Divorce, what is it?

My husband and I are looking at finalizing our divorce in early 2015. It is just a few weeks away, and we will say goodbye to a 15+ year marriage, and 23+ year relationship. We met in 1991, I was 15, he was 17. We grew up together. And a lot has happened in our lives in these last two decades.

Today, at the threshold of a new life I find myself in a very strange place. I feel that my life, the construct that I lived in almost all my life has been broken into pieces. It is like a tornado came through and totally flattened and destroyed the home. I had spent 23 long years building that home, brick by brick, each brick was made of effort, love, and dreams. I am now standing over the ruins, looking at all the broken bricks, mortar, furniture, everything that resembled my home. I am mourning the loss of that construct. I am also looking at these ruins and wondering if I would ever be able to rebuild it again? Will I build another home with the same floor plan or will it be completely different? Will it even be here at this location? What kind of materials shall I use? Shall I live here or become a traveler? Should I just let go of everything, even the memories?

"Saamne muskurati hain manzil
Paaon lekin uthana hain mushkil"

(Caption says:  The destination is smiling right in front of me but it is very difficult to take the first step.)

In 2011, I had a major car accident from which I escaped without a scratch. In 2012, my mother passed away after a very short and painful fight with cancer. In 2013 I watched my marriage slowly disintegrate, get frayed, and finally in April 2014 it did not have a meaning anymore. I was not the initiator of this separation, so it was, and still is, very painful.

What am I really mourning? Was I blissfully happy every moment of all these 23 years? What is happiness, after all? What is love, after all? The more I reflect and delve deeper, I realize that I am mourning my attachments.

My attachment to him, my attachment to everything "his", my attachment to anything that resembled him, my attachment to what I dreamed him up to be, my attachment to what he could be, my attachment to the potential I saw in him, my attachment to my wishes for him, my attachment to all the memories of him....

My attachment to all the dreams of "us", my attachment to everything that we have been through together, my attachment to the sweet memories of courtship, my attachment to "stuff" that we acquired together, my attachment to the plans we had made together, my attachment to the path we walked together....

I am also mourning the loss of my naivety and childlike innocent belief in how the world works. I had believed that if you love someone, and give that person your all, it will get reciprocated. I had believed that trust is all that matters in the world. I had believed that no matter what, there will be at least few people in the world - parents, siblings, and spouse - who will always be there holding your back. That construct indeed got shattered.

I am also mourning the hurt to my ego. For all the things that I did for him and us, I had indeed expected a return. I had not recognized that before, but now that the home has flattened, I realized that there was this expectation buried deep inside each brick. It has come out now. I sacrificed a lot for this relationship - didn't have a kid, gave up good career prospects, even a shot at a PhD at Stanford, slogged like a mule in several thankless jobs to get our green card/citizenship, made the money so we could have the lifestyle he liked...... the list is long. But you know what, all this I thought I had done for "love", but now I do realize that it was not all selfless, I did expect a return from him in our future together. I had expected that he too put in effort and love in building that home, I had expected that some of the bricks were made of his toil too. But he didn't stay long enough. As we separate, I feel betrayed. And it hurts. And I realize that this hurt is because of the destruction of the construct I had created, based on "my" expectations. Yes, these expectations may be justified, since relationships are usually transactional in nature, and I gave more than I got back. But, the underlying factor remains, I stand here mourning everything that was "I", "me", "my", and "mine" - memories, effort, dreams, and expectations.

Life, I know, will go on. It always does. It will be a different one. I don't know what it'll be like for I never dreamed of that life before. It will be different, different bricks with different ingredients...

