Krishnamurti says that happiness is when you have a song in your heart and that life would be very dull without it. For the past few days my heart has been playing songs that continue to resound in my ears.
I've been feeling extraordinarily useless and lazy for the past 7 months or so. I haven't danced in a while and all I do is cross a road to reach college. So, when my period of stagnation finally ended, I was elated. Evidently, the word 'happy' doesn't cut it. Well, I became hyper and excited and full of boundless energy that found its channel of release in talking and laughing about nothing. While I have been (merely) happy in all this time, I really missed this feeling of, well, jubilation. What exactly am I going on about? Excuse the caps lock that is about to come, but,
I PLAYED FOOTBALL AFTER SO LONG! Yes, I sound like an excited teenager, but I cannot begin to explain to you the amount of joy it gave me. You're probably tired of hearing that, but, as a responsible blogger I must explain, even if it's hard.
I gave up playing football in class 5. Why? I have no idea. My games teacher told the rest of the school that it was because one of my seniors kicked a ball really hard and it managed to hit my face – my nose to be precise, or was it the top of my head... Although I don't know how true that story is, I did give it up and it's probably the only regret of my life. I played a little with the guys in my class when I was in class 11 and 12 and of course, played some beach football now and then, but it wasn't enough.
So when I played yesterday with four other people, I was slightly apprehensive about my standards having gone down, but in the end it didn't even matter (you mentally sang that didn't you?). We played gully football and had to keep stopping every time a car or bike passed by with excruciating slowness. But in spite of that, the rush of the (hypothetical) wind in my (tied up) hair – I'm allowed to romanticise this – was a feeling I'd long been yearning for. It's an extraordinary feeling to stop using your hands and just kick a football around. Dribbling past a defender, tackling and scoring goals is great, but there's also so much to enjoy in losing the ball to the other team.
Yes, you might think I'm crazy and strange, and you wouldn't be wrong, but there's this quality that physical activity has – giving you energy, adrenaline rushes and the romantic moment of the wind in your hair. When you can end up being dead to the world by 10.00 pm because you're tired, and waking up at 6.00 am or earlier to go and play (as I did this morning to play frisbee) or run or dance, it gives you a feeling of contentment which can't be achieved by doing anything else. It doesn't matter how bad you are or have become. It doesn't matter how much your stamina has gone down. It doesn't matter how much pain you endure – the ache in my muscles after breaking away from my period of hibernation, is one of the most pleasant pains I've ever felt and a pain I welcome with a resonating song from my heart.
I've talked about dance and I've talked about pain and happiness, and I don't what effect it had on you, reader; but now, the glee that turns me from the usual broody muser to a hyper, yet exhausted child, will leave you with no choice but to listen to the song in my heart, or leave you with one of your own (I finally understand why happiness is so catchy) no matter how out of tune it is.
I've been feeling extraordinarily useless and lazy for the past 7 months or so. I haven't danced in a while and all I do is cross a road to reach college. So, when my period of stagnation finally ended, I was elated. Evidently, the word 'happy' doesn't cut it. Well, I became hyper and excited and full of boundless energy that found its channel of release in talking and laughing about nothing. While I have been (merely) happy in all this time, I really missed this feeling of, well, jubilation. What exactly am I going on about? Excuse the caps lock that is about to come, but,
I PLAYED FOOTBALL AFTER SO LONG! Yes, I sound like an excited teenager, but I cannot begin to explain to you the amount of joy it gave me. You're probably tired of hearing that, but, as a responsible blogger I must explain, even if it's hard.
I gave up playing football in class 5. Why? I have no idea. My games teacher told the rest of the school that it was because one of my seniors kicked a ball really hard and it managed to hit my face – my nose to be precise, or was it the top of my head... Although I don't know how true that story is, I did give it up and it's probably the only regret of my life. I played a little with the guys in my class when I was in class 11 and 12 and of course, played some beach football now and then, but it wasn't enough.
So when I played yesterday with four other people, I was slightly apprehensive about my standards having gone down, but in the end it didn't even matter (you mentally sang that didn't you?). We played gully football and had to keep stopping every time a car or bike passed by with excruciating slowness. But in spite of that, the rush of the (hypothetical) wind in my (tied up) hair – I'm allowed to romanticise this – was a feeling I'd long been yearning for. It's an extraordinary feeling to stop using your hands and just kick a football around. Dribbling past a defender, tackling and scoring goals is great, but there's also so much to enjoy in losing the ball to the other team.
Yes, you might think I'm crazy and strange, and you wouldn't be wrong, but there's this quality that physical activity has – giving you energy, adrenaline rushes and the romantic moment of the wind in your hair. When you can end up being dead to the world by 10.00 pm because you're tired, and waking up at 6.00 am or earlier to go and play (as I did this morning to play frisbee) or run or dance, it gives you a feeling of contentment which can't be achieved by doing anything else. It doesn't matter how bad you are or have become. It doesn't matter how much your stamina has gone down. It doesn't matter how much pain you endure – the ache in my muscles after breaking away from my period of hibernation, is one of the most pleasant pains I've ever felt and a pain I welcome with a resonating song from my heart.
I've talked about dance and I've talked about pain and happiness, and I don't what effect it had on you, reader; but now, the glee that turns me from the usual broody muser to a hyper, yet exhausted child, will leave you with no choice but to listen to the song in my heart, or leave you with one of your own (I finally understand why happiness is so catchy) no matter how out of tune it is.
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