The Heart of Yearnings

A dreary morning slipping into bleak nightfall; day after day. One cannot help but think:

“As soon as this ends…”

“As soon as I move out…”

“If only, I get that…”

“If only, my relationship were…”

Our eyes then crinkle with radiance, “…And I will be happiest soul; guaranteed!”

Necks strained, intoxicating gazes fixated on the highest gleaming golden tip of the snow-kissed mountain; perceiving it to be our final destination—bound to mercifully assuage infinite yearnings laid at the very bottom of our hearts that drizzle through every trudge, sigh and clench. Or, it may diluge—an outcry of enduring landslides and cold avalanches; and yet still, rises unannihilated.

Life, as they say—is like an ascend; with every being eyeing the top, Argus-eyed; for the highest peak overlooks the most splendid view—a view of awe while one lords above it all. An unmatched feeling of liberty.

The climb may be exhilarating; emitting a whiff of euphoria tugged by trepidation while swirls of failure, though not necessarily having vandalized the Heart of Yearnings just yet—lurks in the slithery gravel and frightening steepness. In fact, it magnifies after you and I conquer every apex and yet we aim to embark on the mission of lording the king of all apexes; only to realize shortly after that the “king” were overshadowed by a divine emperor—that which may be attainable; as is every ascend in life, but could it hush the quivering Heart of Yearnings—the infinite heart? For each view seems to lead to none other route but an inevitable descend; and the heart still remains empty—quivering for more; for better, forever.

Why is it that the descend may be far less laborious? Or, one could argue, why descend in the first place when the poor heart can only be quenched at the peaks?

Having lorded at the peak for what may seem like a fleeting moment, in comparison to arduous clambering followed by Augean encounters with demons within the dark pit of the heart—and then, finally mesmerized with that which lays below your feet for only a jiff; may seem as if injustice were done to each and every pleading yearning. Even more so amplified by the far less toiling descend. Disproportionate; rather disappointing is the road towards fulfillment.

Our saturnine eyes avert to the ground; downcast, we question and doubt the principles of the Universe as well as distrust Providence; for we need a blameworthy target to plaster our bleeding heart. If only we possessed the courage to rebuke the actual culprit, “Oh, my heart; was that not what you pleaded? Your yearnings seemingly diminish—only to later discover rapid regrowth followed by insuppressible thirst which consumes me!” 

So, it is natural for one to ask: is a Heart of Yearnings a curse? Does yearning lead to ineluctable doom? While you may expect a nod in the affirmative, brace yourself when you hear, “Certainly not!”

If only our aim were to revel the journey—pausing after every long climb and breathing in the fresh summer breeze; baptizing our eyes with equal splendidness around us in the deep greens of firs and abrupt scuttles of shy deer. The smell of wildflower and clucking of dragonfly against the foaming turquoise waterfalls; flickering bursts of color from fireflies after sundown amidst the enveloping darkness and calming quiescence, are all such views that can never be devoured from atop, can they? So why ascend mindlessly and strenuously, dead-set for the tip only when a portion of yearnings can satiate along the way? If only, if only we paused and embraced every embodiment of beauty that came along our way rather than blinking if off.

The climb may be exhilarating—yes, but only for the sake of the finish line; never the journey itself which is precisely why the poor heart remains unfilled, always. For the end result is transient— while the journey, if not enjoyed, can be tedious and monochromatic.

 

***

 

The Hedonic Treadmill states that people eventually bounce back to their baseline level of happiness—even after acquiring that long-wished goal of yours. Our Heart of Yearnings shall always pour; but we certainly do possess the ability to prevent it from overflowing by not just remaining dead-set on attaining a prestigious degree, perhaps, rather also allowing oneself the privilege of feeling wholesome amongst pleasant individuals or experiences which may cross one’s path during the academic year—rather than shutting them out and choosing only to beat brains. Our yearnings are, as a matter of fact, bound to remain undue should we only labor through efforts for that promotion without the thought of laboring in a way which could spike interest and fun; or else, our heart shall reject the advancement and deem it unworthy of painful efforts for ephemerality—as are all aspects in life. One may regard their beloved as the epitome of contentment—picturing their shared lives in perpetual bliss; but the joyful efforts in chasing it—if dispensed with unfeigned intentions is the main key to unrivaled limpid felicity rather than the attainment itself.

The Heart of Yearnings—if kept from inundating; is like a beatific river set towards unknown mesmeric sights that unveil themselves along the way, having never been discovered before by any man; unlike the destination aimed for which is known by the world to the very end of its depths.

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