Yaar Maazi Yeh Toh Batah Mujhe

Yaar Maazi Yeh Toh Batah Mujhe

Yaar Maazi Yeh Toh Batah Mujhe
Jab Paimana Toot Jata hai
Kya Farkh Ki Woh Khaali Hai Ya Bhari Hai

Daulat, Shohrat, Aur Jawaani Nissaar Diya Tha Humne
Khubsoorat Bahaar Ke Qhwaab Dekhe The Humne
Aankh Se Yeh Waqt Ka Wazan Nahin Utarti Hai
Masoom Dil, Bekeraar, Raasta Aaj Bhi Dekhti Hai

Yaar Maazi Yeh Toh Batah Mujhe
Jab Paimana Toot Jata hai
Kya Farkh Ki Woh Khaali Hai Ya Bhari Hai

Meri Jinnh Bhi Ghum Hai Aaj, Bewafaa
Wada Faramosh Ne Chod Diya Mujhe Gumraah
Aaj Dil Ko Hum Samjhate Hain Raat Din Har Ghari
Raakh Ko Mat Cherd, Jo Jal Chuka Hai Woh Pura Nahin Hota Kabhi

Yaar Maazi Yeh Toh Batah Mujhe
Jab Paimana Toot Jata hai
Kya Farkh Ki Woh Khaali Hai Ya Bhari Hai

Sab Kehte Hain Ki Humko Phir Se Yakeen Karna Hai Zindagi Pe
Dil Ko Azaad Karna Hai, Muhabbat Pe Aitbaar Karna Hai Phir Se
Par Mera Saya Abhi Bhi Mujhse Bezaar Hai
Yaadon Ki Sui Dil Mein Abhi Bhi Cheedi Hai

Yaar Maazi Yeh Toh Batah Mujhe
Jab Paimana Toot Jata hai
Kya Farkh Ki Woh Khaali Hai Ya Bhari Hai

Crossing

Crossing

Horns, ripples, you hear them all

Faces too, fire of living

Then you decide the pain has to stop

Attachment or peace,

Yes, that is the choice, no home

No shore, just an illusion 

Become, decide, persevere.

That day, we crossed the bridge

On that rickety sweat soaked bus

Window panes were chattering,

Too much noise, drowned the

  quiet brown river below

Flowing between the two shores

Constantly eroding its bounds

Did we really cross over,

Is it finished then?

Mahalaya, and the emotions it evokes in me

Baajlo Tomar Aalor Benu
Maatlo Je Bhubon
Aaj Probhate Se Sur Shune Khule Dinu Mon
Antare Ja Lukiye Raaje
Arun Binayai Se Sur Baaje
Ai Ananda Jagye Sobaar Madhuro Amantran
Maatlo Je Bhubon!....

For the last thirty eight years, as long as I can remember, I have woken with this song on this day. No matter where I lived, I have listened to Mahalaya on this day. It evokes a myriad of feelings in me. Life has been through so much in these years, this one aspect of my life has remained constant.

Mahalaya is about hope, about Devi Durga waging a war with the demon, Mahishasur (Buffalo Demon) and killing him after a vigorous battle. It was a time when the demons were wrecking heaven and earth, Durga was born from that extreme helplessness and pain. The story is about how she was created to bring about destruction of evil, how she was endowed, how she marched to war, how the demon changed forms to deceive her, how she bravely fought, how she won at the end. She was beautiful, full of hope and inspiration, required to do the most difficult task of fighting the worst enemy, how she wakes up and how she delivers. The fellow gods give her the weapons, and Durga then goes into war riding a lion, fighting the demon and his million forms and after a very difficult battle manages to pierce his heart with the spear.

This is not the only story surrounding Mahalaya, there are many more. One such story is of Karna (from Mahabharata), after he died in the battle, slain by his brother Arjuna, went to heaven was not given food since he did not pay respects to his ancestors while he was living. In his defense, he did not know who his ancestors were as he was an adopted child. He was sent down to earth during this new moon day of Mahalaya, to spend then next fortnight performing all the rites for his ancestors (Pitri Pakhya). We Bengalis, spend this auspicious day remembering our ancestors and paying respect (Torpon). The other story is that Rama (from Ramayana) performed this puja before the went to war with Ravana. It is said he had run out of lotuses to offer to the goddess and was about to cut out his lotus-like eye to make an offering and the goddess appeared and stopped him, she blessed him for the upcoming war. Another story is of Durga coming to visit her parents (Himalaya) with her four kids - Lakshmi (goddess of wealth), Saraswati (goddess of learning), Karthik (god that helps people overcome vices), and Ganesha (god of prosperity, and quite a Momma's boy!).

