Mountain of light

What is with me these days? I used to keep complaining that I have so much to write and I don’t get time to write and now I have all this time in the world and I still don’t write. I still continue to have lots to write about but then I don’t get around to writing anything. Like I was telling someone yesterday that life is as simple or as complicated as you want it to be and if you make it simple then its difficult to construct verbose poems and prose around it. The more complicated it gets you can write tomes around it and that won’t be enough. So maybe I have been making a conscious effort to simplify my life. So when someone tells me that we are all perfectionists in our own way, I say no, either we are perfectionist or not and being perfectionist in our own way sounds like imperfection to me. So while I appreciate that everything around me is gray I make a conscious effort to see the black and white in them and base and slot them accordingly. What I can’t slot is not worth considering. How is that for simplicity?

Hand in hand with simplicity is also this immense amount of understanding. I have somehow begun to understand complex behaviors. I understand why people do whatever it is that they do. I have begun to understand why people are sometimes nasty and mean to me, why people behave the way they do. I may not agree with what they do and sometimes I am on the receiving end, but I understand. Sometimes I don’t want to understand, but I still understand.

So then why am I talking about it? I am talking about it because when everything gets simplified and I understand everything then what is there to reflect upon? How do I write about something or someone when I have already distilled it thru the simplification and understanding filters and there is usually nothing left out of it? This also enables me to live a charmed life. In theory I should not get angry with people because I simplify there seemingly complex actions and then I understand them. So lets say if someone goes out of their way to be nasty to me, I simplify that nastiness to wanting to be one up on me on his professional life and nastiness is just a way of putting me down. Then I understand this nastiness and say that maybe he is insecure, really needs the money or maybe I have wronged him knowingly or unknowingly. I might talk like God but I am certainly not one!

I guess now that I have reached this stage in my life, I might as well take to fiction if I want to continue writing. In my fictitious world I can make characters that are the most complicated beings that don’t understand anything and think that the world is made of black and white. People like them are white and everyone else is black. Or I can write really abstract stuff that can support atleast 10 interpretations if not more. Its like if I say ‘I am climbing higher’, I could be doing anything from climbing a mountain to doping or on my way to an orgasm. This is both simple and understandable.