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AI an absurd awakening

Awry is me. And askew is thee! Together we shall do better if we think of this as a jamboree😊

By Madhu Goteti Published 10 months ago • Updated 10 months ago • 16 min read
Awry is me while askew is thee!

Routine event of the day: I sit šŸŖ‘ down to write āœļø …

What emerges: the following.

It seems like an adventurous roller coaster šŸŽ¢ ride.

One thing leading into another. An absurd awakening, indeed!

Awry is me. And askew is thee! Together we shall do better if we think of this as a jamboree😊

Co-commonly conjoined and sometimes amply carried forward ā€œalone,ā€ these are the ways in which we assail life.

Indeed, that certainly calls for qualities to deal with this world, regardless of swimming or sinking in it as some downtrodden tit.

Hugely crouched over tetra-shields, life can be as unpredictable as any other titanic ship. For that reason, I have always needed the near -perfect nuance of poetry in my speech.

Precisely so, off hand or rather, off censored, you might find me musing very badly šŸ˜….

Awkwardly absurd ! So be it!

Yeah that’s the absurd reality I was born into aeons ago and I have remained in it, ever since.

It’s like I was dealt with a hand of cards šŸƒ that ended up as precious leavings.

Conditions like this might not fit you well, I know. But do absurdly adjust if you will (by any chance,) relish this piece and end up feeling swamped in it.

So, where was I ?

āḄ húñ!

Now listen šŸŽ§..very carefully to this verbiage —a potpourri as I prefer to call it . Use your utter discretion before you collectively resonate or disqualify it in entirety. It’s up to you !

This is an ā€œAlchemy of my mind,ā€ seeking to rightly fit into the world of vagaries. I am scribing šŸ“ this—ebbing out of the cradle passage after rising from the big deep sleep. This tale accumulates the past, as though , its a drawn onwards journey, much as much, to arrive at an equally transient —present. As if, those solemn formative years, tenderly shaping many untellable identities beyond the grave.

And well into Supra terrains of adulthood, I am left to think—those were the days!

But life ,how-so-ever, is seemingly a product of our own creative imagination with no interest whatsoever to gloat on the gut issues. But I do! That’s the awry in me for you to peruse.

And I say this with gratitude šŸ™ as I slowly sink ( along with you,) into this deep meditative sleep ā€¦šŸ’¤šŸ˜“šŸ›Œ

Writing does this to me. It puts me in a meditative trance ….

Follow along …

It all seemsĀ like an other worldly scene;

a slumber serene,

Wherein,Ā existenceĀ switches thro’ newĀ realmsĀ ofĀ quiveringĀ gleams

Yet again, every now and then ,

ā€˜T’sĀ the palm found wanting, with nothing fitting in between.Ā 

Thro' and thro,Ā therein,

There’s a neverĀ ending spielĀ of infinity tied to a stream,

And trancing upon mighty pulses and,

sunken upon some timed machines,

Yes, I dare to look within!

Of muted races rushed to gleams

all beside each other in full-fledged swaying schemes

For onto those thresholds of innocence lain,

Could there be a soul seeing triumph of things

And around those many ranged reasons lining up to mien

Let me praise dutifully, knowing all reasons to sing…

For those fated wings oft chasing around faith, to be inimitably seen,

Like two words constantly gliding, yet lingering in fresh breaths of fresher greens

O glad!

Swift to spell here comes another evergreen,

conjuring a dual throbbing with e’ery pant ( not this šŸ‘– ) swelling and roaring in between

O look!

A silent signal lamps šŸŖ” to swing

For that muse coming by gusting thro’ the winds,

Floating around a convulsive spirit, yet ā€œarriving,ā€ as it seems!

