The thing about old toys and humans is that you have to let them go when the time comes. Not because they have worn out, not because you stop loving them, but because you have to grow up.
I like being a child. I can be a child forever. It’s like being a child gives you this advantage of commiting a mistake under the name of experience. You are learning and so you will commit a mistake and that is all right until you feel guilty and improvise. But being an adult is like aiming for perfection. You cannot afford to commit a mistake. Being adult is like being on a full time probation. You are always being watched over. Your karma is all set to ruin you once you do something wrong. I know that karma works otherwise as well, even when we are young. But the damage done in adulthood feels irrepairable. It’s like you feel too much pain and there is no remedy that can heal you. There is this part of being mature, we tend to understand things better. We understand our feelings better, the bad ones too.
When you are a kid, crying is a way of getting things done. You cry and you get what you want because no one wants to see you getting hurt. No one wants you to suffer. They want you believe that you will get whatever you yearn for, that nothing is impossible to get. They lie. They teach us to live in denial. And right after reality hit us, we realise that we don’t get everything we want. We cannot have what we cry for. Infact that is why we cry for the most because we realise we don’t have the kind of control over life that we once anticipated.
This transition from childhood to adulthood is like going through a black hole. Your old self disappears without a trace and you keep searching for it endlessly. It’s an entire different universe. You cannot survive in it unless you unlearn. Unlearn things that contradicts with this universe.
It takes power to absorb reality. Power lies in control, and the only control we can have is on our self.
Self control makes us the master of our life. But that is only the partial truth. Because if there is a master, there is a slave. And if we are the master then we must not forget it makes us the slave as well. Slaves to self-pity. Pity of not being able to control ourselves and our life. Perhaps why we feel so powerless sometimes, when our slave-self takes over the master. We become slaves to our own world of control and power. And it’s all too dark. Just like the black hole.
Let us not pity ourselves. Let us not become slaves to our self pity.