Spirituality in Fiction

Ever since we know, all sorts of knowledge are imparted to people through books. Stories are like news sources of the past, delivered through heroic romances, epic poems, and music added with flights of fancy and, at times, profound conclusions to otherwise unresolved circumstances.

Stories gave us the possibilities that became our maps by which we navigate—from understanding the powerful earthly elements, through developments of impulses we now look upon religion, all through our awakening to the actual nature of reality.

This is quite coherent as well as noticeable as everything we know today about spirituality or mythology is through the form of stories and books.

Fiction is the type of book or story that is written about imaginary characters and events. Whereas, spirituality, on the other hand, is the quality that involves deep feelings and beliefs of a religious nature, rather than the physical parts of life.
So what’s better than to explain and convey spirituality through fiction?

But authors often tend to mix it, making it a hybrid of both. A huge example of it can be the Shiva Trilogy written by Amish Tripathi. He took the base of Hindu religion to carve it in a story form, with the lead as Lord Shiva. His book is completely fictional but the way he used the base of mythology and spirituality is quite intriguing. So for people with zero knowledge of the life of Lord Shiva who read this book, they will tend to mix up things as they won’t know what part of it is true and what part is the author’s imagination. And thus our mythology somewhere gets altered or misinterpreted. Same is the case with spirituality, it is a vast topic that can’t be passed on as a whole, one needs to understand and realize it himself to know the true meaning of it.

Many ancient stories point to myths as clues to our deepest spiritual potential.
When we convey something in the form of story or fiction, our level of understanding and interpretation of the topic is conveyed further. Thus passing through all those filters of people’s minds and what they understand, the actual message gets reformed and the reader gets access to just that altered version of the topic. But if we look at it, that’s quite justified. We can’t possibly convey the entire knowledge of spirituality through books and manuscripts. It is upon the person to self discover and get enlightened by the limited knowledge he’s provided with because the process of that self-enlightenment is what helps us attain the ultimate spiritual awareness and self-conscious of information and knowledge and helps us rise above this materialistic world, above this human form and attain the infinite energy to become a part of nature itself.

One example that can explain this relation to spirituality could be the great mythology of Mahabharata. Mythology is woven throughout human intuition, evolution, and aspiration; a collection of myths or stories presented to people to explain spirituality. The story of Mahabharat is portrayed by several tv-series, movies, and actors that show the life of the characters which indeed hold a very meaningful moral, a spiritual message to convey, which can be interpreted in several different ways by the audience. Just like when Arjun was in a dilemma at the start for the war, as he had to fight against his own brothers, but for the kingdom which was rightfully theirs. Krishna recited him the Geeta which tells us about the true meaning of spirituality. In the writer’s terms, they enlighten us while they entertain us.

In other forms of literature, there are many evident examples such as Katherine Mansfield, a New Zealand-born author who neared death from tuberculosis during 1922 in the Fontainebleau chateau of G. J. Gurdjieff. She probed into the heart of the writer’s highest objective:
“Suppose,” she used to say, “that I could succeed in writing as well as Shakespeare. It would be lovely, but what then? There is something wanting in literary art even at its highest. Literature is not enough.
“The greatest literature”, she said, “is still only mere literature if it has not a purpose commensurate with its art. The presence or absence of purpose distinguishes literature from mere literature, and the elevation of the purpose distinguishes literature within the literature.”

It is important to keep in mind that life, spirituality, and literature are all multi-level. We have to realize the personal advancement in our lives, whether professionally, philosophically, or otherwise, to understand this.

How can spiritual wisdom become intense and real for us? One way is through some of the finest fiction that relates to us because of its deep expression of who we are and about what’s really important. Great authors lift readers up away from common themes into the consciousness of our interconnectedness, enlarging upon human potential, and sometimes—through the written word—going beyond what words can express.

Happiness

“I fell asleep and dreamed that life was only Happiness.
I woke and discovered that life was Duty.
I did my Duty and discovered that life was Happiness.” 

                                                       – Paulo Coelho.

Have you ever noticed that in life’s most significant moments we are always alone?            Think about a happy memory, what do you see? We see ourselves looking at us from a third-person point of view as if we are not there in a physical form but just our soul looking around and probably experiencing an epiphany.

In the past few days, I have come across situations where I have seen people depend upon others to make them happy and to be honest, I too depend on people up to a certain level, coz attaining that level where u are not dependant on anyone to for your happiness is a big achievement in itself and not so surprisingly, many people fail to attain this level in their entire life, without even noticing it.

Depending upon and giving/allowing someone to make us happy has a huge difference between them.                                                                                                                                        I would like to quote Will Smith here, he once tweeted, “Her happiness is not my responsibility. When we come together and share our happiness. Giving someone a responsibility to make you happy when you can’t do it for yourself is selfish”.    That’s so right ain’t it? But at the same time, isn’t it also true that allowing someone else to make us happy, makes them happy too? That’s the thing most people fail to understand, the difference between that dependency and allowance.

