I have been struggling for words to speak to you. You were silent; like a rock. I have been having a monologue for some time. I heard a voice from somewhere, from not very far for sure.
You spoke; probably. Did you, my little mountain? Tell me, was it your hum? Or is it the echo of my own voice that returned hitting you? Or do I suffer the desperations of a dialogue? Did you whisper this idea into me? The hum of loneliness is unbearable now.
Or my deliberation on the myth of Sisyphus made you to stir? I am your Sisyphus, my little mountain. And the giant boulder of burden is mine that you relentlessly refuse to hold. But see, I am blessed or cursed not to stop. And the Leviathan act of carrying it up your curves and slopes is my fate for eternity.
Now I will tell you my dangers too. The moment you accept to hold the burden of me on your chest and the burden of mine on your crest I shall be free of the responsibility of life; immediately. Life will be strangely light without duty, without accountability, without purpose, without concern, without direction, without desperation, without meaning. Thereby life will seem barren, bereft of essence, dried of nectar. Life without hope will become a fruit without juice.
This lightness of life will undermine love, love for fellow beings, it will devalue spontaneity, thaw inspiration, dampen the spirit of creation, invention and discovery, it will freeze awe and admiration of knowledge of nature and the universe. Life will be empty, dry, apathetic.
It’s so unbearable!
Also Read: Monologue 2: Of Human Bondage
Also Read: Monologue 3: Into The Heart Of Darkness
Life is never a random sequence of coincidences nor is it the probability count of permutations and combinations. Life isn’t a game of dice. Rather an extreme lightness of being is unbearable, unrealistic.
Life is a systematic quantum relatedness of eternal recurrence propelled by the universal laws of cause and effect, of calculated formulations of behaviour and experience.
Also Read: Monologue 4: The Myth Of Sisyphus
There isn’t a thing called absolute absence of burden as long as we are talking of the human race and the inherent relatedness of its beings bound by structured ethereal and ephemeral strings of emotions, feelings, desires, stimulus, behaviour, responses, thoughts, reflections, introspections, retrospections, regrets, reproaches, rebellions, realisations, adaptations, acclimatisation, evolution and civilisation.
Hence, come, let’s keep talking and keep sharing, that life’s burden not crush us under its weight; nor its lightness be unbearable thereby making it meaningless and make it to evaporate. Let me be your river and you my little mountain from where I spring and on whose contours I flow relentlessly ultimately sipping into your pores and to be reborn from you in eternal recurrence.
My little mountain you allowed me to do a straight talk in a monologue. Now we are almost touching the best part of each other’s heart.
(This is the fifth part of the series titled Monologue)
Also Read: Monologue 1: Things Fall Apart
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