Mind Tales

An ode that reads like an ancient hymn straight out of an old archive. Enjoy the simple, ancient, mythic feel.  O Mountain! I am a lone wanderer that waits, Patient for the opening of misty gates, Foam of the sea-like sky, the flowing fates, Its embrace - I know - a touch of cooling warmth. O Mountain! Wisps of air clear to awaken, A silent wait to my breath taken. Yes, you are this rover's abode, A sacred carving to settle all misery and load. Oh, I can see ancient breath clear, Immortal's sight slips away fear. This carrion's death a concern no more, Like Sita's descent, soon to become Nature's lore. O Oros! This orophile's ears hear psithurisms call, Through the dense foliage of life droplets fall, Heralds are to come to Who stands tall, A shaman's architecture, a home in life abound. O Oros! You are a keeper of secrets many, Wisest wisdom worth beyond the penny. You embody Brutus' stoicism, its steady firm, Having stood Kronos' tests, you preach ...

  Reflect over the dangers of constantly outsourcing time as a distant idea - a concept of a resource to be used. Spend time but don't waste it. Anything spent -  A resource  of productive optimisation. You know you have less time, Rather, you always had. Don't "pass" it away. Use time, again productively, That you may have more free time. The golden future awaits. Invest time in the maximisation of output, Don't kill it. Time is a resource valuable. It can be extracted, Spent, Measured, Bought, Made output-yielding, But not lived as experience. It can't be dwelled in. No thoughts to that. Or you risk obsolescence, A timed-robot malfunctioning. What do we even know or understand of time (its nature) other than our phenomenological experience of it? Isn't it equally wise to sometimes - if not always - live and focus on psychological time as opposed to clock time - popularised by late-capitalism? Think. Read "Waiting - A Philosophical Exploration of the...

A short story that weaves myth, archetypal symbolism, and allegorical psychology. Carefully analyse guilt, rigidity, and other important thematic tensions. Reya was inside her room. She stood facing the curtains. She felt uneasy as if something stood behind the curtains. But that unease was quickly replaced by a curiosity after aeons. “What is it?” said Reya. The small table lamp in her room that, interestingly, was meant to light the entire space, started to flicker. It was all quiet. She could not even hear her own breathing. Perhaps it had stopped too. Reya was now walking down one of the grocery store’s aisles. She kept walking with a still face, motionless. She held something she had loved for long, almost had identified with it – her matchbox. Her grey eyes sat firm rock-solid. Someone deeply interested and mentally well-acquainted with the nuances of Greek mythology, would find her similar to a modern Medusa. Honestly, the polished curls of her hair closely resembled snakes and ...

 Reflect on an uncommon perspective on destiny. Track the metaphysics beneath the boulder's descent. Boulders. One atop a knoll rolls down. The wind pushes it to its fated crumble. The big boulder thought itself wise to have self-crowned itself, In the likeness of a daring despot over the knoll - reduced to constricted fear. In the dice of destiny, In the scroll of fate, There awaited a future  different. Fate is choice. Preordained choice. Choice chosen not by the wind but by the boulder when it was a rock, A deformed small stone, A hardened ball of sand, Sand, Dust, Matter, Void. Fate is choice. Preordained choice. Choice chosen by the boulder, In its basic essence. But, Essence is simply, Essence. It is knowing, Unconscious knowing. The Void chose to experience - conscious experience, Driven by the mind's concrete sensibility. It wanted to feel, Feel unconscious knowing by stepping out of it, In the realm of touch, Concrete sensibility, Concrete hardness of rock over the ai...