And of course, there comes the point where we should stop expecting. Expecting things from others (most of the time) leads to disappointment which then leads to misunderstandings coz we as humans have this amazing tendency to assume things, whereas the person on the other side doesn’t have any idea about it! Isn’t it funny that we have a language to communicate our feelings but still we often fail to do so and all that is left is a misunderstanding?

You see I can go on and on about this topic and probably bore you up, so I’ll just end it here saying that, we are always so messed up in our thoughts that we fail to see others point of view towards a certain thing, try seeing it their way, you’ll probably find it quite intriguing (also sometimes realize that maybe you were probably over-thinking/ overreacting). Have a big heart and forgive and forget.

 

Back To Normal

Today when I woke up, for a moment I had forgotten about everything, you know like the times you sleep so deep that you forget everything and when you wake up you have no idea what time or place you’re in, and then slowly it all comes back to us as we remember everything… and just like that, I had forgotten everything, and for that second or two the world for me, was normal. A world without any COVID-19, where we weren’t quarantined, where we could go out like any other normal day. Where my boyfriend wasn’t stuck in another country… where all this would have been for naught.

But was that really the definition of normal? Was the life we lived before this epidemic “normal”? What is “normal”? “ordinary”? “regular”? we don’t know! Well to go by definition, Normal is “conforming to a standard”, (and who sets this “standard”? The society?). For me normal is nothing but being yourself, not conforming to what the society wants or expects… I’d rather call it a perspective, a perspective to see things the way they are coz what’s normal for you might just be a luxury for others, which indeed tells a lot about one’s self. Normal is an illusion…what’s normal for a spider is chaos for a fly.
Have you ever had this anxiety where you are so anxious and pressured to be or do something so as to validate one’s opinion? But you don’t need to conform to society’s definition to live by our own terms; I would rather suggest you look at it this way- Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom.
We fear the anxiety of being unable to enact this freedom of just being ourselves. And resort to social norms of being “normal”. But we forget the fact that our very own opinions shape our surroundings in return. Nowadays, in this society, nobody is born normal but deemed to be. Deemed by what one believes and values. For example, I feel that the education system of India is making amends to ultimately benefit all children but on the other hand also hindering particular pupils of our society who might not fit in. You might think otherwise. This difference opens room for improvement. Improvement of how ‘normal’ should be tailor-made for everyone and not everyone as a whole.
But was life before all that really normal? All the cases of crime and daily issues..was it all just a routine for us? Have we got so used to it that all this stuff is now regular for us? Was that the life which we lived before how we wanted it? Was it the way our freedom works? Was not being able to roam safely at night a part of our normal life? A part of our freedom? We face numerous problems and we go forward with it, at times facing it and solving it or at times just getting habitual to it, making common ground with it; but this doesn’t stop new problems from arising, they’ll keep coming no matter what, it’s us who needs to find a way through them. These are the days we dreamt to live are we living it to the fullest?
With the rise in freedom of speech and re promotion of liberty, communities have sought out the need to express themselves. These people have not only defined their perspective about something but have also laid the want to not have a perspective at all. Free thought has since opened opportunities. Opportunities for normality that were earlier limited by social norms.
It is interesting to see how we as humans adapt to change, to form a new normal. With COVID19 amongst us, we are accustomed to touring different parts of our houses. That’s normal now, I guess. Global economies are struggling but we won’t even think twice before changing back to the old normal. Because no matter what our current normal is, life won’t stop for it. And money won’t earn itself. This brings me to some objects of normality that never undergo change – Time, money, and life itself. The man never let go of these factors while attaining his goals of normality. All his achievements were always based around saving time or earning money. Because either of the two never changed. In this chaos, however, life was left behind. Left behind to blame.

It’s Gonna Take A Lotta Love…

Dear P,

We are the definition of destiny. We have a history, and we will have a future; unquestionably.

All these stories, the undone possibilities and the slight whistle of rushing winds with the messages of our union, has made me fall more in love with you. This slight shiver that runs in my body, only because you have been mentioned.

I dream of the day we dance together at a party with our fellows… it’ll be surreal. As if, that is the only reason I am born. To be in your arms. To sway on a love song in the light mist of the morning and under the surreal twinkling of diamonds in the sky. Ours is an affair of worlds, separated by distance. Worlds that differ in ways more than the petty probability can define.

I have noticed your eyes on me innumerable times. I will be kidding if I say that it is not the best feeling ever.

I do not underestimate the powers of the universe, and thus, I know that our hands are destined to be held together.

