A Creative Conversation with the Epitome of Inspirations - Krishna

You are still as far away as the rain cloud you so proudly paint yourself with, and as near as the tickle of a peacock feather on my cheek.
Before I could start thinking about the concept of God, you were there - as a bit of imagination, as an invisible companion to have conversations with on the terrace, and as a daydream to paint away on sunny solitudinal afternoons.
Though at times I was wary of you, I remember I never was fearful of you. With dance you grew closer and through you I got my first introduction to various other emotions. What I loved the most about what I felt was not just the awe and the amazement, but the utter sense of you being so human and so complete in being a human in all your emotions, relations and dealings. There never was a crust that I had to break through to reach you or strive to get your attention and grace on me; you were always something that existed alongside me in life - as a concept, as love, as trust, as a prayer, and sometimes as a visible absence.

My perception of humanity was shaped by the sort of 'humanness' I saw in you - something grand, something intense, something in control yet sensitive and vulnerable enough, something boundless and blissful and something inexhaustivef. These are the qualities I look for on a universal basis, probably in everything.

Though I do not understand some of your decisions and your stories, and nor completely agree with some, I know it doesn't offend you; you probably did all that you did (or your writer told all that he told about you) so that the mirage of perfection is broken - you are so perfect in your imperfections that it does not feel awkward. And you wanted us to know it.

Were you happy as a child ? Did you go stealing all the butter and food because you were a spoilt and pampered brat, or did your mother, by any chance, try to discipline you a tad too much from which you wanted to break away ?
Did you really leave Radha because you wanted to protect her honor as a married woman, or were you just scared to accept that love and so you found the glitter and comfort of Mathura easier to deal with ?
Did you really manipulate the war with your clever little lies, or were you just desperately trying to keep everyone at peace and it all worked like a brilliant stroke of luck?
Were you really magnanimous to marry 16,000 queens or was it a kind of penance to assuage your own guilt for having played with the feelings of thousands of maidens in your youth?
More than anything, how did you manage to become so personal and intimate, that your recantations in the Bhagad Gita remain as one of the most universal texts on our inherent nature ?
Who were you, Krishna? Do I believe what people say or what you say to me in my reveries ?
Is it necessary to be sure of your existence and what I am given as facts of your existence? Do I always need facts ? Aren't you already existing in all of us, not just as a spark of the divine as we keep telling ourselves; but as the human nature itself, with all its glorious things and all its not so glorious things (as we perceive it )?
And is that what you were trying to convey to us all, when you said that we are in you, and you are in us?

My 'Normal'

I am able to breathe!
Really breathe.
I live in this little cottage on the corner of a very quite street in a very small town called Alva in the Mid West.
I wake up when my body feels ready, and go to sleep when it feels tired. I eat when my stomach asks for food. I am not following any schedule.
Been a while since I've been kissed, but I am not exactly clamoring for a new love or to find a companion to fill the 'normally' expected empty space.
I do not find the emptiness.
I feel healthy - mind, body, AND soul.
My Mondays and Sundays all seem the same.
I take walks, drinking in the aura of what this space has to offer - little cottages with adorable little signs and gardens, empty stretches of streets which make you feel like you are in a movie set or something, great big trees which paint shadows whenever the sun obliges, or just rustle around when it is windy.
My life right now revolves around books from the library, a studio where I go and paint or draw when I feel like, the little market down the street, and a couple of great friends with whom I share conversations and long drives, art talks and movie nights, and a few performances whenever and wherever I am asked to.
I am not planning fervently about my future, though my mind is giving me hints of some great ideas for life which I know will mature soon. I am not exactly earning as much as I had thought and desired, but no qualms. It will flow in soon, I know.
I am watching small town parades which make me relive my childhood images crafted by the Nancy Drew books, high school Cinderella pageants, some crazy movies, and possibly some rodeo games in the near future.
I do not have a new sim and there is no net connection except at the library.
I am slowly but persistently learning French.
Sometimes, when I walk back to my little cottage and snuggle in for the night, I hear footsteps on the empty floor above in the dead stillness. (And I swear someone stroked my head a couple of mornings ago, until I started whimpering in my sleep).
Is it the quite? Is it the solitude? Is it another dimension?
I am not on a holiday, I am not in a dream, and it definitely does not feel like a far away illusion. It is very much real, because I can feel my own breath. My soul is on a great vacation, just breathing. And breathing.
Back home, people would laugh at this 'life'. No job? No marriage or romance? No schedule? What exactly do you do ? Or who exactly are you ?
I don't need definitions for myself. I don't need definitions for my life. I don't need anyone to tell me what my life should be like.
I don't need to be 'normal' by your standards.
I need joy, MY joy, and I shall define it however I want to.
But I really do fear going back home, and that, to me, is the only thing that is not seeming normal right now.