The law of conservation of energy:
Energy cannot be created, nor destroyed, it just changes form
The law of inertia:
Any physical object is resistant to change in its state of motion
Where does it go? Where did it come from? To whom does it belong, this warm amber ripple down the throat up the arms over the shoulder down the back around the ribs to the sternum again. This energy arising and subsiding, surfacing and plunging, never gone but never really born to begin with either, always moving always wanting.
It is tucked inside small boxes and snuggled between pages in the darndest places. They are perched on little shelves and hanging from walls in simple frames. Reminders of the heart,reminders of days gone by, some spreading joy, some sending darts of sadness up into the veins on discovery. It is the ones tucked away in piles and under box lids that get me the most and I wonder why I’ve kept them. Why do any of us keep the things that remind us of some one we love and guard it with all our life, and weep and have a panic attack when we lose that one thing, even if it be a minor 30 rupee ring? Because it is always about love, isn’t it?
So how does one actually consummate love with respect to Newton's most revered theories? Quite a paradox, if you see it my way.Love is strength, Strength is Energy.Energy is neither created nor destroyed,but changes form. But love can be created and destroyed...though the latter half (the changing form bit) does remain the conclusive logical bit of his statement
Therefore by logic, Newton was partially wrong.
Similarly,any physical object is resistant to change in its state of motion.Take my condition! I was resistant to change, in the most vehement of all manners.But,I was moved from my state of constancy to break out and move out of my comfort zone, and move to Mumbai, just to meet her. Her energy modified by otherwise somnolent,ambivalent state into one of pure flux.
Bully for Newton again!
So, technically, Newton was wrong! Right?!? Nobel, here i come!
The thing is....right now,I realised that it was just pent up and stored. I realised that when I was preparing to move from my "little boy" room to my small little apartment to start living up my single independent life.Every little single fibre of my body was moaning to stay in my inertial state , defiant to move from a cocoon that had guarded me till date.In the sorting and the packing, I’ve begun (as I do every time I move or do a deep spring clean and purge) to uncover forgotten receipts,notes,photos and ticket stubs – all the little things that bring back images of hands held tight and breath exchanged at close range and eyes murky with the leaving.
Just yesterday I picked up a little stack of Mumbai local train stub tickets I’d once used with her, and found myself welling up.To me,they silently express love.Of those little moments, ranging from the very first hug at a smoky,heat caked,sweat incensed LTT to leaving in a yellow taxi cab back home, I realised that in my packing, I d collected trivial albeit significant things that remind me to date, of the most precious thing i left behind.
I could hypothesize that it is to remember love (as if it were actually forgettable) or that we are simply masochistic when it comes to our heart-based decisons. Or that over time, these things really do shed from themselves the heartache and so the keep will some day only be a reminder of the joys. Someday. Someday is very rare, though, and I think it must be the little jolt to the heart that we want in the looking, the finding, the holding of these things. A reminder not only of the time, but of our fragile humanity, of the fragility of every situation, every hope, every love. Somewhere inside that jolt of fragility, there lives a lesson, a nice, simply Buddhist lesson. Perhaps two. Everything changes. Suffering for a moment is simply a part of all we do and have. The larger picture on the fabric,ultimately,always reveals a more wonderful sight.
So, while I am waiting for the lessons to permeate my skin fully over the years, I just keep tucking the little reminders away again for another discovery. I say a little prayer that the next time I uncover them, it will be less painful, less jarring, provide less of a stumble. And that the human on the other side of the memory will have less pain from the memory, too. That the love moments encapsulated in the the small pieces of paper and ornamental objects will appear as what they were and truly are, moments of beauty.I do realise that the energy we had created had manifested into those little bits of trivium that makes us go ballistic!
