Stormbringer

They convinced him that the view from the thirteenth floor would be spectacular. They coaxed him to pay extra for the sea view. They were not lying for a line of blue was visible close to the horizon and on a clear day the thought the sea existing at a visible distance brought peace to his mind, which loved to be in turmoil at most times. The view, as they had said, was spectacular but not on this day. This day the sea was in turmoil and it exchanged angry words with the air above. They whooshed and swooshed at each other and wooooo of their exchange sounded eerie. The thirteenth floor seemed lonely and naked. At some point, the wind, as is usually the case, got emotional and started weeping. Anger merged with sadness resulting in tears. A blanket of wetness covered the earth. As droplets of water settled on the glass door, his view was obstructed. He opened the door and walked outside. He let the door remain open. The ever curious droplets entered the house and started running everywhere touching everything on its way. 

He stared at the wildly swinging trees below. They seemed to hypnotize him for he too started rocking back and forth to the beat of the swinging trees. His mind started wandering and he felt a slight breeze blowing at the back of his mind. He heard Perfect Circle's "Freedom of choice" in his mind.

Freedom of choice

Is what you got

Freedom of choice!

He preferred Perfect Circle's version of the song than the version by FuManchu or the original by Devo. The pleasantness of Maynard Keenan's voice did not hide the pain, anger and sadness. He wanted to go back and listen to the song but the swinging trees captivated him. He could not move and so he did not move. The breeze inside his head strengthened steadily. The song had not sneaked into his head out of nowhere. The seeds of the song were planted during the annoying two hour long meeting at his work. A circle of people talked about "Freedom". He did not take part in the discussion - neither did he talk nor did he listen. He heard voices and words but he did not have faith in most of them as he believed his colleagues had more regard for words and diction than their inherent meanings and actions. To make matters worse, they were discussing about the abstract and non-existent concept called freedom. He had struggled with the concept of freedom for many years. The many combination of beautiful words and sentences by men and women of greatness did not mean much to him. He could not determine freedom's meaning in the absolute sense and hence had thought it pointless to think about it. But the discussion that day brought it back to the fore.

The slight breeze in his mind had strengthened. He could not ignore it anymore. The winds were threatening to rake up a storm, inside and outside. The winds were now strong enough to push him away. He held onto the railing to maintain his balance. His eye hurt due to the impact of the droplets. He closed his eyes and listened to the strength of the wind and water. It cried and howled. Maybe it was trying to tell him something but his mind was busy minding the storm building inside. In the background, he realized that the song hand changed inside his head. John Garcia was chanting "Freedom Run" in an infinite loop. He let the chant continue and his mind latched on to the word "freedom". Words started flowing in. No! That's not right. Words started rushing in; if his mind was not preoccupied he would have been reminded of the song "Rosetta stoned".

Freedom is nothing but a word that like many other words have different meanings for different people at different times. All organisms on this planet is dependent on each other and on the planet itself and thus it is ridiculous to think of physical freedom. Pressure and gravity are the greatest enemies of physical freedom. Unfortunately, our existence depends on these two entities and so we have no choice but to accept our physical bondage. Freedom of the intellect is more complicated. Humans really do not understand what constitutes intellect and thus it is ridiculous to talk about it and its freedom. Ironically, freedom can only exist within the four walls of the intellect. We can think what we want without worrying about right and wrong, good and bad, beautiful and ugly, black and white and similar opposites. I have the freedom to think what I want. In theory, no one has the power to stop me from thinking about anything. But reality is never so straight. Humans quickly realized the danger posed by the freedom of intellect for they guessed, rightly, that freedom of action would follow and this would result in people doing what they want. To counter this possibility humans created organizations - kingdoms, castes, professions, religions and educational institutions. These organizations are all based on control of thought. We are made to believe that there are good thoughts and actions and bad thoughts and actions. The organizations help us to move away from bad thoughts and actions and in the process make us good. We end up believing that it is a sin to even let certain thoughts enter our heads. We end up controlling our own thoughts and force us to restrict our own freedom.

The winds had pushed him away from the railing. He carefully walked back to the door. He entered the apartment and closed the door. Everything in the room was wet. He looked out and through the wet glass noticed the fallen trees. The winds carried leaves and other debris everywhere. The peace and calmness of the land was lost. The storm continued to rage and it seemed it would never end. The glass on the doors shook vehemently. They seemed to screaming "We can't take this anymore. We will give in for sure. We cannot take care of you any longer". He did not hear the scream. Unlike the storm outside, the storm in his brain had subsided. It had scattered debris across his mind. Old and hidden wounds lay exposed. The storms made his head hurt. He sat on the wet sofa and let the cold and wet seep in through his cold and wet clothes.  He held his aching head in this palms and thought.

When a storm passes through a town it is left in shambles. A brainstorm has a similar effect on our mind.