Shiva O Shiva: Conditioning through religious myths just like Fairy tales and the Prince Charming

Watching and reading too much of Shiva-Parvati convos have indoctrinated me with the idea that the man is supposed to be the perfect, righteous, powerful, all-knowing, good man who has the answer to all of my questions, understands me better than myself, provides unlimited love, peace and comfort, and who does good to the whole world; and together we travel the world and keep spreading good vibes around.
The prince charming of fairy tales was an easier ideology to get out of my system.

(This is the post preceding my Shiva, Soma, DNA, DMT post. Here I was musing about the influence of love stories in Hindu mythologies upon my subconscious: how they might have shaped my outlook on life and love and relationships and still do. However many people responded on Facebook, by rejecting all that Shiva meant, saying how irrational such attachment to these stories was, calling out on the various flaws of Shiva and lack of logic in the stories. I don’t know why I was motivated to kind of defend him with the following post. It was not much of a defence though, I simply throw all the facts and perspectives on the Shiva’s story that I have gathered and leave it open to interpretation. Because I, myself, leave the door open to multiple and new interpretations. Here is the article:


Magic’s Nemesis

Once there was Magic. And then its nemesis, Routine made its appearance. Now it’s stealing the show.

Souls and love and timelessness and just Knowing.

Because my nou is the sweetest, most innocent, naughtiest and most mischievous and adorable. And he is all the world needs to function. And to stop sometimes. My world, at least. And without him, is a concept not known to my soul yet. And since my soul is not bound by limitations of time, it has experienced all the times ever possible in the multiverse, and it knows, this concept does not exist, anywhere, at any time. There was never without you, nor will there ever be. You are here with me, you are me. I am myself only to be able to sit back and look at you separate from me, but you’re not. I am you.


Focus on…

Not you. Not him. Not anyone. Not anything. Focus on..the only thing that will forever remain. the dark canvas behind closed eyelids. You will be gone. He will. Everyone and everything will. But darkness and emptiness will always be here, at the time of death too probably, to make me confront myself..

I know the prison door is open. And Freedom is staring at me in the face. But I’m scared to go forth, because I might not need you anymore if I’m free. And I might not feel your needs and feelings. Even if i do, they might not touch me at all. And you won’t feel like you can relate to me anymore. And i might not be there for you as much as I am right now. I know..if I love you, and if the love is real, it’s gonna be stronger than anything and persist, whatever the condition I’m in, wherever I am, however high up in the sky i’m soaring. But this is like staking the love for freedom, it’s like taking the risk of losing the love for something which I want for myself which is freedom. It’s like putting freedom first, and love second. It’s like if I can do that, I don’t think I’m even worthy of the love. It’s like I’m losing a kind of true love test or something. But freedom and love shouldn’t be mutually exclusive. It shouldn’t be EITHER freedom OR love; it should be freedom WITH love or love with freedom. Because freedom is usually conducive to a proper, healthy, sane relationship.

And you always tell me I have to be free, you want me to be free. But you know I see everything in absolutes, and absolute freedom is..something big..and awesome.. and scary too. It’s like Lucy. And while I’m scared to run the risk of losing this love (knowing though that the risk is there all the fucking time, with girls and boys around, with boredom and death looming around), in the end, I’m not even sure if love exists at all. And I don’t want to restrict my freedom for something which might just have been an illusion all along. And…and…now that i come to think of it..Freedom too.. like love. like perfection. It’s the kind of thing that we constantly seek, but never seem to find. Or if we’re lucky enough to find it, by the moment we’ve found it, we are already seeking something else. It’s never gonna stop, like the earth rotating, the sun and tides rising n falling, atoms in motion.

He did not call.

When people don’t get a call, they probably don’t even notice. If they do, they just say he’s probably busy. And get over it and continue with their work. Or they make the call themselves. They don’t go on analyzing why and how and what it means and what this in turn means and this can go on and on. I wish i could too, you know. Like just switch off this thing. and stop thinking. Stop this analyzing sprees. Because I know it’s not even an efficient mechanism: it cannot consider all the factors and variables that actually are involved. It’s missing many of them and it follows branches of thought that are specifically the most self-destructive until it reaches a very dark place where you’re miserable and there’s no way out, except violence, hatred: self-hatred and hatred of the other. And your thought dwells there and it takes root there. And it becomes very hard to uproot it again. it’s like falling into this infinite spiral and it’s really dark down there. And it’s like. this diseased thing. a cancerous cell multiplying and dividing itself; expanding exponentially, abnormally and alarmingly fast. it feels like it’s gonna destroy you till you die, just like cancer, or till you go crazy. Going crazy is more scary than dying.

Yeah i wish i could just not bother about it.. but when i don’t get a call, this is what happens in my head:


It’s not pretty. and it’s scary too. And i’m not responsible for it. If i were, i’d stop at the first question. and have a blank page and a blank mind. but it’s overcrowded, it’s going overboard, it’s too much for a little head. and i wish i could channel this into something creative or beautiful, but it doesn’t work like that. it goes into directions i do not want it to go, it doesn’t follow any orders, it’s the one in command, and I have to watch its drama show. ‘It’ is not Me. No. I should not identify with It. but it’s part of me. Denying this doesn’t make it go away. On top of that i know all this is just an ego-play. In reality there’s no 2 there’s only 1. There’s no separation between him and I. Acidheads, sages and shamans will say there’s no 2, so all that is going on in your head is invalid. But my mind. it wont listen. Thought, in its very nature is dualistic and divisive, so it is bound to create the distance, the space, the distinction, the expectations, the hatred, the hurt, the jealousy, the other woman. No she isn’t born out of my thought. i hate the other woman. yes i do. and i freaking do. We’re not 1. i’m not her. To hell with the acidheads and sages and shamans : make me feel one with her and I’ll believe you. Till then I hate her and i’m gonna hate him because of her.