When we go into this infinitely long and confusing dimension of time, I will always be there for you. I will be there as a ghost, and remind you of times that will be cherished forever. And in the end, no matter how much it takes us to unite, no matter who comes in our life, I will always love you the way the sun loves the space, in the way the sky loves the stars. Ours will be a love story to stay.

An eternal example.

Yours, S.

#266 Long Distance Relationships by 365-DaysOfDoodles on deviantART

The Fault In Our Stars Epilogue

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I’m not entirely here, half of me has disappeared.

I don’t know what’s it with me, or what am I doing here but this feels good. I like who I’m becoming a lot.

As I walk down this shore … Waves washing my feet, going back, and coming forth… It’s like they are calling me. But I’m good here. I like it here. Thing is, the cure for anything is saltwater … Sweat, tears, or the sea.

There’s no one around, at least none I can see … as if I am all alone in this world. Alone. Yeah, I know that feeling. I guess I’m used to it by now. Hated it at first, but now it’s like we made a common ground.

I lost a lot in the last couple of weeks. But the things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect. And I keep expecting that he does too. That he somehow comes back to me. But who am I kidding? No, he won’t, he can’t!… Maybe I’ll have to find my way to him, which I know I will eventually and that it’s just a matter of time until I see him again.

He had magic in his eyes, even the stars envied. It pains thinking about him, pains not having him to talk with. But who am I living in the middle of history to complain? Pain just demands to be felt. And I’m liking it now. This pain, it’s the only thing convincing me that I’m real. It’s like a hauntingly beautiful song.

I look down at my feet as I walk … My nails painted this black dark blue … The least impressive thing I can be right now is pretty.

People say I’m depressed … well, not people, I barely know a few! My doctor says so and so does my mom … and my dad, but I don’t think so. I’m happy actually, I’m happy he left. I’m happy he didn’t have to see me go first. Though I wanted more days for us, I’m not complaining about the ones we got. I’m thankful.

So … I walk alone, to this place I know no more. I don’t want a perfect life, just a life with beautiful flaws. And I got my wish I suppose.

I’m thankful.

I’m writing this because there are people around me and I want to seem busy. Well, I’m the only one here without a friend or shld i say the only girl in a class of 16 other boys whom I barely know. I don’t knw what’s it about me but this is just the way I am.. I can’t just start conversation with random people.. I’m bad at small talks.

But this is helping you know, here I am sitting in the corner of the front row (personally i don’t like front benches but I’ve got no choice today) alone with this notebook open in front and wishing I brought a novel with me. But now that I’m all alone, screw this I don’t care anymore. All I can think of is him..

But no, don’t worry I won’t start talking about him now.. Not here! Personally, I try to avoid writing about him because I’m somewhere scared I might not be able to construct him on paper, scared that I might fall short and be unjust to his image. He is so high in my opinion that I don’t want to bring him down to these words I write. And also because I know I’m not capable enough to form him or even a image of him on this paper. It scares me even to think about fitting all of him on a single page, no that’s not possible.

The thing is, i can go on writing, on and on until I no longer can. It maybe until my fingers give up but still I won’t be able to bring him to life on this small paper.

Love, you are so much more than I could ever write (or anyone could!) and that’s the reason I’m scared writing about you, and I avoid to do so. Angels aren’t made for the Earth.

And here I am, still talking about him when I decided not to! I wonder if these people around me would ever be as lucky to experience what I have. Cause here I am, sitting in the corner of the room, smiling at the phone typing something while everyone else is busy talking and screaming and running around. But I’m happy, i’d rather be here than on the other side of this. And I’m thankful.

Here’s to problems..

I met a friend of mine today after almost 2 months or so. We talked about stuff and soon she started telling me how she was having problems and how much she wished she wasn’t as unlucky as she was. She told me about everything and I listened, I helped her understand and told her I was there for her but she said, “You’ll never understand, you are just so lucky you got all of it sorted out. If you were me, you’d know.”

And that made me..pity her. The thing is, everyone’s got their own problems. Problems that they can face and move on with. You might have heard, “You don’t get a problem unless you are capable enough to face it and eventually solve it.”

So look, I’m not one of those people who like to discuss thier problems (big or small) with others. Nor like the ones who somehow feel good by showing how their problems are in some way bigger than the ones others are facing. I guess they feel stronger about themselves by making people think so, but whatever it is, if it’s helping you, then why not. But as for me, I won’t suggest that.

So why am I writing this here? Because to all the people who will eventually read this, don’t give in to your problems. Look, I’m not any motivational speaker or something and that’s not what I’m here to do. But my boyfriend once told me that whenever you face a problem, just say to yourself or maybe just keep in mind that this is not the worst and it’s not the end (now take it as you wish, but I took it in a good way cause that’s how he meant it). Because if you get ahead with this (which you will eventually, that’s just a matter of time) it means that you are capable enough and sooner or later you’ll have another one. Remember, we create our own problems. So that makes us the ones to destroy them, being their creators.