Now, hovering here and towering there

Here comes another basking-surrealistic dream

Certainly, thisĀ matterĀ isĀ aboutĀ an ephemeral gleam -

While it calls out a prelude to this timely serene

Like a holy descend upon precious things

Yes, a Dream—coming (again, keep a straight mind 😊,) with a fluid force technically attached,

and going along to hold the following:

Aqua Fortis : a cogent thought, flash floating across in an alchemy;Ā cuddling its own brains, andĀ heeding to view a

(distinctly) Ā castedĀ indomitable scheme…

Yeah it’s all —  a Dream

There,Ā at length, comesĀ another sealy scheme, night after night,

blanketingĀ over a languorous preen,

As if to roll out— everything—scene by scene…

There un fledged , until the break of the dawn, spreading and sprawling all over those greens ;

now and then, just-Ā halting,Ā 

but, swooning to wait and then fondle upon dangerous diems

Along those virtuoso streetsĀ where embersĀ dim,

And where all seems to merge towards that unspoken mean

With one brief of halt and a tweak of the twinge

Here —belies another theme !

But, in there—somewhere—lies that great beginning —O that, of which one ā˜ļø must ascend to leap towards heavens in that ultimate awakening !

A scheme ... nay… O something that drives tender aching or for that limitless soothing,

to tell its own reasons —O to yield —sweet awakenings !

Yes , life is a dream ...

swoosh ā˜ļø it appears and phoooof it shall disappear …just like a Casper’s blinkā€¦šŸ™ šŸ§”āœØšŸ¦‹ā˜•ļø

Look!Ā Over there !

It's a conception bornĀ inĀ a nakedĀ mind'sĀ steed, but fully redeemed,

but, as to theĀ visible, it shall illumine everyĀ other abysmalĀ beam !

There, in those realms, a remembranceĀ strikes all in a repeating scene,

holdingĀ out ofĀ hidingsĀ ,asĀ though,Ā 'twas some fondestĀ temptation—O very keen

But….

There’s nothing much to take to heart in all those scenes…

Coz, it was just—all in a dream!

Note this …

Allegedly, I have been a pro @ saying something and coming off as another. šŸ˜…Be-aware!

Yes, I have been totally super illustrative; never near nor ever far at saying anything precisely. The tragic frugality of being so has earned me nothing but —peculiar predicaments.

O yes! I could be hyper superlative to the fiercest extent. All the better, and reconciled so, I c’d be taken together as the ā€œoneā€ or merely brushed off as ā€œotherwise.ā€ Just as much—lost in meaning, I could be lamented upon as :

ā€œjack of all trades and jill of none—a reparative anomaly of not doing anything perfectly, so to believe!ā€

Additionally, repartitioning( courtesy- global entourage) has led me to this:

I can easily fit into anything but be exactly fine with not fitting at all. Now don’t imagine ā€œscrew.ā€ šŸ˜… That’s where the fairest prospect and desire of living absurdly creeps in . And in all that a darn thought must leap up as a spurt of bright lightening. And TBH ( to be honest) mounted upon light: one can see just enough peace to awaken.

Alongside all this stuff, there’s another lightening, (when it comes to bear us,) which silences and makes us stare at nothing 🄹.

The dearest, all too dear, among all happenings thence is the brightest action, done unconsciously, and yet it brings everything to light much later in life. Long has it been since I experienced such a specter. As matters stood, the grace of sleep once had a troubling influence when it went awry and it got mixed up to have its way into exploring divinity.

Some delightful experiences of childhood,exist as splendors of sunshine ,and stick on, to spark memories, that c’d have gotten lost in sleep. Today I recalled that ā€œyesterday,ā€ to fit into the context of this entry : absurd awakening.

And when I recalled it, I was truly surprised at what it promised to bring —A reawakening!

A reminder of a sight that may seem strange but it’s there to teach something. Here’s an iconic stepping, back in time, when I fell (unexpectedly) into a narcoleptic trance —only to realize that the levity in it took its due course and threw me in a strange direction.

Gravely, if you think that there’s everything good in being adamantly curious, then I would say —not always.

Main Core thought šŸ’­ behind this writing āœļø:

>>>The matter of earning holy vision can be confusing. If one allows the endless mind to receive all offerings as grand deliverances then one better be ready for a roller coaster ride.

Also, no doubt, if teachings and prayers change hands šŸ™Œ, divinity c’d work in the unknown. And, for some, finding the pathways of grace can be very quizzical. An enigma for sure.

Since childhood if creativity and caliber were to gauge me on a platform of spiritual progress, I w’d come off as— ā€œlong gone.ā€ Almighty seldom clearly gave a true account of my spirit. I was possessed to the grace of others, as if, sought for the wanderings, and to that point, offered to the noble scorn.

