Speechless!

The stream was a beautiful shade of green and wherever the waters tripped on rocks, it bled white.
Polo drank from it to his heart's content and rested by its side. Around him were hills covered in a lush green carpet of grass. The soft touch of slumber snoozed his eyelids shut and drifted him to a peaceful nap.
A week ago, Polo had run away from his house with a bag containing some food, two sets of clothes and bare minimum money. He was always the quiet kind with a mind, full of questions. All of fourteen,  Polo thought about the source of life, of happiness and sorrow, the extremes - of people having food, money or a complete lack of it.
When he woke up, the daylight had already faded. Far away, on the other side of the stream was a mountain and the sky above it was subtly lit. Confused about the source of light he stayed still and kept gazing. Moments later, to his surprise at first, followed by delight, a beautiful off-white colored full moon peeked from behind the mountain. He witnessed a moon-rise for the first time and sipped with his heart and soul, the ethereal scene.

Weeks later, Polo's lamenting parents, who belonged to a hill tribe and of limited means, visited a monastery. They had received word from this religious abode; word about their only son. After waiting for several minutes in the open courtyard, within the monastery, they finally saw him. His mother kneeled on the ground before him, wrapping her arms around his knees; weeping. His father took his hand to his forehead and cried uncontrollably. They found Polo, only to lose him forever.

Polo stood before them; head shaven, wearing saffron robes and a calm smile. Tears trickling down his cheeks.
Tears of joy and of his divine calling - Monkhood.

Look into yourself, at some plane you are unhappy, complaining and vindictive.
Look at the person you are closest to, you will see the same.

We are all complaining and claim to have been wronged the most, none of us are ready to listen.. Those of us who do listen, unfortunately do not know how to guide the other into peaceful silence. There's a reason for that.

A poet, that creates resonance in his/her reader, they say, is formed out of a person who has faced unhappiness in life.

When we are in pain and are unable to do anything about it, we complain, to whoever is ready to listen or half-listen. When we are chatting with friends, we discuss other friends, mostly in a non-constructive manner. While watching K-Serials, we listen to the characters discontentedly grumbling, accusing and quarreling. We have, with time, programmed our lives with so much of this cacophony, that it seems alright and even self-consoling.

I recently visited Bali, Indonesia and noticed something very interesting. All places of worship, including statues and priests wore the same black and white checkered clotharound their waist. Upon asking they said, (there is a much deeper interpratation, but speaking loosely) good and bad traits reside in a mesh within every person.

We have to slowly train our minds to think positive. To forgive those that wronged us. To think of our misfortune as our own Karma and move on with acceptance. It's like exercise, the more we practice the sooner we experience the results of positivity in our lives.

The silence that follows a period of cacophony is of a heavenly nature. Once you've lived it first hand, please assist others who are going through similar dissonance in their lives. During the silence we realize that the bad was not entirely bad and that there was always a "method in the madness". 

There is no coincidence. Everything happens for a reason.

Trust in His plan and if you find yourself failing in life, ask Him for help. He will send you angels.

No matter what i think of blogging about has already been written a thousand times everywhere. The sense of purpose and of originality goes for a toss; unless of course I'm writing a story or a poem. None of which i seem to succeed in doing either.
So what do i blog?

Speechless: Remember to observe like you did before and remind yourself to be the best listener that you once were.