Ishaisms, Reflections

OF LOVE AND WAR

Isha Garg

Ishaisms

I’ve sought long to seek answers to this desperate thirst, this aching pull towards companionship, towards other souls; the need to draw and be drawn to another human – brought out by the innate understanding that one’s burdens weren’t meant to be borne by oneself alone; that the cloak of loneliness was to be shed, once and for all, to seek warmth and safety in the embrace of a loved one.

There rests a deep-seated desire of belonging to someone and being accepted, even in the misunderstood heart of the misanthrope; there grows within the silent, observant introvert, a craving to bare heart and soul and get lost in celebration and conversation; there lies in the heart of the most neurotic, control-freak, a secret urge to be swept up the moment and lose all control… and in each heart beats a call for love, and the need to be someone’s one and only.

Millions of songs composed, tales written, histories explained, mythologies read, artworks done, battles fought – for this, one sublime, supreme, and suppressed sensation of love – yet its show is looked down upon, shunned even, and forced to wear the veil named weakness; while violence, passiveness, stoicism are glorified as strength.

Cupid may be blindfolded, but the world is blind, running about in circles, acting holier-than-thou, failing to see the divinity, joy and immense healing power in love. They hide their expression behind smokescreens and darkness, while swords are brandished in broad daylight, and triggers and blows care not for any cover or pretense.

Oh we’re a lost world, dear reader, and a scared world; and a world that makes away at the first notice of trouble…

And thus, the placid petals shall always fear the violent strength of the terrible thorn, and bloom in silence and captivity, offering their fragrance only when the breeze happens to blow past them, evoking their natural instincts momentarily… the trees shall always remain in fear of being uprooted by some violent force of nature or human, and therefore rustle quietly, when no one listens… the gardens of love shall always remain shrouded in duplicity, masking themselves, resembling a wilderness instead, with here a rose, there a thorn; here a harmless little copse, there a jutting, suspicious, buttress; here a patch of sunny, clear blue sky, and there the dense, fearsome darkness of tall, twisted growths, with their lifelike branches ready to entrap the wanderer; intimidating, eerie and dangerous….

For the world won’t let beauty reign – the world doesn’t understand beauty; the world is threatened by beauty; the world is scared of beauty… and what is beauty, dear reader, but love?

© Isha Garg

Doodle by Isha Garg

Published by Isha Garg

I am all ages; the timeless sea... One with nature, the breeze and the trees... Sparks of fire are the soul of me; I'm all that was, is and will be. © Author of Dark River - a deluge of poetry.

93 thoughts on “OF LOVE AND WAR”

  1. Wow, today the alignment of reality must be just so. This is so powerful, so poignant, so very real for me. It speaks directly to my life, with an eerie precision.

    All said and done, this is sublime Isha. A great piece of writing.

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    1. Wow, I’m touched by that comment, Auroraboros! It is always a special moment to be told that a reader relates to my work, for I know that the articles I relate to are so much more precious to me than a mere entertaining read! So thanks for that! 😊

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  3. This writing is beyond stunning, your dear reader, let’s call him ESP 😛 stands up for ovation, not only does he understand everything profound so eloquently presented here but he agrees to all.

    To cite one example:
    Even though we crave to love and be loved as individuals, as a collective we consider it a flaw, a sign of weakness, reason of our undoing. So much better and well put by you in the passage below.
    Millions of songs composed, tales written, histories explained, mythologies read, artworks done, battles fought – for this, one sublime, supreme, and suppressed sensation of love – yet its show is looked down upon, shunned even, and forced to wear the veil named weakness; while violence, passiveness, stoicism are glorified as strength.

    One of the best posts I have read on WP.

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    1. Oh my Goodness, to be greeted with such a heartfelt, uplifting comment is a pleasure beyond description! I like how you have the quality to break things down and bring out the essence, a quality amply reflected in your writing ESP!
      I don’t know what to say for that concluding praise though… Except THANK YOU! 😇

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  6. Awesome work!, This is clearly you allowing yourself to be a vessel/instrument for what you & the rest of the world were created as & that’s love. The ability to “Allow” isn’t something most people are willing to practice. Your delivery resonates because you are on the Love frequency. Anyone with a heart to see can see that you’re one of the awakened souls in this lifetime…..Sorry for being long winded….This is Great!💪

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    1. Please don’t apologize for such a profound, insightful analysis! I have read and re-read your comment and am in awe of your precision!
      We were created as love, and you are so right in calling it an ability to be practiced!
      Thank you for calling me an ‘awakened’ soul… Your comment tells me you are one too!