I was never a fan of religion or the gods. Born in India, I grew up with the mythological stories, with Ramayana and Mahabharata, and the thousands of stories about gods and demons, of good and evil. Those stories are dear to me, very dear. They are woven in the fabric of my existence. I don't try to rationalize them, I don't try to also find the scientific background for all that. It does not matter whether it happened for real, or if the gods will get angry if I do not "believe" it for real. I like these stories for their allegory, I see them as stories that show you how life really is and gives you wisdom through example. Yes, I find it very unfortunate that the population of India takes some of these stories and characters to the level of fanaticism and fight each other over them, and fail to imbibe the ultimate truth of these stories in their life. But I can't do anything about that, no matter how much I try to change the world, I only have the power to look into my being and change myself.

Durga puja is during early autumn, and Mahalaya is on the first moon of that season. Back in India, this is the time when the rains are gone, the mornings are enveloped in a seductive mist, there is a slight chill in the air that makes you draw the bed sheet over you in the mornings. The sheuli flowers are in full bloom spreading their heady fragrance about the neighborhood, so is the kaash phool blooming in the vast open fields. During such a time, in the pre-dawn hours, when you are in that place between sleep and waking up (tandra), that is when Mahalaya is played over the radio. The beaming resonant voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra fills the home, punctuated by the 'aagomoni' (welcome) songs rendered in the early morning ragas - Bhairavi, Marwa, Lalit, Poorvi, etc. You wake up to "Jaago Tumi Jaago....", your whole being resonating with the message of hope and happiness.

As I look back into my childhood, that was one morning, my dad used to let me stay in bed till the whole Mahalaya was complete. I used to feel so peaceful, just lying in bed, not a care in the world, reveling in the present moment, listening to the beautiful songs and chanting. I did not understand the words then, but they resonated with me. Chanting invoking the goddess, singing about her beauty, her radiance, her promise, and her victory over evil. The words are some in Bengali, some Vedic Sanskrit, some in Hindi, all of them so poetic, so melodious.  I am told that my maternal grandfather used to do Chandi Paath every year at their local puja. Too bad I never got to hear it, he passed away when I was two. After I came to the US, we could only listen to Mahalaya on CD/online and not on the radio anymore. My husband did not care much for it, so sometimes I played it in the mornings, but mostly listened to it on my own on my way to work, on this day every year. It always seemed to swell my heart with emotions.

Emotions that come up are a mix of nostalgia, of sadness, of happiness, of helplessness, of hope, all intertwined in a strong fabric that lays on me as the music permeates my pores. All my five senses and memories come alive with this music. Puja of my childhood was one of expectation and happiness in Ranchi - new clothes, holidays, spending time with friends, no studies, performing plays and songs at the local pandal, eating bhog everyday, staying up late, complete freedom, smell of the incense, giving anjali, folding the lotus petals for the puja at night, dancing dhunuchi, trying out the food stalls, giggling with friends, and of course as we grew up , those fleeting glances at the boys. Few pujas were spent at my ancestral home in either Barrackpore or Jaynagar Majilpur, and I remember the happy times spent with my cousins, including the trivial fights we had over a face powder, or lipstick, or a string of fake pearls. The lights of those pujas had a different glow to them, flickering tube lights, the smell of suburbs with incense all about, and the beats of dhaak uplifting the spirits everyday. 

