FMS#362 || Faridabad-NCR || August 2018
Something’s brewing in my WhatsApp.
Brewing?
Friends write as well as forward lots. They bring many kinds of discernment, intelligence, tenors, reflections, idiocies, and rationalities into my day.
And then you forward them on!
Not everything. I mull over some, save some for later, forward some to close ones, and some to groups.
So listen to one forwarded to me. Though I must say, I get way too many “Good Morning” messages and fruits and flowers.
Ha! Maybe you have the rating of some god and those are offerings!
Maybe. It’s a bit facile. But listen to this message:
Time of life. Time for work. Time of employment. Earth time. Production time. Family time. Lifetime. All these are not irreconcilable. They are uneven.
Uneven? What?!
Don’t mind. Don’t mind. Let him speak. Get into the groove.
Now I see what a forward I got the other day meant. It said:
This isn’t the time for criticism. It is the time to describe anew.
Exactly! I thought we were on the brink of a new description here, which is why, don’t interrupt!
Carry on then.
When I’m by myself, my thoughts circle around my family. What has happened, what is about to happened, what might happen, what I might have missed, what will come next, and so on. My mind drafts different kinds of pictures.
What do you do to break out from this vortex?
That happens when I meet someone else. Some topic jumps at us, and other worlds take over. In a flash the time of the family and the time of the world tremble together.
Tremble? In fear? Or do you mean something else?
No no. Think of the coolness of dawn. Call it a pulse. A quiver. When two flows come close to one another, collide, melt into one another, then a different form emerges. It is neither family, nor world.
Let me. I received a message:
Everything runs on our money, on our hard word. And those who rule over us know this.
I wrote back that everyone knows this, but it remains as a public secret.
Well said.
Wait. Listen to the reply:
It was a public secret. Not any more. No one thinks any longer that power is the be all and end all. No one is waiting for anyone else to do things for them.
This reminds of a message. Let me find it. Oh, here:
Some work so they can eat. Some ask that they be fed. Some loot and eat. Those who loot sermonise. Those who live by hard work keep to themselves. Those who ask stare into eyes.
They announce themselves as honest. They’ve got some license to loot. They don’t even know the definition of ‘worker’. Are we a football? We don’t go begging. We were born to end labour. Petitions and prayers won’t end labour.
That was one storm. Who was that?
Storm-time!
Yeah, this quality of time cannot be tied down, fettered. It stays invisible. But when it appears, it unseats many entrenched ideas.
This storm-time seems connected to the subterranean. Always flowing. It stays out of sight. Eruptions such as these give us a sense of the force that is brewing.
It seems to me this storm-time is in everyone around me. It erupts and ebbs. It’s frequent now.
You think the subterranean brewing is palpable today?
I cannot prove it; I can certainly sense it. I agree with you, a new description is definitely needed.
Fms August 2018 by baatein1 on Scribd
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