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  9. Yes!
    The world is threatened by beauty; the world is scared by beauty!
    But some of us will, time and time again, relish in it! Will remind others of it, over and over…. never ceasing.
    Tonight I took a walk in the rain, past gnarled moss ridden trees not yet budding. Everywhere was the grey, and I’m sure other folk were focussing on it as they rushed home, damp and downcast.
    But I only felt the crisp, damp air in my lungs …. and looked beyond the barren branches to the early flowers of the season. It is so easy to focus on the negative, to be enveloped by the grey of the world. Yet, even if there are a handful of us in whom hope exists, love exists, that is something. And we can, in our own way, chip away at the dam of darkness. With love and friendship.
    Bravo dear Isha, I thoroughly enjoyed this! Such a fine, expressive write you are.
    We know the truth and weakness of the world, yet somehow, with the purple drapes drawn … we can gaze at the moon and hope. ❤

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    1. Diana, it’s not often that a writer is speechless but you always manage to achieve that feat with your words!
      The world thrives on those that see beauty as you say, otherwise we are a doomed species… Focusing on the good takes strength, courage, optimism and hope. I lived your mentioned experience vicariously, and felt your hope… Looking beyond, looking with a knowing and belief that the flowers will bloom. It is the way of life, unchangeable, and a given. ❤
      Thank-you for being an angel to me with your words of hope, both in and out of WordPress! 😘
      Here’s to gazing at the moon and ‘chipping away at the dam of darkness’ 🍸

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      1. My pleasure, sweet lady!
        And I raise a glass with you to eternal moon gazing to a verbal soundtrack of Rumi’s words … “Love is the bridge between you and everything.” ❤

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  12. Heart-warmingly beautiful and bone-chillingly true.
    But it will not always stay that way. The last wagon of the human train of eight billion people will eventually come home into the station of love and understanding and compassion.

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  13. This is beautiful & poignant writeup, Isha. When you enjoy the wordpower and thoughts behind word, it is certainly a wonderful work.Real beauty lies in selfless love, the love full of honesty & wisdom.
    And once again your writeups are incomplete without lovely artwork!👏📝👌😇

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  14. Dear Isha, it would be a tragedy if you stop writing. There are not a thousand writers who have a voice. Meaning I am not reading, you are reading it to me. That’s powerful, because every emotion I get to hear in your voice, the transitional sigh until the pen stops and your soul says finally. You certainly have pour out of your soul. This piece of writing was a tornado.

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  15. This is so deep and intense. I like the sound of your write up and the train of thought it starts. It’s so overwhelming. I loved it…. You’re, like I always say, an amazing writer. Incredible!!!😊

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  25. As beautiful as you write and I say it is breath taking, it would’ve been faster for you to say you noticed my keen admiration of your voice. : ))
    But still- where would we be if not embarked on a longing journey in search to be a loves beauty…found?
    Until the next…

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  28. You are such a talented writer Isha, be it prose or poetry. This powerful piece makes me yearn to reach out and hug you, to let you know that I am here… That I understand beauty, that I am not scared of it nor threatened by it and I will always let beauty, aka love, reign. Hugs & Love dear friend. I wonder, do you even know how gifted you are? Wish many blessings upon you. Mine among them. 😊💛💕

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  33. This is powerful prose Isha. Have you read much of Dylan Thomas’ work? I remember a poem of his which begins, “The force of the green fuse drives the flower.” Your meditation on plants, trees and passive petals in the last paragraph above made me think of this Welsh poet who suffered much as well as produced so much work still celebrated and read today. I gather the American balladeer and folk rock icon Dylan Thomas renamed himself after Dylan Thomas.

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    1. Thank you so much, Xavier!
      Unfortunately, my only reference to Dylan Thomas is from the poem that goes something like, “The years shall run like rabbits”…”. I’m always amazed at your vast reservoir of knowledge – you always give me so much to think about! I adore the Welsh sensibility to nature and beauty, mystical lore and I’m sure it would be a treat to read the poet. Thank you for telling me about him.

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      1. You gave me a pass on my typeo above regarding Dylan Thomas naming himself after Dylan Thomas! I evidently was distracted by your beautiful reading of your work on the recent video recording. You have a lovely voice. I meant to write that BOB Dylan named himself after Dylan Thomas. Now you may or may not know that Bob Dylan received a Nobel Prize for his own work a few years ago. Bob Dylan made poetry “cool” for a new generation in the mid ’60’s and on. Dylan Thomas may have been the more creative poet. They both lived colourful lives, though Dylan Thomas is deceased. Best regards Isha.

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      2. Hi, Xavier. Yes, Bob Dylan did receive a very well deserved Nobel prize, and I do agree with the argument that ensued then about how songwriters are poets in their right – I think of the likes of The Beatles etc, while saying that – although, there’s a fine line between the kind that qualify as poets and those that simply don’t.

        I cherish our exchanges more than I can say. Thanks for always enlightening me.

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  35. ” They hide their expression behind smokescreens and darkness, while swords are brandished in broad daylight, and triggers and blows care not for any cover or pretense.”
    ” the world doesn’t understand beauty; the world is threatened by beauty; the world is scared of beauty… and what is beauty, dear reader, but love?”

    You speak my heart in ways incredible to me and fulfilling to my soul to know that you get it. The world that I walk out in feels like an alternate reality, you describe so exquisitely. What is real is underneath all that we actually see. The shortest way to describe it is love. Because it is a feeling.

    So good to read from you always.

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    1. Ah, you speak mine when you say that the world feels like an “alternate reality”. Honestly, I’m waking up to this fact in more ways than one each day!
      You’re full of wisdom and beautiful insight, Pragalbha! You must be great to converse with!
      Have a wonderful day. All my gratitude! ❤️

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