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Don’t inflate Love. Let love exist. Suspire.

Published February 14, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

Laal Ishq – Arijit Singh

[Part 1]

As I write this seated on my chair, underneath a warm-lamp on the table which puku generously gifted; Adele’s ‘Make you feel my love’  loops over and over, gracing the entire room in every piano strokes and with every words sung.

I like it here!

Now, this thing I’m going to deduce for you is gravely unpopular. Perhaps disturbing too, especially if your sweet brain is serotonin stoned — by virtue of all these meaningless, well-orchestrated Valentine’s day holy gawd rituals.

So, I don’t recommend reading any further if you absolutely dislike my idea of ridiculing how our love has been commercially manipulated and sold to us.

Happy Valentine’s day my gigantic lovebirds!

.          .          .

Mum explains,”Valentine’s Day are for amateurs. Because, the real ones,… a true, deep and meaningful love requires all 365 days of everyday trust, support, understanding, care, and appreciation, and gratification and above all else the awe-wonderment despite few un-intended frictions; despite few wrong turns, despite every worst things that can happen; despite death.” On hindsight it looks more like a practically impossible vow to make as well as to keep at par but behold, it’s true. Isn’t it?

Which is why, I wouldn’t trade one particular day for the rest of the other days in my mortal calendar to make the love of my life feel really, really, really special. No!

F#%$, No!

Despite. Regardless, I’d like to practice open-mindedness.

Compulsively! Deliberately. Lovingly.

And, so, I really don’t despise this so-called love slash romance day-of-the-year for all good intents and purposes.

It’s just that I’m not much of a fan of St. Valentine’s death day.

[Part 2]

It’s time, we cut all the bs thrown around ‘love’ narrative.

Which unknowingly, I’ve been a source myself of many such pompous jargons, in many, different occasions around my journey with pen and papers.

.          .          .

It’s time, we love from the profundity of gentleness, and stop buying into these expensive forms of love-business abstractions;

It’s time we save our ‘love’ from being sold

over superfluous gifts and ephemeral pleasure gigs,

over hard-to-keep promises and esoteric vocabs,

over inorganic tales, talks and triumph stories

like Valentine’s itself.

Because,

at last, love is merely a language, a calling, an expression and the literature of souls.

And, to love truly and fiercely is to have a courage to sink in, pour out, befall and fall free,

without any brush of influence, expectations and artificial pressure

but merely, merely a WILL to give and share

every fabric of your being,

your whole Life Project in every smallest detail possible.

Tonight, give time. Save roses!

Share experiences. Be present here and now.

Celebrate togetherness. Rejoice mortality.

Don’t inflate love. Let love exist.

Suspire.

.          .          .

On an ending note: The great Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard although never married, anguished for years over the existential personal puzzle of love and marriage. To which, he transformed the question into a revolutionary book, Either-Or, published anonymously as Enten-Eller in 1943.

In the book he writes, “Marry, and you will regret it; don’t marry, you will also regret it; marry or don’t marry, you will regret it either way. Laugh at the world’s foolishness, you will regret it; weep over it, you will regret that too; laugh at the world’s foolishness or weep over it, you will regret both. Believe a woman, you will regret it; believe her not, you will also regret it… Hang yourself, you will regret it; do not hang yourself, and you will regret that too; hang yourself or don’t hang yourself, you’ll regret it either way; whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both. This, gentlemen, is the essence of all philosophy.”

Happy Valentines once again!

(Giggles)

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Let go

Published February 10, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

Leave to Love You More – VVE

To people I love,

I love you infinitely with all my heart and soul, and so my actions would speak for the words I’d rather not bespeak.

To people I deeply care about,

I’ll gleefully give my blood, sweat, and tears to ease your ways in every way I could.

To People who matter to me,

I’ll do anything in my full capacity to make you feel that you have a place, that you belong to my humble imperfect space.

 

And Dear rests,

you’re many of the let go (or soon to be dusted stories) I’ll never remember.

And don’t be mistaken, because, to explain the height of this mere precipice at best,

I’m stealing a line from David Foster Wallace’s novel Infinite Jest, which says,

“Everything I ever let go of has claw marks on it.”

And so, please don’t take my words amiss,

I tried my last bit, and,

I gave my last best

to keep you.

 

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Life line

Published February 8, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

Across the Sea – The Sweeplings

Love each other like your lungs loves a breathe of fresh air.

It’s how relationships ought to be,.. must be!

Because,

your breathe is your life line.

That’s it!

Everything’s that’s said on love, to me personally is like a sugar in the water.

p.s. a seed of wisdom — when it comes to making a deliberate choice about true love or true anything,
learn from Derek Sivers,

  “Hell Yeah! or no.” 