Duller critics could give hoodwinks but taint was to paint its wits —brighter than bright, all over me, by all means.

Herein, I dare to share one of the most crucial incidents of my childhood which —certainly —shocked me. Transference of a similar phenomena into adulthood become electrifying. Now if you ask me about this requirement error then I would say —it was to happen. Fate!

Know this!

A bit of a prologue before I descend into the actual scene.

Have you šŸ‘‚ heard of THE ā€œhi-fi šŸ‘‹ psi phenomenon,ā€ that’s non-local in ā€œawareness.ā€ That phenomena has been ME, ever since. It’s like night embracing itself to contain the light in it. šŸ‘ˆšŸ½ That’s the rhetoric claiming my life story as I became intuitively analytic 🧐about it. It’s a matter of defining me as me, and in all that, an absurdist tale emerges with its own varied characterizations.

This is a style of narrative, not totally autobiographical, yet addends with a piece of my memoir, rudimentary in shaping me. For the most part, and for all the practical purposes, this episode depicts an absurdist AWAKENING—literally. Call it a comedy of errors ( if you may please,) as its nature of philosophy claims a distinctive view in me. The question it poses is precisely this : Who am I ,actually! And —How c’d I arrive at this juncture of life —in one single piece; intact, hale and heartily.

My childhood:

It wasn’t anything like going —straight up into the conclaves of ā€œWinnie the Pooh,ā€ kinder-kin’ parties, most dutifully.

Rather , nostalgia of carefree rural living haunts me. I can exemplify the merits of its grace through these writings. That has been my forte, ever since.To me it seems like a composite way of feeling all societal and political correctnesses.

With that stated, another preferred version of bonding with people is writing surrealistic poems.

Unendurably, I sought these pastoral hobbies as an alternative to Marching straight up towards the exact sameness of ā€œMarch Madnesses.ā€

So as of today, scripting a muse is appealing to me because ā€œthat ,ā€ is an end in itself , registering my inward looking eye.

And for the bewitching 🤩 mind, every matter becomes nakedly stark as it is or as is presented — sagaciously, without anyone touching , without any wind blowing it ( ā€˜to obscurity, ) and without anyone moving a finger over it. Something like —one and the same registering its own senses, and in that quiet of the ā€œ HESYCHASM,ā€ everything becoming familiar with its own surroundings. In that sense, I look at sleep, dream and awakening as the very ground of a democratic vision gradually unfurling where we are one ā˜ļø and the same in that empty bed (of time and space,) paying sober attention ( as if in a hermitage, ) to go weary, then stand up , at times pray and finally sit down again to courageously take up the task of the thoughts steering the flow of our lives. A yearning —I suppose— to overcome all other challenges to arrive at that big smile 😊

A fantasy, like in a heartbeat, tries to make us go along its illusiveness and that can happen in a dream.

And like it is said: The descent of mind into the heart, only with the difficulty that it descends on its own.

So a hermitage can also be seen as an innocent escaping into the vagaries of mind ( not oblivion per se) to enter, share and/ or choreograph dreams alongside the oneiric lives that we weave together.

Now, just imagine, good many years ago getting electrocuted,much more like a tad at a time, when I mistakenly šŸ”‘ keyed into a hole —thinking it would unlock the mysteries of the other-world.

Some may say ā€œCuriosity,ā€ eh! Yeah, it kills But in my case it killed the neighbors cat šŸ±ā€”And I for one, lurked as some good ole bark, larking amid the sooty darks, beguiled by the possibility of virtuous splendor, towering me one ā˜ļø day. So that happened and a grander picture elevated my misplaced fate and brought me to the present.

Now, splash some water on face and continue reading …

I have always loved ā€œ every day works,ā€ and tried to piece everything together -word by word, as it came together in one sitting.

Not having to wrestle with everyday hustle of coming across strangenesses and thereby constructing meaningful experiences to take their🫔 respectful best. That’s my forte ever since.

For example : taking a metal and shoving it into an electrical outlet and thinking it would unlock mysteries of the other side …could that be worldly wise eh! A postulate —true or untrue —yet a paradoxical construct to draw upon reality versus šŸ†š me in entirety.