As I grew up, puja changed for me. My years in Kolkata were very memorable. In 1991, I was falling in love, that first puja was simmering with anticipation to see him, waiting on the veranda to watch him coming over to my place, only to hold hands for a minute while no one was looking. That flicker in my heart, the missed beats, I still feel that sometimes when I remember those days. Then, as usual, he had to go home. I went about the rest of the puja days, visiting family across town, going to pandals all about the city, and feeling his essence with me all the time, imagining of how beautiful puja would be when we will be married. Seven long years were spent that way, in dreaming, until we moved together to the US in 1998. For the next three years, puja was again different, not like I dreamed it to be. We spent time at the temple at Buffalo during the puja weekend, helping with the puja food cooking, and then rehearsing for plays for Bijoya (victory) celebrations at Rochester. I used to wear sarees, my wedding sarees, and I was so bad at it!! I also remember cooking goat meat curry for 50+ people, that was quite a challenge for the new cook in me!! 

Puja at Buffalo /Rochester was great but no substitute for the puja feeling in India. I longed for the two of us spend a puja in Kolkata, make my dreams to come true. But we were students/early career workers, who could not get time off during mid September, no way! And the tickets were so expensive! I think most of all I wished about playing sindoor. Ever since I was a kid, I watched in awe, on the day of Dasami, when the married women would pay respect to the goddess and bid her goodbye by putting sindoor on her and 'feeding' her some shondesh. Then, they would do that to each other. At the end of the session, everyone's face was red with the sindoor. It was a time of happy laughter and shared feeling of love. Women were seeking blessings from the goddess for their happy marital life and wishing each other the same. While in Buffalo/Rochester, somehow I never got the chance to play sindoor and it was a desire I kept dormant in my heart. In the following years in Irvine, Raleigh, Australia, I did not even attend any puja. To be honest, I did not connect with the 'probasi' group anymore. I felt awkward attending these events. These events are very much about local Bengalis coming together, meeting up over food, flaunting their latest sarees and jewelry from Kolkata, have their young kids perform on stage, or talk about older kids going to every which top university in the US, etc. I don't share that common story, I have no kids, and no interest in latest fashion from Kolkata or jewelry, and so I feel very out of place. In 2012, Baba (dad) was visiting and we did go to the local San Diego celebration for a brief 15 minutes, that was enough for me. The pujas here in the US just don't invoke that feeling of elation in me. It seems lacking the spirit.

But I have to mention, after 14 years of not celebrating a "real" puja, I did visit Kolkata in 2011 and got the chance to absorb and revel in the essence of puja. I landed in Kolkata on the day of Mahalaya, and I listened to the program on my mobile device during the flight, the emotions of homecoming were very strong. As the plane landed, I was primed, anticipation was high. It was a fabulous trip. I spent almost all of it at my home in Patuli, at our local puja that Maa and Baba helped build over the last two decades. Maa was very active in those festivities, and also fell sick for the first time during that puja. It was to be her last puja, but we did not know that at that time, cancer was eating her insides. I feel so sad and happy at the same time when I remember that puja. I did get to play sindoor, for the first time in my 12 years of marriage, and I got to  play with my mom too. It was indeed a dream come true! But then, that was to be the last sindoor I would play, for my marriage broke up in the ensuing years.

Sindoor Khela, 2011 Durga Puja at Patuli

So, as I look back on Mahalaya every year, I am enveloped in a pervasive sense of a sad kind of happiness. I know that does not make literal sense, maybe if I were a poet, I could put the right words to describe it. Mahalaya is very sweet, it is full of promise and hope, of victory, of joy, of sharing and loving one another. The spirit is of renewal and rejoicing. For me it is also full of this pain of time gone by that will never return, it reminds me how ephemeral life and everything linked to it is. We ride the waves each year and the tides ebb and flow. Nothing ever remains constant. No matter how hard we try to hold on to everything we consider precious, it changes, it evolves, it arises and passes away. Today, as I write, I have Mahalaya playing, and I feel as if I am just an observer on the bank of my own life, where my life is but a river that flows on with all its eddies and currents and at times calm, under the surface teaming with life, and death.

The Truth is ..... White!