Therefore,Any physical object is resistant to change in its state of motion until someone comes along and changes their course forever. Ultimately, in those little things we do indeed learn that, Energy cannot be created, nor destroyed, it just changes form! :)
Energy cannot be created, nor destroyed, it just changes form
The law of inertia:
Any physical object is resistant to change in its state of motion
Where does it go? Where did it come from? To whom does it belong, this warm amber ripple down the throat up the arms over the shoulder down the back around the ribs to the sternum again. This energy arising and subsiding, surfacing and plunging, never gone but never really born to begin with either, always moving always wanting.
It is tucked inside small boxes and snuggled between pages in the darndest places. They are perched on little shelves and hanging from walls in simple frames. Reminders of the heart,reminders of days gone by, some spreading joy, some sending darts of sadness up into the veins on discovery. It is the ones tucked away in piles and under box lids that get me the most and I wonder why I’ve kept them. Why do any of us keep the things that remind us of some one we love and guard it with all our life, and weep and have a panic attack when we lose that one thing, even if it be a minor 30 rupee ring? Because it is always about love, isn’t it?
So how does one actually consummate love with respect to Newton's most revered theories? Quite a paradox, if you see it my way.Love is strength, Strength is Energy.Energy is neither created nor destroyed,but changes form. But love can be created and destroyed...though the latter half (the changing form bit) does remain the conclusive logical bit of his statement
Therefore by logic, Newton was partially wrong.
Similarly,any physical object is resistant to change in its state of motion.Take my condition! I was resistant to change, in the most vehement of all manners.But,I was moved from my state of constancy to break out and move out of my comfort zone, and move to Mumbai, just to meet her. Her energy modified by otherwise somnolent,ambivalent state into one of pure flux.
Bully for Newton again!
So, technically, Newton was wrong! Right?!? Nobel, here i come!
The thing is....right now,I realised that it was just pent up and stored. I realised that when I was preparing to move from my "little boy" room to my small little apartment to start living up my single independent life.Every little single fibre of my body was moaning to stay in my inertial state , defiant to move from a cocoon that had guarded me till date.In the sorting and the packing, I’ve begun (as I do every time I move or do a deep spring clean and purge) to uncover forgotten receipts,notes,photos and ticket stubs – all the little things that bring back images of hands held tight and breath exchanged at close range and eyes murky with the leaving.
Just yesterday I picked up a little stack of Mumbai local train stub tickets I’d once used with her, and found myself welling up.To me,they silently express love.Of those little moments, ranging from the very first hug at a smoky,heat caked,sweat incensed LTT to leaving in a yellow taxi cab back home, I realised that in my packing, I d collected trivial albeit significant things that remind me to date, of the most precious thing i left behind.
I could hypothesize that it is to remember love (as if it were actually forgettable) or that we are simply masochistic when it comes to our heart-based decisons. Or that over time, these things really do shed from themselves the heartache and so the keep will some day only be a reminder of the joys. Someday. Someday is very rare, though, and I think it must be the little jolt to the heart that we want in the looking, the finding, the holding of these things. A reminder not only of the time, but of our fragile humanity, of the fragility of every situation, every hope, every love. Somewhere inside that jolt of fragility, there lives a lesson, a nice, simply Buddhist lesson. Perhaps two. Everything changes. Suffering for a moment is simply a part of all we do and have. The larger picture on the fabric,ultimately,always reveals a more wonderful sight.
So, while I am waiting for the lessons to permeate my skin fully over the years, I just keep tucking the little reminders away again for another discovery. I say a little prayer that the next time I uncover them, it will be less painful, less jarring, provide less of a stumble. And that the human on the other side of the memory will have less pain from the memory, too. That the love moments encapsulated in the the small pieces of paper and ornamental objects will appear as what they were and truly are, moments of beauty.I do realise that the energy we had created had manifested into those little bits of trivium that makes us go ballistic!
Therefore,Any physical object is resistant to change in its state of motion until someone comes along and changes their course forever. Ultimately, in those little things we do indeed learn that, Energy cannot be created, nor destroyed, it just changes form! :)