All this because I wanted to be a surprise witness to that ā€œpsi-fi phenomena.ā€

One night, I remember listening to a bedtime story šŸ‘µ wherein my grandma said —something of a kind happening behind the temple doors. A magical phenomena if the doors were to be opened at night. That was it! I wanted to open it to know . That literally stuck in my head. A bolted thought šŸ’­ construing its own predatory proprietary.

Grandma, (however, )didn’t say much nor expand on that subject matter any further. But that was enough for my curiosity to spark āš”ļø and a strange kind of neural circuitry doted me in every action and each reaction. A unique supposition took its root.

I needed to prove my mettle and come off as amply BRIGHT among friends and foe, I suppose!

To that, I imagined a surreal surrender into the light. I visualized getting wrapped in sheets of lightenings and hoped for miracles, (if any,)to save me as I dared to open the temple doors.

The story stuck in my mind and I went into bed, as though, it was a sort of a dreamy vision to be immediately explored.

Unforeseen, it all seemed like a mêlée, generating an inexplicable ruckus reaction; almost like unease setting in me.

My grandma’s house was located adjacent to a temple and every night we were ushered into sleep with a warning finger on the lips ,as and when, the evening temple bells šŸ”” rang to mark the end of the day. Those days 8:00 pm was considered late night.

No doubt, we had to be in our best behavior —in bed šŸ›Œ and off to sleep. And while chasing thoughts in utter pleasure, I solemnly proceeded to tuck myself in bed along with my sisters and cousins.

Then, this happened. I shall never forget that night. It was about 3:00 am in the early hours when I got up to attend to nature’s call. Now imagine a village setting. We used to sleep on the open terrace with night skies as our rooftop.

Watching those constellations moving across the night skies was intriguing.

You don’t get that sort of an ambiance nowadays. So one of those nights, I decided to quietly sneak out and cross past the cobbled streets towards the temple. On course, I made a point of stealing a metal piece from the village contractors heap of tools ā€˜stacked near the temple doors. They were left there for temple renovations. But for me it was an arsenal to ward off stray animals en route to the fields and then onwards to the temple subsequently.

Ushered in the presence of the dim street lamps, I took the metal strip and headed towards the fields — open bogs.

A few hound dogs šŸ• chased me around and I found myself dropped off at the temple door. I had passed the ā€œpass.ā€

I roamed freely in sleep and the grunts of the quadrupeds continued to goad me further on.

Adding a pleasant tilt , I peed and quickly ambled towards the temple door thinking it was grandma’s house. Yes, I was sleep walking .

I must have been roughly 5 -6 years old. For some strange reason ( in sleep) I hefted the metal piece and tried drilling the door with the hope of waking elders. All mixed up thoughts . I know! And somehow , it occurred to me that the elders of the household were still up and laughing over some conversations. But they couldn’t pay any heed.

At that moment, something absurd happened. All of a sudden dark clouds came forth and I found something had gone wrong. I had gotten it all wrong.

Mistakenly, I had gotten my fingers into a plug in the wall.

To make its best case in a manner of devotion, I had made my own supposition. Out of that came—askew.

The ghoulish curiosity in me had explored another sight. Almost in a devotional duty, I pulled out a plug in the wall and was standing up to deep down REM state. I was in a half asleep and half awake state.

A door creaked open and I waddled in.

Call it a sort of a folly or something else but I literally took to it. It was like blessings of freedom, pulling off its own new stunt in a rather — ominous manner. Momentously, I stuck the metal stick in hand through a socket in the wall. My best effort boomed back at me in a unique manner.

My imagination ran wild 😜 reeking bombazine, with the hope to harness a ā€œmarvel,ā€ rolling out of that action. Immediately, I conked out —immediately thrown on the mattress in the backyard. I flew half way in mid air. The intensity of electric current hit me hard. All this was privy to others in the household as nobody knew about it.

Moments later , I literally fainted and everybody assumed that I had slept off there. One by one , whoever crossed past me, patted me and soothed me to sleep in an act of cajolery. My whimpering coos were adjusted as sleep talks and walks. To all that , I moaned , groaned and howled for quite sometime, indeed!