I just got back from a 10-day Vipassana meditation camp. This was my second retreat. My first retreat was in January 2010, and it was in many ways life changing, for it gave me the confidence to start Proteus, and change many  other things in my life to lead a peaceful purposeful life. Last four years have been quite dramatic, with a near death experience in 2011, my mother's passing in 2012, and then the gradual disintegration of my marriage over the last two years. I have survived these storms bravely, I think. I credit my meditation practice, and the insight that I gain out of it, as a great asset in my life. My experience with Vipassana is, however, painted by my life experience. It worked for me and I unreservedly recommend it to everyone. Your experience will be different, painted by your life experience. To that effect I want to tell you a little story:

There were two young kids, they were very good friends, they were beggars. One of them was blind. Every morning they would go out and beg together and share their proceeds at the end of the day. One day the blind kid was sick and was not able to go out to beg. His friend went out alone and as they were friends, he promised to share his proceeds with the blind kid at the end of the day. The kid went from home to home and collected alms. At one home, the housewife was very generous and gave him some very tasty kheer (rice pudding with milk). The kid enjoyed the kheer and as he did not have anything to carry the kheer home, he could not bring any back for his blind friend. When he got home in the evening, he brought home the story of the kheer and described the kheer as sweet, very tasty, fragrant, and pure white. His blind friend asked - "What is White? I've never seen White? Can you please explain?" The other kid said - "Well, errrr, White is not black, not colored....". The blind kid asked, "What is black then? What is colored? As you know I cannot see. Can you give me an example of a white thing?" So the kid went out and brought back a beautiful white swan. He said, "White is like this swan." The blind kid ran his fingers over the white swan and touched the smooth body and feathers and said - "Aah! I understand now! White is soft and downy, like this swan." The other kid went - "No! You got it all wrong! White is not soft and downy! It's just white!" Disappointed, the blind kid tried to understand again. He ran his fingers from from the beak, over the head of the swan, down the long neck, over the body and to the tail. he concluded - "Aah! I understand now! White is crooked, just like this swan!"

So, my friends, no matter how well I try to describe my Vipassana experience, it will be like me trying to explain my White to you, and all you'll find it as is Crooked. So, I will not try to give you any more details of my experience. Instead of below are some answers to the common questions I encounter when talking about my meditation practice:

How can one stay silent for nine days! I can never do that!
Being silent for nine days is the easiest. Once you shut off the incessant chatter, you realize how useless most of that communication is. You also, often for the first time, listen to the tremendous amount of chatter within yourself. It's amazing, you do not miss talking to other people at all. You also realize how much we use our verbal faculties to add to the misery of our lives, by using it more than necessary, sometimes also speaking lies or half-truths, or adding extra colors to the white truth, or use it with malicious intent, sometimes even unintentionally. So, for the nine days you are actually grateful that you do not talk. On the 10th day, you love talking again, but you now do it very mindfully. You will have a great appreciation for this faculty you possess and most of you will not use it unwisely again.
(It's just that you don't communicate with fellow meditators and don't destroy either peoples' equanimity. You are free to talk to the management and to the assistant teachers regarding any issue you may have at the camp or about the technique.)

I heard they starve you there! The food is not good!
My aunt said this as soon as she heard that I'm going to the camp. Yes, there are no dinners, there is fruit for new students, and only tea for old students. But, when meditating for 12 hours a day and doing no major physical activity, you really do not need a lot of food. I never felt I needed a dinner at night, I did not miss it at all! Also, I found that you should leave 1/4th of your tummy empty at the other two meals, or else it adversely affects your ability to meditate effectively. We usually eat more than what our body needs. Food, like speech, is often used by us as something to lean on for our emotional issues.
The quality of food is fabulous! You all know what a discerning foodie I am, and I loved every morsel there. It was fresh, nutritious, and tasty. The variety was great, it's a buffet so you can eat what you want. And when secluded from the world, your senses are very sharp, you can taste the flavor and texture and savor every spoonful, feeling gracious to be served. It's a wonderful feeling!

