In the world I live,the best I could imagine knowing and believe the most significant ,is me.
This sometimes springs-up doubts about its truth and worries about continuance of such belief.I have wondered why am I not the other person,but then, I question the significance of either of us.
Its chaos on the street -
The man in the car honks the biker,the biker gives back an rude stare;
Younger men and women working it out to retain their relative attractiveness;
A man rushing to some place,to work maybe;
The street hawker setting his cart;Another day of struggle.
An old man seated next to me watching it all.He has probably seen it all over and over, everyday.
Random conversations -
"Keep her in control,else you would regret";
"Mom ,you got to understand!She..";
"I wish I could go back...";
You know what,I never wanted this job the first pla..." ;
" ...when you have you own, until then f..,";
"..am already late...";
"...leave it, no point discussing...";
If entire creation was a painting ,would I be recognized as the speckle of darker shade on it? Would I be noticed by an observer from the sky.
Should I reconsider my ego?
There is life in the dept of the sea too;may be less or more chaotic and fearful.The waves rise and ascend in tandem.It sounds like the rhythmic breathing in a dreamless sleep.The waves, it is said,start off tall and then break and fall close to the shore.
The definition of ego is two -"An inflated feeling of pride in your superiority to others" and "Your consciousness of your own identity".The consciousness of my own identity in this world makes me anxious but pushes and grows me.My insignificance on the stage set by the land, ocean and sky, humbles me.
The purposelessness is understood and the search for purpose continues.