Hope is a heavy thing.

I was watching Shawshank Redemption, supposedly a motivating movie. Hope is a good thing, the movie says. And says so repeatedly. Hope is heavy. And people are weak. Many a people are, weak, like me. A motivational movie and I am depressed – don’t know by what degree – but certainly more depressed than I had been before I started watching it. Don’t know where life is headed, or if there is an end to this bottomless pit I am falling thru. When will I start sputtering my wings. I’m not a young bird – not anymore, if I was five years ago. Did I know what it meant to be young back then? Perhaps not. Did not give great thought to it. Do I know me to be old now? Yes I do. I give a lot of thought to… things that either old men or nominally mature men do. Men – because I don’t know what being a woman would be. Being a man, as a man, I think and assume.

I should be watchful of my karma, of what it might add to the praarabdha. My expression might demotivate someone, may bring clarity to some or smudge someone’s clarity of thoughts and purpose. A man lost might cause others to lose their way. So what I write here – I hope – people would not take very seriously. I don’t either. Or may be I do, but I don’t do. Thinking and doing: I think much, but I don’t work as much. I should move about, in the world. It’s perhaps time to meet and greet the world.

I have done that though, and thought I was better than that; worthy of more than just roaming among and heading into the masses, just being that mass of men. To me I was always more than that. Now I yearn for the average. Don’t I? I am okay with nothingness, in being nothing, but I’m not okay with doing nothing. I’m not fine with that. That eats into you a great deal.

Coming to terms with hope: hope that is heavy. I think it is, but I haven’t lifted the boulder yet. If not now, then when? Hope is a good thing. It might lift me as I lift it. This sounds impossible but only the doer knows. What do I know?