Sunday, July 27, 2014


The white spaces in a painting

The dark of the star-lit sky

The nothingness that makes more beautiful

The music of life

Saturday, July 26, 2014


Breaking the ice of unfamiliarity
Like a river dancing with joy
It flows and meanders, bubbles and ebbs
To the calm of the sea of familiarity

That we pass by on a long drive
Through the unexplored terrain of minds
We're not sure where this could take us
But we're going along for the ride

On a journey with no destination
As purposeless as life itself
It goes on simply because it must
But we're going around in circles now

Twirling as if in a dance
Now a smooth waltz
playful cha-cha, a fiery salsa
A tango, if you please, of letters

Written on the pages of a book

Reluctant to tell its story
One that I cannot put down
I must know what happens next

In this game of words
With ever-changing rules
One that nobody wins; one that everyone does
And I must confess, I just can't get enough

This is an absolutely lovely quote from C. S. Lewis:

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which gave value to survival."

Monday, July 14, 2014

Who are you?

Who are you when you are alone?
When you are no longer pretending for others?

When you aren't what they want you to be
When you are more than they see?

Who lurks behind that mask you wear
Behind the veils, behind the walls?

Who is the man in the mirror
And what is he afraid of?

Thursday, July 10, 2014


What if real life is a dream?
And dreams real life?
How do I know which one is true?
How can I tell the lie?

Note: Offshoot of Life is but a dream.

Update: Found a far cooler and more thought-provoking version of the same sort of idea:

“I dreamed I was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then I awoke. Now I wonder: Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?” ~Chuang Tzu

Life is but a dream

All that which we see
What if it isn't real?
What if it's just an idea
A mirage, a grand illusion?

What if life is but a dream
And our dreams, a dream within a dream?
Maybe we're all just asleep
Making all this up in our minds.

What if minds are all that exist?
What if mine is all that exists?
Perhaps life is but a cosmic joke
Perhaps you are no more than an invention of my imagination.

Note: Inspired by Berkeley's theory of immaterialism. The name, of course, was borrowed from the poem "Row, row, row your boat".

Saturday, July 05, 2014

The Introvert

See the girl sitting there in a corner
All by herself reading a book?

She's the girl who you might find at a party,
Part of the crowd and yet apart, like she's there but not really.

She may be alone, but she isn't lonely
So don't pity her, she doesn't need it

She isn't unhappy, her happy is just quieter
Her joy comes from within, not without

She has friends, maybe not very many
But they are the only ones who truly know her

It isn't that she doesn't like people
She just prefers her own company

So if she doesn't want to talk sometimes,
Don't take it personally, it's just who she is.

Note: If you too are an introvert, you may also like this old post on the joys of solitude.

The Happy Philosopher

A friend of mine claims that a "happy philosopher" is an oxymoron. His contention is that only a person who is unhappy would be in search for answers to life, the universe and everything. That if you were satisfied, you wouldn't need these answers.

It makes sense I suppose. If you were truly satisfied, you really wouldn't need anything. You certainly wouldn't be analyzing life and its purpose.

I think the problem here is that we're confusing happiness with satisfaction, and these, to me, are very different things.

Happiness is a state of being, a mood, or even an outlook on life. Satisfaction, on the other hand, is the fulfillment of need. You could sate your hunger but not be happy. And you could be dissatisfied with your job without spiraling into depression.

To say that satisfaction is the only route to happiness would mean that an inventor who makes something, an athlete who works hard at improving his skills, a student trying to learn more about his chosen field of study, a traveler who wanders the world, even a person who goes shopping, are all miserable. After all, they must be dissatisfied with the way things are for why else would they feel a need to change anything?

In fact, the only people who are truly satisfied are the dead.

I don't believe thinkers are unhappy, they are simply people who are dissatisfied with the answers given to them and seek out something more. They are those who find joy in contemplation, whose curiosity leads them on a pursuit of knowledge like one possessed by love, for what is a philosopher but a lover of wisdom? They lose themselves in the vast universe of their minds and then laugh at the absurdity of life.

They may, in fact, be the happiest amongst us.