I agree to follow my instincts most of the time, a timeless treatise on attention and follow up, and yet at any moment when I try and reconsider it, I tend to minutely stress out on only a fraction of it, highlighting its importance, which is often conceptualised through my basic surroundings. Despite this odd routine that I tend to follow, the fact that most of my time goes into my brain focusing its primal attention on anxiety, laziness and various other fears that occupy it, it also acts as a significant contributor to robbing me of my happiness.
I have never noticed how much time do I spend after this daily business, with absolutely no productivity, something which i’m sure i’ll still indulge in after writing his short stifle between my heart and brain. I am a weak person, easy to be played around with. But then aren’t all of us are. Each time we search for our symptoms on google and find that our headache might be a warning for a brain tumour, one that you might have had never guessed, or each time your plane makes those weird noises 35,000 above ground, and your anxiety leads you to thinking about all the innumerable ways you could possibly die.You are clearly not the only one to think this way though, neither would you be the last.
Strange, is it not, notably surprising too, something which could perhaps be avoided through a little more sleep or completely flabbergasted with a cup of milkshake. Sugar makes me happy, something must be your sweet ingredient too, but is it worth all this effort? Oh, sweet lord Jesus, it very well is, it complements your happiness, and makes you feel better. Why do you think does a child stops crying for a box of chocolates even while his ears hurt while the plane that is definitely going to crash,takes off.
Instinctive decisions aren’t always the best and are certainly not meant to be able to help one out with anything and everything but every now and then they do help, after all it is what our memories suggest. It works in its own awkward ways and each time it touches the living, it works out with a bitter stiffness and vigor, similar to an instrument being played in a way which it is not meant to be played like. Also suggesting the slight little difference between inference from instincts and intellect, both contradicting and yet so similar ideas. How beautiful it is to think of us humans as superhuman, unlike the popular belief of being normal, especially when we consider our ways of thinking, the way we think about instincts and dreams and things that are beyond us, of gods and spirituality. All too inconsistent for anything or anyone normal.
And in yet all of us have two presiding powers inside us, invariably different from each other, one of that which is naturally creative, beautiful and indecisive of its actions.
“Clearly the mind is always altering its focus, and bringing the world into different perspectives.” Said Virginia Wolf, a brilliant writer herself.
With this queer behaviour of the mind, why is it that it hosts two separate identities, distinctive as the sun and the moon. When I saw the moon and the sun for the first time, I did recognise their individual beauties and even yet I felt the absence of the other, their very subjectivity demanded the presence of the other, it had a feeling of satisfaction to it, I don’t know who’s satisfaction though. And I went on to write them in a story together, highlighting their individual beauty with their presence together gave me satisfaction. At some subtle moment they had turned out to be androgynous.