This is what Life does. It lures you into existence with promises of Eros. Eros, that enables love and attachment, creation and creativity, survival and fulfilment. Eros, the harbinger of a magical life. But to keep you humble, Life infuses an equal measure of Thanatos, the instinct of death and destruction, of obstructions, of strife, and discontent. Thanatos will not let you live, and Eros won’t let you die. And you watch your life play out like a soccer ball being tossed between the mighty opponents, neither of which can be vanquished.

            So you are born with the capability to love, and be loved, with dreams of life like a Disney Movie – majestic castles, princes and princesses, happy endings that overcome the wicked witch. In a nutshell – happiness ever after. Life of an exquisite glass chandelier. As valuable. And as vulnerable. But Thanatos has other plans. Plans to obstruct; throw hurdles, to demolish the dreams of happiness ever after. Thanatos propels the destruction of the Exquisite Chandelier which comes crashing down, each shard scattered, broken, lost forever. You hide in terror, devastated in this clash of the Titans. The chandelier, your life, seems unsalvageable. It can never be put together again, you say. But the creative drive then orders you to sweep those pieces up and glue them back together to recreate the chandelier. It will never be the same, nor as perfect, but there will eventually be light illuminating the scars, Eros whisper hope. And you must heed that voice. You have to. What else would you do? Sworovsky may do hi-end replacement Chandeliers, but no one offers replacements to life.

            If, like me, you are stubborn, and refuse to take orders from Eros, you may spend eons in status quo, in mourning, in procrastination, stalling, refusing to rebuild, but remember this my friend, life is infinite, it veers into infinity, over lifetimes and in afterlives. It has all the time to outwait your stagnation.

            If, like me you eventually give up the obstinacy and begin rebuilding, piece by piece, this shattered chandelier of Life, remember,  my good friend, not to dream of forever happiness. Do not fly too close to the sun. The Disney castles incite Thanatos. For as soon as soon as you have pieced it all together, and just when you begin enjoying the flight, when your dreams open up the portal to forever happiness, the destruction will strike again, and you, my dear Icarus, will fall back to the ground – wings, chandelier and all. You may be disheartened and crushed. Why me? You may say, I will be unable to survive this, you may think. I want to die, you may tell yourself. But like a wonderful, nurturing mother, Eros will hold you and nurse you back into love of life, steering you into rebuilding, recreating. And you will, trust me, rebuild and recreate.

            There is no escape from this eternal cycle. And just when you rebuild and begin to believe that it will never happen to you again, you will again become aware of the transient nature of happiness, and of the frivolity inherent in the dreams of forever happiness. By then, you would have hopefully acquired a little more wisdom, a little more strength, and a little more acceptance of the rhythm of Life. 

            Life forces you into this circle, the circle of creation and destruction. Into impossibilities. Into corners and crevices that cramp you, where you lift loads that you never believed you were capable of. Where you slay the dragons that make you pee in your pants. With each cycle, the circle grows smaller. You become less stubborn, submitting to the will of the universe. You recover quicker, you create quicker and destroy even quicker all that you have created.

            This is what life does. It repeatedly tears you into inconsolable shreds of hopelessness, and you learn to cover all tears with scar tissues, developing muscles of patience. It buries you in the quagmire of helplessness so deep, for so long, that the only option you’re left with, is to become an enduring diamond that will not shatter. Life forges you into furnaces of trauma which you can only survive by transcending into resilience.  Each time, you die. Over and over again. And are resurrected as someone else. A stronger, richer, wiser version of you. Stranger to the one that had died before you were birthed in the new moment. And if you agree to die often enough, and if you are reborn often enough, someday, you hope, creation and destruction would lose meaning because you would have transformed to something beyond that. Our ancestors called it Nirvana, Moksha – sans the Disney Castles.