The Art to Move On

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Today was my MBA’s first term final exam and it went well in one way or another. There are always some gossips about stuff before and after such exams. I and my friends have this little tradition, we used to get out of the examination hall and actually took a couple of minutes to send all the unnecessary data of the past exam to our minds recycle bin.

I have always been complaining about how I forget things, how I forget my friend’s birthdays, the times we threw each other parties and such normal stuff. Somehow my brain succeeds in keeping the important stuff craved onto the surface of my memory. When such things grasp attention, it feels like it happened very recently. Happens to everyone, I guess and probably everyone wants to move some of these troublesome cravings to the recycle bin.

We all make a model of the world around us, with humans as our objects and expected behaviors as our constants of the equation. Constants are not supposed to change at all, under any condition but when they do, the model gets disturbed, mind’s system gets confused and impulses cease to operate for a while. Reviewing of the system starts and the outcome is the difference factor of ‘how things should be’ and ‘how things actually are’.

Time passes, we move on but this gets carved on the memory. That is when I wish I could get together with friends to take a couple of minutes to move this unnecessary data to the recycle bin but then I realize that I neither can forget it nor do I want to, deep inside. And that is when I realize, out of this bitter experiment time and again that the art to move on is not the art to remember rather it’s the art to forget.

Starting Over

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Everyday we wake up, get ready and get it all done. Someone referred to the best thing about life saying that it comes one at a time. After years, when i combine the day to day steps and all the bits of successes i have made, it all gets blurry. It all gets messed up like a piece of art you rather prefer to paint over once again than to make changes to make it better. That piece of art for me, fortunately or unfortunately, is me life that came to me saying,” Let’s start over.”