I am a little unwell. Nothing much, just going through the throes, I guess. Happens from time to time. And then it goes away. Lets say one is in no mood to be mischievous, for a change.
I eavesdropped on someone saying no expectations, perhaps in a dream. I know the words. I recall the exacting meaning they convey. There seems to be a dash of restrain, some amount of agony and a delicate sprinkling of logic to them. It provides the person a perfect get-away. A clean-chit. You can’t blame. You can’t complain. You can’t look askance. Period.
In hindsight it is perhaps not a bad idea not to expect. Unnecessarily you lose sleep. You begin to dream half dreams. You begin to care. You tend to be protective. Quick reveries occur to you. Suddenly you feel tasked. You start liking daffy things. That is what darned expectations can do to you.
Dale Carnegie, one of the biggest thinking heads of his times, once told a massive audience: When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion. Somewhere Carnegie attempts – and probably manages to – put his finger on the exact mash. That is because all instances of sharing, every act of laughter, whenever we shout, when we canoodle -- unknowingly we are forking out a slice of that sacred sentiment, called emotion. Logic comes in much much later.
Then there is a soft globule in most of us. Plebeians call it heart. It is forever inexperienced. We may attempt to grow. Grow up. Grow rich. Grow wise. Grow smart but the heart always remains naive. It stays captive to memories.
In reality life is hard. Mean. Unpredictable. The unreal is often more powerful than the real, because reality is not always real. Without meaning to sound philosophical, it would be safe to assume that all perceptions of reality are just opinions.
You look for support, camaraderie, comfort, love. There are times when you aren’t looking for anything in particular and suddenly you have it. Such sudden, magnificent relations often offer you the confidence to walk on the defenses of your own heart. The matchless moments you think you might spend playing pranks. The circumlocutory silly philosophizing that you would like to spray each other with. The unmooned darkness you reckon – foolishly –can be deciphered together. But people move on, wittingly and unwittingly. Remembrance grows on yew trees.
Bernard Shaw was an influential thinker of his times and winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925. He wrote to his friend:
I hope you have lost your good looks, for while they last any fool can adore you, and the adoration of fools is bad for the soul. No, give me a ruined complexion and a lost figure and sixteen chins on a farmyard of crow's feet and an obvious wig. Then you shall see me coming out strong.
I dreamt last night that your heart was my piñata. I am sure vocabs aren't always good. You might have to look up for Piñata!