Are they trying to convert me? Do they have yoga? Massages? Do you go there to relax?
No. There is no one trying to convert you to a religion. The course is designed to teach you a specific meditation technique that addresses the root cause of all issues in life. It's a boot camp for meditation and that's all you do. There is no sitting by the pool, sunbathing with green mask on your face, listening to new age music, with a massage therapist working on your tight muscles, while your eyes are cooling under cucumber slices. There is no imagineering your desires, or mindmapping your future. No yoga, no other exercises. I will not even say it's relaxing because you are working very hard for from 4am to 9pm every day, not physical labor, all mental. First, you learn to discipline yourself, then you learn how to appreciate your own mind and concentrate and then meditate. You learn a great deal about yourself, and about how the world works. You investigate the universal truth on yourself and understand it on a very deep level. You come out, realigned and rejuvenated with insight that helps you lead a peaceful life, armed with tools to work with the world. No hocus-pocus, mumbo-jumbo, feel-good mushy stuff, and certainly no religious dogma, or else I would not be recommending it, would I?
(Be rest assured, no one is trying to take away your religious beliefs either. You'll be just learning a meditation technique in its purest form.)

My creativity will get affected if I meditate and find peace. I don't think it will work for me. 
This comes from my artist friends, particularly from a budding filmmaker friend in India, and from one very promising painter and artist here is San Diego. Artists feel that their creativity stems from their chaos within. This notion is further enhanced by the stories in the media about the rich and famous rock stars and movie personalities who live a very alcohol and drug infused chaotic life. Such a chaotic life also seems romantic. I believe otherwise. I think meditation gives you profound insight and clarity into the nature of life and that unleashes your creativity. Isn't that what artists do? Channel the truth in the world through their lenses? This meditation technique allows you to relax in your own skin and enable you to see perspectives from many different sides that makes your creation more unique and complete. When others look at your idea or work, each person gets to take their own supreme view and usually are amazed at how you could have thought it all so clearly and fit in all those perspectives in that tiny space so beautifully. Admirers of your work multiply very quickly. Trust me, artists, you have nothing to fear.

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Enough said. If you have more questions, please call/email/message me. I'll be happy to share my "white truth" with you. Please also check out the following:
What it is and What it is not
Questions and Answers
Where do I sign up? Courses are taught all over the world.
A TED Talk
Video Description

Between the poles of expression and suppression of your emotions (through action/inaction), there lies a middle path - observation. The Vipassana meditation technique teaches you how to do that and you learn to achieve equanimity. You learn, not by listening to talks, not by intellectual reasoning, but observing within the framework of your own body and mind, the universal concept of annicca (impermanence) and annata (egolessness).

No need to believe my soft or crooked truth, go find for yourself. The Truth is ....... White!

Tear and what can I do about it

My husband and I are separating. We are in the process of ending a 23 year old relationship and this is a very difficult time in my life. It feels like there is nothing to make me move forward. There is a deep sense of vacuum that I have never encountered in my life, everything that I had constructed as a image of life seems to have shattered. I am feeling fearful, confused, a deep and profound groundlessness. I am interacting with the world but it seems to not have any meaning. I feel that nothing can put it together. I will however mention that except for only one day of anger that I felt during the early days, I have not been angry at all. It's just this profound feeling that I don't have a ground to stand on.

It's been about two months since we took the decision to separate, but our relationship has been on the decline for about two years. I worked hard on trying to fix it but it was not to be. What has happened has happened. What I think I need to do is find a path forward.

Have you thought about the word Tear? It's the word that means something that has been broken or shredded, it also means the little droplets of salty water that flow from the eye when you are hurt. Today was the first time that word made sense to me. When your world is in shreds, it hurts and you cry. Tear leads to tears. It's one miraculous word that expresses both cause and effect.

