Mediocrity The New Norm
The reality of living in this world, a conflict between the needs and wishes deeply anchored in the class divide. I see mediocrity so permanently imbued in the collective psyche. Sometimes all one can do is to give in to the mundane, stop living & just exist. Finding someone to have an offbeat, real meaningful conversation, an impossibility.
I sought refuge in the social media for some time, but that too has become stale, tedious. A habit without any emotional reward. The interaction, all but reduced to regurgitation of bent opinions and trumpeting of political agenda or some religious doctrine, manipulation. No one questions anymore, no one has time to think for himself and arrive on conclusions, perhaps wrong but his own.
This place has no respite, no open space to just sit and ponder. One wonders is it by design? The whole system built on repression, on exploitation, the divide, easily seen. Yet the rituals of allegiance continue, conditioning the masses not to question. A new form of indemnified bondage.
Most of us don't even recognise the mediocrity that is force fed to us anymore, the daily interactions, the tv screens, the tiny device in our hands, reinforcing our biases and misconceptions, keeps us "entertained" making us oblivious to everything else. Talk to any average teen on the street and be surprised to realise that in their world the accumulation of knowledge, the wonder of discovering something new has no place at all.
Yes I have a grievance with this world, with its people, with so much potential for ascension, yet they choose decay, they choose to be the worst there is. All those things of beauty created by man, a beautiful song, a miniature painting on a grain of rice, the ability to love unconditionally, sacrifice, but we choose hatred, bigotry and oppression, as if the soul has been corroded beyond recognition.
I feel nauseated, entrenched by so much decadence, all illusions of purity shattered one by one, even my own. What are we teaching the next generation? have we learned no lesson in this life at all? At what stage will we draw the line? Is the line even relevant anymore? A world where nothing remains sacred, an infant fair game, a society so morally bankrupt that we can't even speak out even if the atrocity happens right outside our door. Yet the world revels at the repulsive, revealing that we have accepted mediocrity as the new standard.
One wakes up tired, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders, perhaps it is. All those broken dreams, the betrayals & indifference of loved ones, the forsaking of blood bonds, must take their toll, as if everything once revered, must fall from grace. The curse of the thinking man is that he cannot just let it go, as if one is pushed from the precipice into an endless fall, it invades his thoughts, there is no out, there is no stopping ones thoughts, you cannot scream, no one will hear even if you do.
One wishes for a mute button for the mind, but there isn't any & this imprisonment for life within, must be endured. Who can tell what wars are being fought behind those eyes. The world breaths on superficiality, no one has the time to read between the lines, to analyse, or place a supportive hand on someone's shoulder.
The narrative here is erratic, aimless, just like the mind it originates from, a mind in turmoil, chains of thought interlinked, jump from one un answered question to another, from one ache to the next, one echo to another, with no end in sight a continuous circle of internal torment, but on the surface one smiles, laughter, hollow, because it has no soul.
Why do I write this, when I know it makes no difference at all. Perhaps I yearn for the lost time when the littlest things were exciting, when the morning sun brought so much joy, when your own thoughts were not haunting, when the voices one heard were kind and generous, not the cruel klaxons of war and bigotry.
The most precious thing that one could ever loose is the beautiful naivety of childhood.
The wonder.
Who has time to wonder anymore.
I sought refuge in the social media for some time, but that too has become stale, tedious. A habit without any emotional reward. The interaction, all but reduced to regurgitation of bent opinions and trumpeting of political agenda or some religious doctrine, manipulation. No one questions anymore, no one has time to think for himself and arrive on conclusions, perhaps wrong but his own.
This place has no respite, no open space to just sit and ponder. One wonders is it by design? The whole system built on repression, on exploitation, the divide, easily seen. Yet the rituals of allegiance continue, conditioning the masses not to question. A new form of indemnified bondage.
Most of us don't even recognise the mediocrity that is force fed to us anymore, the daily interactions, the tv screens, the tiny device in our hands, reinforcing our biases and misconceptions, keeps us "entertained" making us oblivious to everything else. Talk to any average teen on the street and be surprised to realise that in their world the accumulation of knowledge, the wonder of discovering something new has no place at all.
Yes I have a grievance with this world, with its people, with so much potential for ascension, yet they choose decay, they choose to be the worst there is. All those things of beauty created by man, a beautiful song, a miniature painting on a grain of rice, the ability to love unconditionally, sacrifice, but we choose hatred, bigotry and oppression, as if the soul has been corroded beyond recognition.
I feel nauseated, entrenched by so much decadence, all illusions of purity shattered one by one, even my own. What are we teaching the next generation? have we learned no lesson in this life at all? At what stage will we draw the line? Is the line even relevant anymore? A world where nothing remains sacred, an infant fair game, a society so morally bankrupt that we can't even speak out even if the atrocity happens right outside our door. Yet the world revels at the repulsive, revealing that we have accepted mediocrity as the new standard.
One wakes up tired, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders, perhaps it is. All those broken dreams, the betrayals & indifference of loved ones, the forsaking of blood bonds, must take their toll, as if everything once revered, must fall from grace. The curse of the thinking man is that he cannot just let it go, as if one is pushed from the precipice into an endless fall, it invades his thoughts, there is no out, there is no stopping ones thoughts, you cannot scream, no one will hear even if you do.
One wishes for a mute button for the mind, but there isn't any & this imprisonment for life within, must be endured. Who can tell what wars are being fought behind those eyes. The world breaths on superficiality, no one has the time to read between the lines, to analyse, or place a supportive hand on someone's shoulder.
The narrative here is erratic, aimless, just like the mind it originates from, a mind in turmoil, chains of thought interlinked, jump from one un answered question to another, from one ache to the next, one echo to another, with no end in sight a continuous circle of internal torment, but on the surface one smiles, laughter, hollow, because it has no soul.
Why do I write this, when I know it makes no difference at all. Perhaps I yearn for the lost time when the littlest things were exciting, when the morning sun brought so much joy, when your own thoughts were not haunting, when the voices one heard were kind and generous, not the cruel klaxons of war and bigotry.
The most precious thing that one could ever loose is the beautiful naivety of childhood.
The wonder.
Who has time to wonder anymore.
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