The Suffocating Company of Chronic Complainers

In the middle of the conversation, she felt the sudden upsurge of a suffocating feeling which combined with the heat made her dizzy. Her interlocutor had been reduced to a mouth, out of which only the black, dark clouds were coming out. she could even imagine her as an animated little figure whose role was to issue dark clouds. The words, the content of the conversation had for a while ceased to matter. She realized that she had been once again ambushed, trapped into a futile conversation about why things didn't go the idealistic way one had planned. She cursed herself for her impotence at shouting at people and found comfort in imagining a parallel scenario in which she could actually tell her to STOP! ( which was definitely a euphemism for what she actually had in mind to say!)

The conversation left her dried out and stripped of the positive vibe, she had woken up to in the morning. When they departed, she sat on the first bench in the park, trying to calm the chatter of her thoughts and allowing the toxic negativity she had been exposed to, to pass! More and more, she found herself drifting apart from the stifling rhetoric of complainers, the totalizers, the naggers: those for whom every encounter and every occurrence was a platform for outpouring a general distaste for and dissatisfaction at everything. For all her attempts at exercising empathy, patience, and tolerance, she experienced suffocation in the company of a chronic complainer and feared the gradual infiltration of that unsolicited wave of grumble and badger.

Paradoxically, it was the ones with the least action-oriented conducts and more expectation-oriented mentality who complained the most.The tone of judgment in the last sentence made her alert to the presence of a silent rage still working its way on her thoughts but she decided to let the sentence stay as a testament to the moment: a moment of being unsettled, discomforted, and disrupted as a living being, breathing life in all its shades and shadows and varieties.

She reminded herself of her meditation note: “ to sit down and to benefit all sentient beings with an altruistic intention”. The wind was still caressing the trees, generating the most peaceful musical notes and the birds were still chirping right in front of her window. She was now gradually observing the pulses of anger and disturbance coming down.

Fascinated by the dance of words as they blur the lines between reality and illusion, fact and fiction! Here, I write of my blurred songs of desire!