Today , I may say, I kinda stood still in sleep!

And like almost all zzzzs, with some extra ZZzZZzzz’s striking out into sheer shrieks, I was successful in deafening my grandma’s ears, in deeds.

So quoting from a retrospective journal and chronicling this horror from the past is a sort of total recall of ā€œgraceā€ for sure.

I was always much beyond and if the grand ole grace were to ever bump into me, it w’d find me triumphing out of reach in blatant patisches.

If I were to ever write āœļø ( scribble more precisely,) a book šŸ“• of revelation about this , then it could be seen as being laid aside or forgotten easily because I was being me.

So in that way I was in a dream and woke up to it thinking šŸ’­ where is the awe 🫢 of wisdom in it.

Clearly ,I was not , as you may want to know , the wise Alec.

I was meant to be rumpling around to make my own new discoveries .

>>>My take on life :

1. Civil n courteousness behavior must be practiced as per the situational needs

2. Planing to do or not to do anything is more natural to the context .

šŸ”‘ Key point :

Loving humanity but flabbergasted by the ā€œevent-horizons,ā€ emerging as an ultimate apocalyptic awakening while I deep diving into many oblivious mysteries. For example: the geopolitical conflicts and the emerging conflicts , economies, policies, and the varied diplomacies.

And where’s Evolution in this … huh …taking a roller coaster šŸŽ¢ ride !

Everybody is seemingly evolving as a by-product of grace and coming off —thorough —through rigorous tests of time.

A process, I suppose, while being exposed to sundowns plaintively to grits know-hows a bit early unexpectedly šŸ˜‚.

who am I …. Really …. The real real truth scavenger. That’s psi-phi-philosophy for me ….

Conclusion: There’s nothing in it … big laugh šŸ˜‚ eh! Hehe

Bingo logic : Sheer waste of time because nothing is purely for one entity to keep….

That’s why it’s better to believe:

One ā˜ļø is just a conduit for something that repeals from the known to unknown or Vice versa.

Truly , Where’s pride or ego in it ?!

So here’s where the postulate lies 😜 : —-awry is me —working and applying this one rule of thumb when in reality it doesn’t exist nor function that way.

One to many and conversely many to one stratagem— both equally šŸ˜…is an attribute that keeps varying in degrees and contexts.

Mind mapping is going ghory!

Surmise: —- In the gestle-vestal gestaltian way the ā€œPhilosophy of life ,ā€ works in a Philharmonic way.

Studying šŸ“š this ā˜ļø: acutely and intently with the realization anything and everything goes with it 🤪The crucial qualifier for life :

Question: What is essential or inessential in defining /refining/ reflecting these reflexive ways of living Answer: it’s grace ?!

And , what if — cock and bull are :

1. Medians and modes with bell curves hanging in hell and heaven simultaneously

Seeing this differently ….

Aeeee! Get this!

I am postulating /witnessing the entropy of coincidences especially in this new age of thinking and doing. Has it has arrived?!

Yes , the age of AI is an absurd reality we are being awakened to, already! Where will consciousness belie?

That’s my question šŸ™‹šŸ»ā€ā™€ļø to you šŸ«µšŸ¼

AI .. isn’t it an absurd awakening!

Life in ā€œevery-which- way,ā€ is becoming more and more like an early example of a comet striking , and also something like an electron invisibly-visible in its entirety. A mystery!

If you don’t agree with it then …

Awry shall be me !

And Askew shall be you !

Don’t know what to say nor construe of this grace but it surely has been showered upon all , universally.

Ā© āœ Madhu Goteti ,March 20th, 2025

ComedicTiming

About the Creator

Madhu Goteti

The thrums in the strums and the delights in the humdrum of life have always fascinated me.

It’s that feast of reason and flow of soul; in all that I see and all that I shall behold!

I am an avid lover of art and philosophy!

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  • Test10 months ago

    This is really a wild and beautiful journey! It's part memoir, part poetry, part philosophical musing, and wholly unique. I loved the playful honesty of, "Allegedly, I have been a pro @ saying something and coming off as another. šŸ˜…Be-aware!" You skillfully blend humor, reflection, and a touch of the surreal, creating a captivating, if eccentric, read.

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