It is funny how the slightest molecule of a word or action can temporarily crucify your brains and hence leave you unattended for hours, for there was no warning, there was no reason, there is no other cure but time. So, the solution when one falls into such a black-hole of untraced feelings is nothing but the wait!! The hope that the feeling will cure itself, will fade into the background, will not retrace itself back, will just be another joke for the future.And while one is at it, he/she may as well try and find another solution.
The riddle I find troubling is that feeling, that utter sense of indifference, that silent smile-killer, which does not emanate from any other person, or any parent feeling but from the being experiencing it itself. It is not a result of copious happiness, but a result of dubious self-realisation.
The feeling shows lack of certain virtues elegantly hidden within the shroud of confidence. It arises from crisis between the wants and needs of the self. A war of untold words between the tamed mind and the starving conscience, which that action sparked relentlessly. And there is nothing more consuming for a person than the strife of the intellect.
The riddle remains unsolved, unless every hairline of a fault in the sequence of beliefs that hold the person together is incinerated. The riddle remains dormant till every micron of improvement has been appreciated and implemented. The riddle rests with every self-aware individual but the perfect. I, for one, am not.
A riddle is only as long as an answer isn’t. Firstly, is something a riddle at all?!If yes, then the riddle was placed with intentions-known and ignorant. The causality falls to mere communication – mischievous or inexpressive. Even more probable is the case when the creator is not demanding clarity. May be it has been used to unclear images. In this case, there is reason to rescue the creator. For there is no affinity towards completion, unlike character. And completion is not a solo-performance, too absurd if at all.
Riddles are not and cannot be a boon to growth. They are like a drop of sweat that appear owing to the ambience, but must vanish for its own purpose. They must be succeeded by a solution. An apt solution. And for that, we might as well need the apt question - untainted by indifference, sparked by inquisitiveness, immaterialised by understanding.
Riddles can be a test of understanding, too. A tool which does not aspire for an answer, but for a junction. A common end to the logical progression of the creator and the puzzled. It seeks the bliss that follows an unfailing journey through insatiable hunger for misunderstandings. And at that crossroad of life, I see completion. Just the feeling. As is the riddle, on how the dove felt when it first flew, how the full moon felt when it lit a cloudless night, how the cloud felt when it rained all it ever had. Not words, not answers, not descriptions. Father Flynn puts it with my strongest agreement, “Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty”.
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The riddle I find troubling is that feeling, that utter sense of indifference, that silent smile-killer, which does not emanate from any other person, or any parent feeling but from the being experiencing it itself. It is not a result of copious happiness, but a result of dubious self-realisation.
The feeling shows lack of certain virtues elegantly hidden within the shroud of confidence. It arises from crisis between the wants and needs of the self. A war of untold words between the tamed mind and the starving conscience, which that action sparked relentlessly. And there is nothing more consuming for a person than the strife of the intellect.
The riddle remains unsolved, unless every hairline of a fault in the sequence of beliefs that hold the person together is incinerated. The riddle remains dormant till every micron of improvement has been appreciated and implemented. The riddle rests with every self-aware individual but the perfect. I, for one, am not.
A riddle is only as long as an answer isn’t. Firstly, is something a riddle at all?!If yes, then the riddle was placed with intentions-known and ignorant. The causality falls to mere communication – mischievous or inexpressive. Even more probable is the case when the creator is not demanding clarity. May be it has been used to unclear images. In this case, there is reason to rescue the creator. For there is no affinity towards completion, unlike character. And completion is not a solo-performance, too absurd if at all.
Riddles are not and cannot be a boon to growth. They are like a drop of sweat that appear owing to the ambience, but must vanish for its own purpose. They must be succeeded by a solution. An apt solution. And for that, we might as well need the apt question - untainted by indifference, sparked by inquisitiveness, immaterialised by understanding.
Riddles can be a test of understanding, too. A tool which does not aspire for an answer, but for a junction. A common end to the logical progression of the creator and the puzzled. It seeks the bliss that follows an unfailing journey through insatiable hunger for misunderstandings. And at that crossroad of life, I see completion. Just the feeling. As is the riddle, on how the dove felt when it first flew, how the full moon felt when it lit a cloudless night, how the cloud felt when it rained all it ever had. Not words, not answers, not descriptions. Father Flynn puts it with my strongest agreement, “Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty”.
.
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