 

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Break Up

Published February 7, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

Be Alright – Dean Lewis

They promised to love each other forever,

which of course, in a long time, didn’t at all, endure the jerking-off of time and tides.

Long story short — He left her for another girl.

That full of $#!+, pathological liar.

 

He robbed her from bones to the thinnest of her skin,

and sucked all the winds away from her wings,

and black-holed all the lights dry, far faraway from her poor, heavy life,

suffocating,… killing her trust-ship wide-open, wide naked! Alive!

 

But, like all living wounds would heal someday,

like all sufferings would eventually sublimate one day.

She will too.

 

And it won’t be because of some vapid, woo-woo magic wand,

let alone one liner, cheaper than the table salt — wordporn shams.

It won’t be because of someone with a big mouth, full of sophisticated advices and pity craps;

It sure won’t be because of any rational poetry, or songs or gratitude ka-ta, et cetera.

 

She will.

She would’ve,

only,

and only,

purely,

b.e.c.a.u.s.e of her WILL.

Taking from US President Mr. Lincoln:  For herself. To herself. By herself.

 

p.s., break ups crack open the beauty in the devil. It’s true as gravity to say, break up seldom break you up.

 

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Love

Published February 2, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

Mia Wray – Where I stand

Let’s open a book.

It’s called love.

As any normal lives, I’ve also been through defining, deafening blows. Plenty, plateful of heartbreaks, heartaches, and many,.. many mercilessly chilling, shrinking, airless chest evenings.

Gasping. Tired. Done.Battered, broken, all t.e.a.r.e.d up, all to myself in pity corner of rooms you all wouldn’t know.

I’ve seen my people walked, … and some still going through rocky roads.

Happily depressed. Unwillingly masked.

Lost. Lonely.

Sold to lies. Cold.

Cold!

I’ve heard of monstrous stories from souls no different than my own — stories of being mocked, mopped, of being beaten, being ripped off by their owns. Cheated. Cruelly treated.

D.a.m.n.e.d by fate.

Belittled. Betrayed.

Now, as they say, meekness is not weakness.

And, as I navigate around the ocean of knowing and unknowing.

I wonder if am I qualified enough to speak for  love  !?

I wonder if I s.h.o.u.l.d question more about  l.o.v.e, 

love, of real kinds,

of the rare kinds !?

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Assiduity

Published January 31, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

Billie Eilish – lovely (with Khalid)

  Food for Brain.  

 

Oxford dictionary defines assiduity as,“Constant or close attention to what one is doing.”

Not very long ago, I learned of a wise American Investor by a name Charlie Munger from a lovely co-worker.

Charlie (a vice president of Berkshire Hathaway Inc.) once quoted ‘Assiduity’ which from my understanding he meant sitting on your arse, and think, and put on mountain of work around your time, and invest hours after hours of blood, sweat and tears into things you deeply care about.

Precisely, Charlie in his commencement speech at USC Law School in 2007 said,

“Another thing you have to do, of course, is to have a lot of assiduity. I like that word because it means: sit down on your ass until you do it,…”

Correspondingly, as I now navigate around my own body of experiences, it is fine to speak that I’ve written many rubbish forms of literature (or broadly speaking toiled over horse shit of fluid, volatile artifacts) in my life. However, in the same continuam, so have I also penned plenty that I am glad they did crystalize, and substantiate — that they did join forces or sneak peaked into this gigantic world of beautiful knowledge and infinite wisdom.

Well, regardless of what smell or scent they carried and left, or no matter how deep or shallow the imprint they imprinted; I wrote what came to me. When-in, both nature and nurture became my food and my feet.

I worked shamelessly, recklessly, lovingly, unpreparedly. Gracefully.

Assiduously. 

p.s. for a more simpler/ clearer perspective, assiduity can also be used alternatively with a pop-word the art of showing up.

And, finally, finally to wrap this whole thing,

I want to end with a quote from one of my favorite writer, Steven Pressfield: where he said,

“Put your ass where your heart wants to be.”

Cheers!

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Why, Stay Grounded?

Published January 24, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

When The End Comes – Andrew Belle (Hushed)

“Sometimes people are more certain of everything than i am of anything. ”
– Robert Rubin, In an uncertain world.

At a risk of being called a smarty-pant myself.

I dedicate this specially to cocksure boys and men.

Girls, women, I don’t mind though!

 

.        .       .

 

It’s okay to be crude, novice and of course somebody who’d happily sprinkle the spark of humility fragrance on every chance than turning up as a cold, know-it-all, bragging, bashing, blabbing jack a*s.

It’s okay to err, reflect, learn and move on in life than become an arrogant, stubborn, these heavy, always-so-right, paranoiac, complaining, yammering, hard to deal with di*k heads.