There was a time when I had lost faith in people, cause the ones I knew dearly weren’t who they were pretending to be. I had fake people showing fake love to me. Now many of you might not know what I’m taking about where as one of you knows exactly what (and I’d like to keep it that way). That was the period when I wrote this..

These false faces everywhere,With their fake smiles just beware,

All of them prevail when there’s no light, howling like wolves in the night,

It feels like there’s something here, ‘n I wanna see it before it disappears,

Me searching for the days long gone, praising the ability to get perfection in all,

Seeking for happiness but that’s long gone, searching in memories but that’s just all,

Pricking my eyes with the smoke of yesterday, the marks of stifled fire still burning today.

The situations we face in life is what teach us and helps us become who we are.. And that’s how it works, always have and always will. We can only learn from others life but there’s only one you can truly and uniquely experience and that is your own.

Time has a way of diluting emotions. And time is what has helped me through it. So whoever is reading this, even if you don’t relate at all or if you do completly..dont lose hope, give it some time and things will start falling into places eventually. It always does.

The idea of Love..

Years before I read a book, a book i got myself addicted to. It’s wasn’t a fairytale or a perfect happy ending love story, no. But it dealt with some of the situations that you face in real life. Not that those things or those problems are the end of it.. No there’s no end. It just keeps getting better or easier with time..but it was portrayed in a beautiful way.

So almost a year ago the author wrote a letter.. A letter to love, and she encouraged her readers to do the same. Which made me think what love really is. Because today when you think of it.. There are endless definitions or meanings of what you’ll find love is.. It’s like we have captured the feeling in words. Or found words to describe how the feeling should be or is supposed to be. And co-incidentally about two days ago my boyfriend, who also happens to write these amazing poems talked to me about writing about Love. So here I am, but I can’t possibly start to tell you anything about love without drowning myself and dissapearing into a puddle of talks about him.. So rather I’m gonna talk about how I came to know about love or how we as humans romanticize love.

Ever since I was a kid I used to dream about my prince charming or how my perfect wedding would be, while still in ponytails n braces.. As I grew up, I started reading. From novels by Jane Austen to those by Nicholas Sparks. Looking around, from paintings by Renoir to the 21st century lovesick songs by Ed Sheeren. It was like the world has found and understood perfectly what love is.. Or should I say, what love is supposed to be like.

But when i ask myself, what do I feel love is..all I can think of is him. But no, what I feel for him or what I have for him is far more than what said or sung in all those novels or songs. It’s just so much more..

It’s like, just the way we are a mere dot of existence in this universe; what we say or portray love to be is just a tiny representation of what it actually is. But where are the other feelings that comes with it? Respect, trust, kindness, understanding, curiosity? These aren’t just synonyms of love but what helps us understand love as a whole… And here I’m again, trying to fit it in words. The truth is, we are really messy or complicated as humans, and we tend to mess things up rather than to just let them be. Everything doesn’t need a reason or logic or definition to it. Some just come as they are and should be left so. We try to sum things up and get done with it. We try to make it what we think is suitable or beautiful.

Just the way we have this definition or image of what beauty is or what it should be. Or the way things or people should be in order to be beautiful. But it doesn’t need your consent to be so. It’s just the way it is with or without you. Like one of my favourite authors once said, Beauty exists not in sameness but in difference. Who could imagine a giraffe without it’s long neck or a cactus without it’s spines? The irregularity of the mountain peaks that surround us is what makes them so imposing. If we tried to make them all the same, they would no longer command our respect. It’s the imperfect that astonishes and attracts us.

The sunset is always more beautiful when it’s is covered with irregularly shaped coulds, because only then can it reflect the many colours out of with dreams and poetry are made.

And us trying to make things beautiful is just so messed up. Love is beautiful, and it doesn’t need our idea of it to be so.

Love is only a word, until someone arrives to give it meaning. And then, it’s just so much more… But for now, let’s just say, it’s complicated.

The Ultimate. 

What’s ultimate? Death? Or defeat? Depends on each’s perspective. It’s easy to say that this is not the last chance, and one defeat doesn’t mean a lot, and other shit. But real meaning knows the one who’s facing defeat each time he tries, each fucking time. Every moment just gets worst. It’s like falling into a void, knowing nothing whats ahead. Will that take us to the ultimate? Or what others call it, Death? Well, death is not just getting out of your physical body as a soul, just leaving a mass of flesh behind. But, Breathing without a reason, moving without a destination is also a form of death.

And what about defeat? What does one do when he just can’t get over? From where does he bring more inspiration if there’s no one left around? Is that the end?

Too many questions, but answers to none.

Should he give up or continue without a reason?