61. Deathrow High
Dissection time!
Had a female friend once in Ipoh who was two years older. She was in upper six when I was in form five. As a science student taking her STPM, she had to cut rats open for her practical papers. Thing is, she got hooked and made a bloody hobby out of it. Often, she commented how much the dissected rodents resembled animal versions of the crucifix. Like cheap imitation sold by street vendors trying to exploit religious festivals. Later, I heard, she got a little more experimental and started snipping scrotums to take a peep at the nuts inside. From reliable sources, I learned that it made her glee! In certain ways, she’s pretty psychotic…but no doubt, she’s now a practising surgeon. It’s scary when you are given a glimpse of doctors’ undergraduate lives…
Now back to my tale. As vowed, I would investigate the vivid swing of state. If my existence is a train in motion, and my goal is to advance from the (-) coach to the (+) coach, it’s my habitual trait, however, to stay wedged in the former compartment for a period too long, as I tend to stumble about the rocking and rolling condition of life’s movement. However, skip in a stimulant to lift my spirits and I unearth the inspiration to fight the drift and reach my positive objective temporarily. But then, due to the rule of decadence, I involuntarily fall backward to my perpetual pessimistic booth.
Nevertheless, came wee-morning Sunday and this fact was no more. Obliterated, like mysteries surrounding the paranormal disappearance of ancient civilizations that vanished without a trace. The distinction between the past and the present was a high so high it caught me in a state of flux.
I think this is a trait of life: happier people are sadder and average folk stay the same. What I’m trying to say is that a down-and-out luckless guy desires so much to taste euphoria, and when he does, a rush engulfs him; but certainly he can’t hold on to it forever because of his glum penchant, and the more meaningful the joy, the harder to make possession. The graph of my heart peaks and valleys in huge discrepancies till a basin appears in the middle. On the other hand, regular dudes inhabit flatlands – no need for ecstasy...becos no sorrow of pain.
This brings us to another perspective. The quest to cease from suffering no longer depends on the high but the plane. The higher I get the crazier I’ll become, for wider the difference will be from its lowest point. What more, to manage a severe rate of rapture requires maturity of a more evolved species. This, current human beings have not. It’s wiser, therefore, and more practical, to settle for the middle path preached by Buddha…not too happy, not too sad. Problem is once you have a fill of elevation, contentment becomes a bore. Besides, middle path ain’t easy to attain, so we might as well hop directly to the top!
AI generated art prompted by author
All characters and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental