Romanticizing the grief

It has always been the grief that has kept me grounded and I never forget that I am just another human being. Yes, I am someone who can traverse boundaries hopping many Himalayas in search of truth and yet I am someone who does not know the purpose of my existence. This grounded person accepts his vulnerability to the external shocks and the non availability of any refuge after the hardships. He also understands the shallowness of his intellect and at the same time, appreciates his past experience of devising his own theories of this philosophical life.

As a close accomplice, the grief has mesmerized me with its sheer prowess in showing new selves of mine. Every journey is started by a cursed traveler who on the way finds his age old accomplice and then time just flies off. On reaching the destination, the sudden enlightenment and the feeling of swimming through decades of learning keeps bringing me closer to it.

They say that wisdom is the daughter of life lived through varied experiences. I feel myself breathing and really alive when I am swept through this rapid of emotional experiences. The stimulation gives a high that is irresistible.

Mind you, the urge may become very high yet it has its own limitation. And this is something that I have learnt over a period of time. Life is just like that elastic band, which seems to be stretchable to unimaginable extent. And therein lies the trap and we engulf ourselves in the rapid torrents of elation and sorrowfulness. My friend grief, can only give you the yield to resist that extra stretch but it cannot give you the much needed infinite elasticity. It asks you not to push oneself too hard or you will buckle.

Who will develop that extra yield is something I have left for the time to decide. Perhaps, there is no one. Or may be I know who he is. The cognitive dissonance, though very evident, yet keeps eluding me in my search of such answers.