Wednesday, September 11, 2013

All these people, all these things that we please

*In the neighbourhood people watching me
Got to move to protect my sanity
Anonymity is all I want you see
You may think it's mediocrity, but

But this weight is just bringing me down
It's never satisfied every time I go to town

- Van Morrison, This Weight Which weight you say? 

The weight that you choose. There are two possible weights.  Everything must weigh something, if it has to be something, if it has to be anything actually. One possible weight is the weight down. The weight that only pulls down. The other is the weight that attributes free, soulful existence of anything. One can we compared to a permanent anchor. The other can be compared to a feather, which really has no real weight, but since everything must have some weight to be something, it has one. 

The thing with the two possible weights is that they are mutually exclusive. One can weigh like this, or one can weight like that.  You can't have anything weighing like both. This is the choice we have, and which is usually inbuilt before we can choose for anything to be weighed like the other.  

Then there's another weight. The actual weight. The weight that, even if you don't talk about, you feel anyway. The weight that's actually a part of the structure of things. If you'd like it, it's physical weight. The sum of all its structures. It's inherent weight. Even if you don't put it on a weighing scale. With real, fake or made up scales. It will still weigh as heavy. And that's a part of the game. It's a choice hazard, and usually one that you make the choice for. It comes along with a thrill that really doesn't feel as heavy. The thrill which is the weight. The thrill which is the weight like a feather, which is hardly any weight at all. The thrill which is like a feather that flies with the wind, and probably meets with other feathers that other winds bring.  I'll skip any obvious metaphor here.

So there. You have two kinds of weights. The inherent and the attached. The attached can be the yanked-only-downwards, or can be the feather.  The feather like a weight loss program that actually works but doesn't slim into oblivion, but freedom and confidence.

When you converse, act, share, be, conform and do everything else - what are the weights you allow? Are you really putting forward a self that is a feather, hoping to meet another feather that the influx of breeze has bought in? Or are you basically making an attempt, one that you're probably innocently aculturised to do, to weigh down and seek conformation to norms that you weigh down with. And in case those norms aren't reciprocated, sometimes almost immediately, does it trigger a threat to your mind, and start to act like the whole world started to fall apart because someone didn't conform to the weigh(t) down.  The weight down that everyone in the world confirms to because it'll upset the system that we've been following so far. It will ruin years, centuries and maybe generations of stability that we've achieved - that we, so fearfully and weigheddownly, hold fort because the world cannot fall apart. It will set us into a crazy imbalance. Even if we're bound in that stability, we should remain stable *at all costs*. Because below from stability is an unending abyss of doom and chaos which we will fall into.  Fluttering in the breeze like a feather is simply unacceptable, even when it offers much more freedom - individually and together. 

We are reputed and recognised by the increasing stakes that we carry on our shoulders, and more by how we manage them. We, all, so goes the rule, deserve cub scout like badges when we've managed not to tip the balance of a ridiculously expensive we strive to keep. It is the hallmark of our pride, respect and privilege in community and society. The moment we lose that control over our stakes, ironically, we get banished out of those positions, out into the club of the unprivileged. 

The question we usually refuse to ask, even if it comes to the tip of our tongue though is,  who are actually serving? Or what we are actually serving, for that matter. You'll find a huge straw man in the corner. You can poke at him if you please. Take a giant picture and throw darts at him as well. Or if you're thinking what I'm thinking, burn him down!          

* The verse from the Van Morrison song is taken because it fits into what I'm  saying. It may or may not be the actual meaning of it.

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