My world changed quite a bit when I did my first Vipassana meditation course in January 2010. Then, the following year, I had a major accident from which I escaped without a scratch. In 2012, my mother passed away unexpectedly after a short battle with occult primary cancer. After that it took two painful years for my marriage to dissolve. I am also in the middle of a health scare that I am maneuvering though right now. I feel as if I am at the end of all experiences that I could have in a lifetime and I'm only 38 years old! But I do know there is much more that this world can serve to me, I just have to prepare myself for it.

Today, where I stand, I have a few thoughts going through my mind that are very profound. I am beginning to feel and understand at a very deep level the futility of pursuit of happiness by worldly means, that Shantideva so eloquently put it as "We, who are like senseless children, shrink from suffering, but love its causes." To some extent I knew this from the tender age of nine. I remember sitting on the terrace at our apartment in Hyderabad and thinking about this - why was my father so insistent on grades, what will it really give me, when I grow up and make money and status will it be actually what is right, why do I feel that people are running around and scrambling and not really understanding the futility of this marathon, can I just leave everything and focus on the poor, will that be the best thing to do for me, then what about security and who will look out for me when I am sick and old......  At that time my Sanskrit teacher at school was making us learn chanting "Bhaja Govindam" by Shankaracharya. We used to learn the verses and enter competitions to recite them and win prizes (listen). There were may verses that resonated with me then, though I was probably too young to understand them. These three in particular were my favorite and to this day I can recite them anytime:

नलिनीदलगत जलमतितरलं
तद्वज्जीवितमतिशयचपलम्
विद्धि व्याध्यभिमानग्रस्तं
लोकं शोकहतं च समस्तम्
(Translation: The life of a person is as uncertain as rain drops trembling on a lotus leaf, Know that the whole world remains a prey to disease, ego and grief.)

मा कुरु धन जन यौवन गर्वं
हरति निमेषात्कालः सर्वम्
मायामयमिदमखिलं हित्वा
ब्रह्मपदं त्वं प्रविश विदित्वा
(Translation: Do not boast of wealth, friends, and youth. Each one of these are destroyed within a minute by time. Free yourself from the illusion of the world of Maya and attain the timeless Truth.)

सत्सङ्गत्वे निस्सङ्गत्वं
निस्सङ्गत्वे निर्मोहत्वम्
निर्मोहत्वे निश्चलतत्त्वं
निश्चलतत्त्वे जीवन्मुक्तिः
(Translation: From the company of good people, comes non-attachment, from non-attachment comes
freedom from delusion, which leads to self-settledness, From self-settledness comes salvation).

The essence of these verses resonated with me then, but I had to let it go. What could I have done? Become an ascetic? I told myself that I was silly thinking of such stuff, for there are no answers to questions like this. But strangely enough, these questions have haunted me over and over again. I have asked myself these questions in private almost every year since, I have played around with possible answers for about couple decades. I had no one to discuss them with, I was also afraid that I would be coded as narcissistic or laughed at because these were existential questions and not something young people delve into. It was stuff for old retired people to ponder on when they have excess time on their hands. These questions did not fit the construct of the world I was in. The job of young people is to study hard, get a honorable degree, work, build a career, marry, buy a house, have a family, be the best parent you can be, save for retirement, play with grandkids, etc. I pursued that path.

And now? My world is torn apart, there are tears in my heart, where does that leave me? Should I pursue these questions now or should I construct another world - partner, career, money, cars, vacations, etc. - for another 30 years? I don't know. I suppose I am at a crossroad, and it's very cloudy, I should figure this out! The opportunity is there, but am I ready? Am I afraid?

What is Normal? Are you Normal? Am I Normal?

I am reading The Winner Stands Alone, a novel by Paulo Coelho. Actually, I'm listening to the audiobook read by Paul Boehmer. I drive a lot and find it convenient to borrow audiobooks from the library to listen to.

I am halfway through it, and is the first time I'm reading Coelho. I find it very beautiful  and dark at the same time. It has a strong undercurrent of philosophy or thought-provoking passages.

