Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger

I am very philosophical. Although my outer veneer may not quite reflect my deep dive into the realm of abstracts and the metaphysical, I have time and again let myself wander into the territory of the unknown.

People who know me, I presume, assume that my lightness of being is a product of chance. I can categorical say they are as far from the truth as I am in my search for the ultimate answer. (Albeit 42 has been propounded as the ultimate answer, I still haven’t got close to accepting it. I guess Douglass Adams fans will forgive me).

I take life  as it comes, mainly because there isn’t much you can do about it. That,  I admit is not quite a zen thing to say, but then how else are you going to take it.

My forays into philosophical thought process of who am I?, what am I doing here?, what is the meaning of life?, all started very early in life. And to be precise, in my maths classes. Absolutely lost in numbers, my mind sought various answers. And my abstract reasoning and thinking got further fillip with the introduction of geometry and calculus  theorem. My abstract answers had me swelling with pride.  That philosophers seldom agree, I realised when my maths teachers couldn’t extract my abstract. They never quite believed in number 42 (my main reason for not accepting that as answer) or for that matter even 33. They all were followers of a constant _ the constant  zero, which they felt I should accept. (Again, didn’t have a choice).

Early days, then,  I did not quite bother about dwelling into it further. But it lay dormant and then burst forth especially as my career progressed.

My metaphysical dives, I learnt later had its ebbs and flows. However, instead of following the lunar phases, it followed the Gregorian calendar. The live life king size phase started with the beginning of the month and by the month end, all questions of life, its meaning, my place in the world, the search for ultimate meaning would swarm strongly around. Answers were never found, for by then the salary would arrive and the no-worries phase would take over. The month-end philosopher was the norm.

Now  away from the rat race, I lay leisurely feet propped up on an easy chair, chatting with my friend Mr. Time, who too seems to be in no hurry and is equally happy to hang out with me. All those questions of life, who  am I?, what am I doing here?, what is the meaning of life, what is the ultimate answer, all constantly swamps me. ASCII 42, say some.  But there is no hurry, or even an anxiety to arrive at an answer. I will wait. My friend Time too is with me. The time will come, says Time.