Unspoken Verses

 So a lot of things happened. I am not sure where I left you guys the last time, but here's some updates. I have now been working at my big tech company for about 4 years. The plan was to do it for 3 years, then get out and work on something more meaningful to me. But there were a few more things that happened in between. I got into yoga and meditation big time for about 2 years.  It was the kind of getting into yoga and meditation, where people meet you after a few months, and do not recognize you, because you look different, you talk different, and you generally have a different air about you. I was deep enough, that I would wake up at 3:40 am everyday and sometimes be doing 2-3 hours of yoga a day before going into work. This one time I went 5 days while eating about 3 oranges, and 1 lunch -> that too was mainly because I got tired of the fact that I wasn't hungry. I also remember sitting at work one day looking very intently at my skip manager, and suddenly seeing the c...

Depression is not about being sad. Well, it's as much about being sad as having a cold is about sneezing. Sure, that's the most obvious symptom. But trying to fix depression by trying to make someone laugh or feel a bit better is about as effective as putting a finger under the nose to stop the sneezing. Okay, crappy analogy, sure, but the point I'm trying to drive is, that the very obvious sadness is just a consequence or a symptom of a deeper rooted problem. And the deeper rooted problem is that of disconnect. The kind of disconnect that prevents you from getting truly involved with life. Whether it comes from feeling that you're worse off than everything around you, or way smarter/better than everything around you. The result is the same. This lack of involvement in your life means, that all solutions that are tried, to pull you out, become ineffective because of the distance you maintain from everything. After everything passes, whether it's a great social...

“I have a feeling that you’re riding for some kind of a terrible, terrible fall. But I don’t honestly know what kind… Are you listening to me?” “Yes.” “It might be the kind where, at the age of thirty, you sit in some bar hating everyone who comes in looking as if he might have played football in college. Then again, you might pick up just enough education to hate people who say, ‘It’s a secret between he and I.’ Or you may end up in some business office, throwing paper-clips at the nearest stenographer. I just don’t know. But do you know what I’m driving at, at all?” "...This fall I think you're riding for --it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind.The man isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole arrangement's designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn't supply them with. Or they thought their own environment couldn't supply ...