The mind is a beautiful thing. It defines who we are and
decides who we will become. It is the only part of our existence which knows
and understands. Tells us what to do, when to do and how to do it. The dense
matter where our identity exists, packed with our life’s ambitions and goals
and missions. So what happens when that mind starts to feel disconnected to the
body it was meant to support?
Many seek the refuge of intoxicants to circumvent the
emotions they do not need, stifle the beginning of imminent issues, to free
themselves of the proverbial anchors that fix them to a spot they wish to
evade. In an effort to seize the spontaneity they think has been rent apart
from them, to become oh so reckless and free, they trick the very mind which is
supposed to know. But the tables turn when the mind decides to wander off when
we want to feel. When we become incapable of channelizing our emotions because
our mind belies the presence of the body. When the senses feel but the mind
declines to register. When a certain lightness pervades with the heaviness of
its knowledge. When you realise that your mind is just out of your reach. When
you become a passive consumer of your own life.
When the mind stops knowing and you know it.
Suddenly the breeze loses its sweetness as it collides with
the body that can feel its presence but fails to solicit an emotion. A
perpetual séance exits without our will or doing. The senses beseech the mind
to accept and react. But the mind does not know anymore. The body then moves by
virtue of habit and not will.
When the feeling of disconnect gets so disconcerting that it
starts to gnaw at your nerves. That you become desperate for a means to force
your mind to notice that you exist. When the only sense that can restore the
connection is pain. Then you cut yourself.
