I asked what this existence is,
And my green towel that hung on the hook
became a stranger
it was not my towel anymore
what is a towel existentially, what are these other things? I looked around
All things around me had become not familiar now
Very new, more than new
as if I had seen them for the first time
as if I had just come into existence
as if I had never known about existence before
I stepped out of my bathroom in the towel
as water droplets continued to slide down from the hair
Clothes, which I had put out to wear, had now become only fabric
What is fabric anyways I thought
Instead of the usual wearing of the clothes,
I stepped outside in the balcony
everything had become an existential question:
the green plants that had been growing well
the grey weather that had been drizzling for a while now
the yellow fire beneath the shelter that a man at a distance took warmth in
the invisible breeze that touched my bare chest
the etheric sky above the clouds
What are these? I cried.
I came back inside my room
dropped the towel down to wear the fabric when
I noticed my hands. What are these? How do they exist?
Branching out into ten that are called fingers and thumbs
very similar to the part that is called the feet
At a very slow pace, I curiously scanned my entire body
the knees, the thighs, the buttocks,
the penis, the testicles, the belly, the arms, then
I became aware of the eyes, the nose, the ears, and the mouth
then came the muscles and the bone structure part
further, all the organs one by one
What is this all, I thought.
I came in the hall where my family was
four people, my father, mother, sister, and her husband
Who are they? Who created our shared relationships?
Slowly, the feeling of attachment towards them dissolved within my mind
we had sat down for breakfast and I questioned again
What is food existentially? And as I took four pieces of sliced bread,
I asked the same question for numbers, then for words and alphabets
the same alphabets that had created words for the philosophies I used to have for my life
but now they had become philosophies of the so far
Love which has no reason is the purest
I would say
but now I ask
what is love existentially?
why is there something like love in the first place? And,
where did it come from?
Dream which has no reason is our true calling
I would say
but now I ask
what is calling existentially?
why is there a calling in the first place? And,
where did it come from?
What is life but the present moment in motion
I would say
but not anymore
There was no philosophy left to live my life by, absolutely none
what is philosophy but an approach carved out of thoughts, I thought
and then one thought led to another and a question which felt destined
to arrive, finally arrived. It felt as if each thought only led me
to this question: what is a thought?
Further, what is mind where a thought arrives
I wondered for quite a while and,
at a steady pace, all thoughts had begun to calm down
and the mind journeyed towards thoughtless beingness
I had become desireless
And with no desire, I had become purely content within myself
it was good
But well, then again, just like any other thing in existence,
what is being content anyways