One passage struck me very close and I think of this often too. One of the characters has a running list of items he observes "normal" people do. It's a very interesting list:

These days… “NORMAL IS…”

• Anything that makes us forget who we are and what we want; that way we can work in order to produce, reproduce, and earn money.
• Setting out rules for waging war (the Geneva Convention).
• Spending years studying at university only to find out at the end of it all that you’re unemployable.
• Working from nine till five every day at something that gives you no pleasure just so that, after thirty years, you can retire.
• Retiring and discovering that you no longer have enough energy to enjoy life and dying a few years out of sheer boredom.
• Using Botox.
• Believing that power is much more important than money and that money is much more important than happiness.
• Making fun of anyone who seeks happiness rather than money and accusing them of “lacking ambition.”
• Comparing objects like cars, houses, clothes, and defining life according to those comparisons, instead of trying to discover the real reason for being alive.
• Never talking to strangers. Saying nasty things about the neighbors.
• Believing that your parents are always right.
• Getting married, having children, and staying together long after all love has died, saying that it’s for the good of the children (who are, apparently, deaf to the constant rows).
• Criticizing anyone who tries to be different.
• Waking up each morning to a hysterical alarm clock on the bedside table.
• Believing absolutely everything that appears in print.
• Wearing a scrap of colored cloth around your neck, even though it serves no useful purpose, but which answers to the name of “tie.”
• Never asking a direct question, even though the other person can guess what it is you want to know.
• Keeping a smile on your lips even when you’re on the verge of tears. Feeling sorry for those who show their feelings.
• Believing that art is either worth a fortune or worth nothing at all.
• Despising anything that was easy to achieve because if no sacrifice was involved, it obviously isn't worth having.
• Following fashion trends, however ridiculous or uncomfortable.
• Believing that all famous people have tons of money saved up.
• Investing a lot of time and money in external beauty and caring little about internal beauty.
• Using every means possible to show that, although you’re just an ordinary human being, you’re far above other mortals.
• Never looking anyone in the eye when you’re traveling on public transport, in case it’s interpreted as a sign that you’re trying to get off with them.
• Standing facing the door in an elevator and pretending you’re the only person there, no matter how crowded it is.
• Never laughing too loudly in a restaurant no matter how good the joke.
• In the northern hemisphere, always dressing according to the season: bare arms in spring (however cold it is) and woolen jacket in winter (however hot it is).
• In the southern hemisphere, covering the Christmas tree with fake snow even though winter has nothing to do with the birth of Christ.
• Assuming, as you grow older, that you’re the guardian of the world’s wisdom, even if you haven’t necessarily lived enough to know what’s right and wrong.
• Going to a charity tea party and thinking that you've done your bit toward putting an end to social inequity in the world.
• Eating three times a day even if you’re not hungry.
• Believing that other people are always better than you–better-looking, more capable, richer, more intelligent–and that it’s very dangerous to step outside your own limits, so it’s best to do nothing.
• Using your car as a weapon and impenetrable armor.
• Swearing when in heavy traffic.
• Believing everything your child does wrong is entirely down to the company he or she keeps.
• Marrying the first person who offers you a decent position in society. Love can wait.
• Always saying, “I tried” when you didn't really try at all.
• Postponing doing the really interesting things in life for later, when you don’t have the energy.
• Avoiding depression with large daily doses of television.
• Believing that you can be sure of everything you've achieved.
• Assuming that women don’t like football and that men aren't interested in home decorating and cooking.
• Blaming the government for all the bad things that happen.
• Thinking that being a good, decent, respectable person will mean that others will see you as weak, vulnerable, and easy to manipulate.
• Being equally convinced that aggression and rudeness are synonymous with having a “powerful personality.”
• Being afraid of having an endoscopy (if you’re a man) and giving birth (if you’re a woman).
• And finally, thinking that your religion is the sole proprietor of the absolute truth, the most  important, the best, and that the other human beings in this immense planet who believe in any other manifestation of God are condemned to the fires of hell.

So, how NORMAL are you?