A letter to myself
By: Vyom Malhotra
Tags: Sketch, Letters, Abstract, Poetry

I am a simple land dweller.

I know nothing,

I am nothing.

I will dwell this land for eternity,

Doing your work.

I can’t comprehend life. And if I could, then life wouldn’t be the most incomprehensible experience, would it? What makes life good is that I don’t need to comprehend it. I can just live it. I am living it.

Yet, part of the beauty is that I still try to comprehend it. But that’s not me, that’s just its wish. I could never take credit for it.

When someone gives you a gift but you go out looking for the gift. And you look and you look, until every pebble has been turned. That is my predicament.

I promise to stop telling people what they should do or feel. I have no right. I am sharing this letter I wrote to myself in an effort to share my internal dialogue and nothing else:

Sometimes you beat yourself over how you are supposed to feel. I understand. It’s okay. Try different things. See what works. See for yourself. Don’t believe anyone. But it’s okay to try. Dedicate yourself to the trying. To living more fully in the moment. Whether or not it happens is not up to us. There is nothing to happen anyway, nowhere to go, no one to impress. But I know its hard to feel that sometimes.

You can take things gradually, what’s the rush? Make the film. Do the job. Then let’s go from there. Let’s not think too hard about it. Its fine man, either way. Sometimes you feel like you won’t do your ideas justice - the truth is you never will. That’s this game. If you still want to play it. And I know you do.

Lets assume for a second that you suck. Like just because you don’t have what it takes and you will just suck. So what? My friends won’t love me any less. My family won’t love me any less. What’s wrong with sucking. To suck and suck and to keep going is a worthwhile endeavor, and a beautiful way to live and die.

You gotta play it like its light. Heavy is fine too. But the truth is, its all bullshit and the beauty is somewhere in the replication of the bullshit.

There is something bigger at play behind all these forms, or rather something pure and potent. It’s not our doing. We aren’t ever gonna fucking comprehend it. The practices aren’t for comprehension, they are for sharpening your senses enough so that the beyond is at play and you don’t need to comprehend.

Don’t take pressure about it, even though I know you will. Just sharpen your senses and instincts and they will guide you. It’s fine either way man. Isn’t it wild that all this assuring truth is inside me and I can access it. Try and IT will guide you. Nothing more beautiful than dying while trying.

The inner turmoil of what to do next means jack shit. Trust your decisions and don’t plan too far in advance. Take it one step at a time and just feel your way through. Sharpen your ears so you can hear easier. You can’t just know what to do in advance and you don’t need to. If you could, that would make it all your doing which it isn’t and never will be. You always have to feel your way through. Wanting to know in advance is just more bullshit.

I bow down to your beauty. That is the sincere emotion. I can’t even comprehend… sensations and feelings, let alone life.

At the end of the day, it’s all just experiencing life. But it’s not just life. It’s

LIFE

I dedicate myself to the search for the unsearchable, for its the least I could do for it.