-The cosmopolitan
ہزاروں خواہشیں ایسی کہ ہر خواہش پے دم نکلے
بہت نکلے میرے ارماں مگر پھر بھی کم نکلے
Such are my countless yearnings, that each desire takes the breath away,
Each longing that I stave off, only makes me crave for more no doubt!
(A famous verse from the poem of Mirza Ghalib, a renowned poet hailing from the Indian Subcontinent)
Man’s wish to be immortal while being a mortal is the existential crisis he is born with, and wanting to achieve that freedom, he shall spend a lifetime consumed by how to make himself free from the bondage of time, age, and/or disease. Generations have passed in the pursuit of such aspirations, sometimes finding, sometimes losing, in search for that which is unattainable, and yet the quest thrives. And so, men become lost trying to be found, such is the predilection we have all inherited making us restless beyond belief in our pursuits to give meaning to our lives, sometimes lost in the wonders of the world, at times dis-eased and most of the time disillusioned, tired out, giving in to our realities from whence there is no escape.
Tuberculinums are those mystified souls that cannot seem to find any repose from the tumult within, resultantly they are in a state of motion, seeking change avoiding stasis. Their mind and body already seems to feel trapped by their realities, needing an escape from the static state within, they roam. So, the outdoors become their great asylum, for they need to breathe, and the constricted breath is the bane of the one afflicted by the disease this nosode stems from. Breath is life, moving without restrictions is how it renews the body, but the coughing and wheezing patient of tuberculosis, struggling for breath, feels as restrained as the mind of the Tuber which is highly troubled by any unwanted control. The Tuber needs to move like the wind, that flows from one region to another without any hinderances that will bind it, so is he constituted to be in a state of motion, traveling making new connections yet running from the old, never wanting what he already has but running after that which he doesn’t, before he himself runs out of time. The Tuber is like the breath that gives life only when it moves through the body, enlivening it, but where does this breath hail from, no one knows, our home is what gives us a sense of belonging, but if there were no place you felt at home what then…
Tuberculosis was known as the disease of the migrants, but who are the migrants really? They may be people who have left their homelands either made to leave by force or of their own accord in search of opportunity, in both cases there is a sense of either a want to go back to where they belong or a search for a place where they belong. There is a certain conditioning that entails such persons, which is rooted in their restlessness, and it could be what they were born with or something that they acquired but were always predisposed to. There is a wish to make new connections at one end but not without the burning out and destruction of the old on the other end. Abound with these wishes they shall be consumed by them, the whole system wants too much, too soon, in much abundance, and so the wind becomes the tornado that destroys everything in its path, the breath that restores becomes obstructed following a destruction of the vitals. Like a cancer the mind creates desires that stifle the growth and nourishment of everything around them, until all is devoured.
“My connection with the past has been destroyed; therefore, I seek the new and kick the old.”
~Misha Norland (Signatures, Miasms, AIDS – Spiritual Aspects of Homeopathy)
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