Suffering – The Swinging Existence

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Suffering to me is not limited to any specific loss or obstacle. It is an overall state of being that makes one live in a restricted and restless way.

It is a tussle between desperation and desire. A constant involuntary swinging of the impatient self to get things fast, and insecurely hold on to them.

There are countless memories of loss and different kinds of obstacles one faces in life. I feel citing just a few of them would be a futile task. For suffering is an overall perspective that we build over time, about ourselves, others, and life, and the overall feelings we live with, on a daily basis.

To some extent it is a pertinent need to suffer as mortals, because inherently one associates oneself with duality. One cant understand pleasure without pain, happiness without sadness, or gain without loss. This dwindling between the dualities keeps one alive like a pendulum, swinging non-stop towards the two extremes.

The spectrum of life is black and white, of different intensities. Each one of us has their our own palette that one uses to paint one’s life. One needs to choose the right shades as per the situations.

A short poem explaining this feeling all mortals go through.

The swinging existence

One keeps oscillating between the extremities of emotions. Reaching a stable state of tranquility is a matter of chance. One just passes through it, and again keeps swinging like a pendulum bob, only to die out as one’s energies deplete with time.

The mortal is like,

A swinging bob,

Of this existential pendulum,

Rising to a height,

Of extreme boisterity,

Like a tempest swirl inside,

And an enraged fiery outside,

Both uncontrollable and destructive.

Then,

It goes back,

To its equilibrium,

A place of tranquil bliss.

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Only to rise again after moments,

To a position of intense glee,

Like a pristine summer lake,

Where grows in abundance,

The foliage but not for long,

As it loses its strength,

With no anchor to bank upon.

The stable point,

Is fleeting for him,

Which he lives truly,

For a duration long enough,

When life energy extinguishes,

Of moving between,

These extremities of emotions,

Finally,

Spiralling down with every swing,

To the point of final placidity,

Rarely reached when alive.