by Purbasha Roy
We gradually forge our greatest instrument for understanding the world,introspection. We discover that humanity may resemble us very considerably and that the best way of knowing the inwardness of our neighbors is to know ourselves.
Author – Walter Lippmann
As there isn’t proof of life on the other planets, I would concentrate on our very own blue planet. At any given moment, many languages are winged out of mouths in different dialects. Largeness of conversation happening in every part of the world gives our bodies a way of expression. Feelings, need to fetch words to open the correct door of our wants or necessities.
The question remains how much truly gets expressed pragmatically. The amount that breaths unspoken starts to shape our inwardness. This leads to accumulation of words reflecting the thoughts, with no lateral inversion. This in absence of an outlet either turns to a dormant seed or slowly germinates. Mute. This is the bedrock for evolution or for slow fossilization. Maybe poisonous or something spiritual.
The thing about inwardness is everything is tangible about it, and so abstract at the very next moment. I wonder if there is any mind that speaks to its end what it weaves. I haven’t practiced it. Let me give an example. When I thirsted for water in junior classes, I couldn’t dare to ask my short-tempered math teacher if I could drink water. This made a bad image of her in my mind. Now, when years have passed I think I should have tried asking her in a polite manner. My inwardness in those days was not something positive.
All the moments we live and interpret more the world that surrounds us and forget repeating for ourselves. For example : How many times we scale our own behaviors for others before we do the opposite.
This space translates the absence of language sometimes into a tornado that crashes upon a highway. Finally, to become a story that has no takers. Or become a garden of dreams beyond the immediate society to live in a sentence that has its end in its beginning.
If queried about mine. My inwardness lies between the above pair of scenarios. Given what the situation is. The words that ricochet within the larynx are sometimes the songs that entered inside me in a time I opened up for them. They stayed as if in symbiosis. In the low hum of petromax I feed the songs my attention. They in gratitude pour their tunes in my head as I lay morose or I am about to step into the wicked land of numbness.
On other times my inner spaces are working upon theorems of ablution. The shapes of littleness I believe I wake up on moments someone retaliates to my notions or finds faults with me or my endeavors. Like a woodland trying to keep its greenness intact. The alternative opinions I often have about the world but keep them to myself is the soul of inwardness. Like my memory of my math teacher
The difference between void and inwardness is that void needs to be created inside a sense that’s almost sad. Or has hunger for something whose shapes are not known by someone feeling it. Whereas inwardness is like a city whose formation started from the time we aren’t completely aware of who we are. Remember as a young child, mumbling alone in pain. We craved attention or for the fulfillment of a wish. When not gotten our anger sometimes subdued to a silence or our behaviors turned to something not acceptable. We didn’t understand righteousness then. There’s where parenting becomes a challenge.
The extensions of something real breaks into an illusion cradling more the real of us, that’s known to none but us.