Reason

un être sans raison reasoanble d'être

It has been close to a month since my last blog post. Well, 24 days to be precise. It is also the first time in the history of this blog that I've missed out a National Day post.  Its not that I've stopped carrying about the country. In fact, I feel even more for her as my roots sink deeper into the terra firma. Its also not that I've stopped bothering with posting, even though I know my readership has dwindled. So how do I account for the 24 days of absence? A severe case of jet lag was probably a large contributing factor coupled with a pretty hectic workload; pretty standard fare in this modern working day of ours. Which makes me all the more irate when I think of this 24 days of absence, with  much of the irritation directed at myself for not being able to keep everything in balance.  And life is really all about maintaining a balance, somewhat akin to a juggling act. All it takes is for one ball to be out of alignment or perhaps propelled with too much force and the whole act falls apart. But like a juggling act or a juggler rather, especially one who is juggling for a living, the whole spiel is relatively easy to resume again. I need to constantly remind myself that these small little things count; like how taking stock of life is as important as living life itself. The reason for being is as important as being. I console myself with the notion that the 24 days of absence, which will be clearly marked on this blog, speaks for itself. And in a way I guess I have made an entry in my little journal of life, albeit an intangible one. 

Stop

Closing in, here but not quite.


A chord from a Chopin piece. A line from Auden. The Takhallus from a Rumi Ghazal. Fading in and out as the day goes by. Interspersed by the sound of familiar laughter. And conversations from the past; recent and not so recent. I close my eyes. And there is silence, deep dark lasting silence. The kind that I so long for in my sleep; which now takes me to places I have been and places I imagined I have been. Until the walls start closing in. And I am back where I began. Back where I am. Back where I am? 

Church

Taking that one big step forward, together.


Love always requires a bit of 'damp-ear sixteen' foolishness. For we are all mere fools. And at the end of the day, its that little bit of folly that counts. 


"Yours etc. And then the newspaper drew even more attention to the sign-off by printing it: Yours &c... I used to muse about that. What did it mean? Where did it come from... Whereupon, as an ardent damp-ear of sixteen, I took to the parodic sign-off: Love, &c... Love, etc. The proposition is simple. The world divides into two categories: those who believe that the purpose, the function, the bass pedal and principal melody of life is love and that everything else - everything else - is merely an etc.; and those, those unhappy many, who believe primarily in the etc. of life, for whom love, however agreeable, is but a passing flurry of youth, the pattering prelude to nappy-duty, but not something as solid, steadfast and reliable as, say, home decoration. This is the only division between people that counts."
~Julian Barnes, Talking It Over