time today, now knowing myself better, I won't get the moment back. Its like what's the point in spending time thinking and doing things which I dont really feel fulfilled about. Ever since I read Crime and Punishment, Dostoyevsky's 'Man is a mystery, a mystery that has to be solved, and if I spend my whole life solving that mystery, I will not feel like I have wasted my time', I fell in love with it. I totally concur with him.

Therefore, mental note to self--spend more time listening to my own voice, and being aware of my nature as I allow it to unfold in front of me. There is so much to learn, about my surroundings, about people, about nature, most importantly about myself. Sometimes it seems overwhelming, but just the prospect of having so much that I need to get in tune with is kind of refreshing too.

Today in my Arabic class I thought about a lot of these things, and more. I also tried to memorize the noun and predicate rules we were being talked to about :).

Travel Muses

I should be writing an abstract for some stupid conference. It's in Vancouver, and I am pretty pumped about going there, esp. since one of the field trips planned for the geeky attendees is a white water rafting trip, and am I looking forward to that! Well my excitement at that prospect has caused me to venture on the procrastination path.

Day dreaming about Vancouver got me thinking about why I love to travel so much. Its almost an addiction. Like the dopamine causes withdrawal if I stay away from it for too long (did I get my neurochem correct, I wonder?). And...I have been away, its been near 6 months, and I havent moved from Indiana soil (and snow). Well, I went to IL, but that doesnt really count, does it.

Moving, seeing, exploring ..it opens me. I think thats why I keep seeking it over and over again. All my internal gates are opened and things, feelings, thoughts, people, sights, sound...all go in and out freely. The flow is free and unrestrained and its so very very refreshing. Refreshing and exhilirating. After every new exploration I feel like I've gotten new lungs and realized new ways of breathing.

At the end of a travel session, I come back to my functional life, and the lungs start getting old, tired and foggy. Until another time to travel comes around, and the whole process is repeated. Although it seems sort of repetitive to go thru it over and over again, what I like about it is that even a few days of travel, even a week, and its enough to give me 'new lungs' that last for upto a year I think. Thats my max limit after which, if I dont get up and go somewhere, I begin to rot and pine for more.

Metaphorizing apart, travel comes with a practical component thats hard not to ignore. It costs money, although Lonely Planet shoe-strings do of course help. As a grad student, the dollars are sure hard to come by. And then theres the time factor...trying to write a thesis doesnt really give you too many days at a stretch to spare. And as a woman, its harder to feel 'safe' as I travel alone. A friend once said I was very flippant and had no risk perception. Probably why I've been where I've been and loved it so. And I only want more of it.

Either way, neither way, the addiction is still going strong, and I know theres no way I'll ever be in rehab for it :) Heres to travelling!

Thunder and Tea

Sitting on my comfy chair...Swirls of warmth coming out of my teacup; the smooth flavor of Earl Grey...Claps of thunder from the sky; the swaying branches of the many, many trees outside my window...The incense has just finished burning; I breathe deeply in the exhilirating scent...Calming Glasgow independent rock tunes fill the room...Lightening momentarily lights up the greyness...Lots of smiles coming from me; and comforting warmth on the inside...