BlogMas 2018 Day Seventeen - Daft

All of us have a compulsive need to make a handful of things categorically perfect. If it's not, it sets off a trigger. There are also some of us who are brilliantly oblivious to it. There are also some of us with the neurotic need to frame everything like a picture within a box, the folds of which were urgently erected by our minds' obscure need for anything to look like something. 

Madness is intriguing. Obsession, even more so. Maddening levels of obsession, out of the world. And I don't mean that in a way that demeans the adeptness of idée fixe. And I feel the greatest thing we can do for our brains is arrange our lives around us, the way it likes it - to keep it at peace, if not happy, to say the least. Because it's stunning, to give a portion of your life to making anything so perfect, it demands to beheld. For when we really reach that point, be it with anything - work, or sitting, or walking, or talking or even the tilt of the last book on the shelf - you fortuitously forget everything else. It's just as important as understanding any other side of yourself. To really separate your mind from the stratosphere of the ordinary and really get a whiff of what authentic air feels like. It's freezing and deathly. And that's why it's veritably vital to know where to draw the line. Unless you want to be a stalker or a serial killer. (Joke)

Sudarshan refers to this as 'It'. We all have an 'it'. For some of us, it means throwing papers as a caution to the wind after a long day and really losing yourself to whichever emotion washes over you. Or how every wire of your every gadget is wrapped, or what angle your screen is situated in. Or singing Daler Mehndi at the top of your voice in studio full of people the minute the clocks ticks four (Mythili knows better). 
All of us need some time in a day to connect with 'it'. Some time to withdraw from the ordinary, to be confronted by our very selective madness. To really be vexed with the thought of never having an 'it'. It's better to be absolutely deranged once in a while than to never really know all the idiocies your mind is capable of doctoring.

Until then.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.
A.