Again, there’s nothing wrong with being open, vulnerable and emotionally enriching than the ones who’re shallow-bold, self-righteous, self-acclaimed dumb-intellect, taxing bag of bones .

Moreover, here’s a compelling catch; not something totally out-of-this-world, not anything synonymous to voodoo, grandiose, crazy shit but overlooked for sure;

A must learn art of staying grounded!

 

.        .       .

 

 

In a world which celebrates, the world which breathes and breeds on uncertainty — your cockhead-ness is distressing and irrational;

In a world where everyone’s undoubtedly a hero of their own life story, the world where all human h.a.v.e a voice —  you strangle-holding anybody with your half fcuked philosophy is barbaric and unethical.

In a world where mistakes, failures and imperfections are wonderful gems, the fire and the flame to our natural existence — beating up your chest and announcing ‘I’m forever right! I’m perfect! ‘ is a nonsensical narcissism. It’s plainly disgraceful.

So, my friends, I present to you a free, premium word of wisdom,

also, a message to myself. For Life.

 

.        .       .

 

Practice silence amid the world around that can’t stop talking (borrowed that line from Susan Cain’s spellbinding creation, Quiet).

Listen.

Feel.

Self-question.

Empathize.

Listen some more,

and then perhaps call to action (only if need be).

p.s. Like my grandma says, frequent demeanor is a justified cue to make sense of the person’s terrain and the peaks,

thus, train and tame your demon (believe it or not but we all have one inside us), your yang.

Again, for better lack of words;

Stay grounded.

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You

Published January 17, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

A Message To Myself – Roo Panes

You.

You’re about courage.
You’re about growth.
You’re about love.

You’re about kindness.
You’re about a not-so-special DNA-ed humbleness.
More importantly, you’re about the work of art you paint over yourself, over and over again throughout your life; all too frequently changing; ever flowing and a never ending work in progress until one day your life’s finally finally over.

 

Heedless.
You’re not your dumb smartphone who’s been mocking at your stupidity for your urge to digest plastic emotions and pleasure it propounds verily.
You’re not one fucked aftermath of countless judgments, unsolicited advises, desperation for validations and approvals from paper people with tasteless ground.
You’re not these painstakingly filtered photographs of yourself, most of them shamelessly oblivious to the reality of stacks and stacks of boredom, inevitable despair and everyday struggle.
More importantly, you’re not a lost soul you think you are, lest you should be proud of your fight and blissful of your fleeting existence despite lingering death in the moment, in any moment.

 

Be mindful.
You’re these beautiful songs you listen to in a loop, the songs you hummmm… with all your heart,
You’re a living and a dying star my friend, who around life’s confined ebb is a wild, free boat.

Convulated. Confident. They will finger point your ass with as many nouns, verbs, adjectives…
You are probably anybody they want to see you to be.
But, your identity is a naked simple dear, you’re the sperm meeting the egg;
your worth — the words you weigh before you wear, before you speak,
your true worth — the fire you burn, the actions you make.

To the nutshell, and for one good last time,
scratch your own itch, you!
Ask, not who you are or who they think you are.
Ask, who you want to become.

p.s. Don’t forget, you are going to die.

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Dear 2018

Published January 6, 2019 By Bijay Shrestha

Aaj Jane Ki Zid Na Karo – Arijit Singh

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30W9txGVZXg

First, 2018 was a year of loss. We lost our brother, Pramod Shrestha.

2018 was a year of more letting gos’. A year made of tough choices to leave beautiful souls walk their own miles.

Of many people I’d never meet, of people who’d never want to see me, perhaps ever […]

But, it’s okay.

2018 was also a year of more unpublished, poorly drafted, incomplete, procrastinated articles, poems and essays.

These still decorate a large part of this blog’s ‘draft’ section and handful of unattended ‘Google Keep’ notes as well.

2018  — again, was a year of books, role models, mentors.

Read, listened, learned and duly enacted as many possible.

2018 was a year of unconditional, true found  love. 

Love unbeknownst. Love beckoned. Love befound.

 Late than never.

2018 was a year of many more new connections.

Of kindling old companionship, of creating meaningful soul-friendships with the few new.

2018 by far was an adventurous year. Dhampus, unplanned hikes, bike rides.

Of my first international flight to New-Delhi, of reviving childhood, childlike masti with my twin brother Bishow Shrestha.

Lastly, 2018 was a year of sadness,

of contentment, fulfillment and joy,

of scratching my own itch, of sharpening wisdom around body of words,

of sacred contemplation, continual reflection and perpetual self-refinement along the process.

And from where I see, 2018 wasn’t perfect,

no,

it was just phenomenally real — tethered with repetitive drudgery, ephemeral melancholy and

warm rejoice of daily living.

p.s. Dear 2018,

Thanks for passing-by, subtly,

one day at a time,

one breathe at a time.

 

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