SiLeNCe

"I'm not judging you," he said. "We're not here to sit in judgement. We're here simply because you're here. We're present wherever you go; we are what you do. When you raise your eyes to Heaven we share in their sight; when you pat the head of a hungry child a thousand hands are laid on his head; when you give bread to a beggar we give him that taste of paradise which only the poor can savour. Why are we silent? Because silence is not only our dwelling-place but our very being as well. We are silence. And your silence is us. You carry us with you. Occasionally you may see us, but most of the time we are invisible to you. When you see us you imagine that we are sitting in judgement upon you. You are wrong. Your silence is your judge."

(from Dawn by Elie Wiesel)

mEmoRieS

Memories. They scare you or they surprise you.

And memories. They always shape you.

LifE

A scavenger scavenges, out of reflex not of deliberation.

A dog wags his tail, perhaps because he likes you.

A baby chuckles and reaches up to touch your face, trusting you with all of her being.

A dark cloud covers the sun, momentarily blocking the heat on your back.

I see life – it is grey
I hear life – it is cacophonous
I taste life – it is bittersweet
I smell life – it is burnt
I feel life – it is heavy

dEaTh

Death. No matter what form it comes in, is always a new experience.

Every death that you encounter, is different from the other. Because so much of it is predicated upon the relationship you had with the person who died. How long have you known the person, what is the depth of your friendship with that person, what are the memories you hold of that person.

And death. No matter what form it comes in, is never easy.

fUzZy

It is cool tonight. It has been raining the whole day. There is something about cold nights that make them particularly wistful. Like the sharp edges of life are smoothed over by the downpour. And things feel fuzzy. Nice fuzzy.

Curl-up-with-a-good-book-and-teddy-bear kind of fuzzy.

Lounge-on-the-sofa-holding-a-cup-of-hot-chocolate kind of fuzzy.

Lie-in-bed-and-dream-stardust-dreams kind of fuzzy.

Submerge-yourself-in-your-favourite-music-and-forget-everything-else kind of fuzzy.

Or just enjoying the breeze that comes with a cool night like this.

I have realized, often, it is these simple little things in life that make the difference.

i FoRgoT

I sat by the playground today and ruminated. While the kids around me played on wooden horsebacks and oil drums and chattered excitedly. It was a chaotic morning. But a nice kind of chaos. The kind of chaos where you are so caught up in the moment you forget everything else for a while. And forgetting is good. Even if for a while.

I think we should all adopt this habit of taking a few moments off everyday to just forget about everything. There is so much our mind needs to handle it’s a wonder our brains all haven’t just toppled over in exhaustion.

So I think, consciously making yourself forget things is important. It’s what they teach in yoga or meditation, right? To empty your mind, to hold still and just breathe. To reach the path of enlightenment – Nirvana, as they call it.

Because forgetting can be empowering.

fRaGmEnTS oF 3

Silhouettes. Shadows. Sinuous.
Dark. Depressing. Dangerous.
Sad. Sombre. Sullen.
Void. Vacant. Violent.

This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

BaLLet LeSsOnS

In ballet there is a very interesting theory of opposites at work. While keeping your butts squeezed firmly in the direction of the ground, you are supposed to pull up the muscles from your toes to ankles to calves to knees to thighs. And while keeping your shoulders down, you are supposed to pull your body up straight and tuck your tummy in and hands held out and hold your head up high.

Ballet is an exacting science. It calls for a lot of discipline, both mentally and physically.

And I suppose, we can learn a little of ballet skills in life. That when we are at the high pointe in our life, we remember to remain firmly rooted to the ground. And the opposite is also true then. That when life drags us down and out, we remember to pull ourselves together and chin up.

It’s all your choice. You have got the wings, now where do you want to fly to?

TeLLiNg sToRiEs

"Does that change things?" asked the old man. "Maybe Anansi's just some guy from a story, made up back in Africa in the dawn days of the world by some boy with blackfly on his leg, pushing his crutch in the dirt, making up some goofy story about a man made of tar. Does that change anything? People respond to the stories. They tell them themselves. The stories spread, and as people tell them, the stories change the tellers. Because now the folk who never had any thought in their head but how to run from lions and keep far enough away from rivers that the crocodiles don't get an easy meal, now they're starting to dream about a whole new place to live. The world may be the same, but the wallpaper's changed. Yes? People still have the same story, the one where they get born and they do stuff and they die, but now the story means something different to what it meant before."

(from Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman)

sUsPiCiONs

I suspect, in some deep-seated corner of my mind, I long to be in the spotlight. Not for myself, that would be too selfish, but for my self. This being that inhabits me, who thinks thoughts and feels feelings.

I suspect, at some inner-gut level, I hope this blog will land me the spotlight. Not for how many entries there are, that would be too shallow, but for the souls it touches. The people who read this, who smile a little smile or nod a little nod or tear a little tear.

I also suspect, I am both a selfish and shallow person.

Get me some champagne, we’re celebrating dEliRiuM’s 100th post today! Yay!!

wAiTiNG

Waiting, is frightening. The tens of hundreds of worst-case scenarios that thunder their way through your mind.

Waiting, is worrying. The tens of hundreds of unanswered questions that chase one after the other.

Waiting, is reflective. The tens of hundreds of seconds or minutes where you are completely focused on just this waiting.

Waiting, is painful. The tens of hundreds of times you turn the blame onto yourself and beat yourself up.

Waiting, is panic. The sheer terror that rises from deep inside you and grabs you by the throat and threatens to tear your world apart.

Yet waiting, is also gentle. It teaches you patience. It teaches you fortitude. It teaches you resilience.

Waiting, is sometimes bittersweet. Like clicking open an email from your ex- whom you have not heard from for months.

Wait. We wait. We all wait. We all wait together. For the same thing.

Do we wait in fear, or hope, or hurt, or do we wait in grace?

fAiRy RiNg

I followed my own trail to the playground today, and I met seven fairies sitting in a ring. Their voices played like harp in the wind. And I stood there watching, seven beautiful gentle fluttering fairies sitting in a ring.

When was the last time you visited the playground of your mind? When was the last time you took a piece of clay in your hand and turned it into a safari jungle full of your favourite animals? When was the last time you stared at pieces of Lego blocks and saw grand castles and sturdy bridges that led you to the beautiful princess trapped in the tower? When was the last time you drew a picture of mummy and daddy and you and brother and sister holding hands as one big happy family?

How quickly we forget. And how sad.

hAve YouR cAKe & Eat iT

Co-existence. Is something I have been thinking about a lot these couple of days.

How things relate to one another. Like the interactions of colleagues in a company. Or the grooves of the gears fitting snugly together.

How we connect with one another. Like the friendships that last through the years. Or the precision of the changing of guards outside the palace.

The six degrees of separation. Which leaves us with 354 degrees of non-separation, of relation, of connection.

That sometimes, our choices do not have to be mutually exclusive. That sometimes, we can embrace the best of both worlds.

While my friend says she can peacefully co-exist with cockroaches, I can’t. But, I think I can peacefully co-exist with lizards, so long as they don’t go losing their flipping tails on me.

I guess the question is, “How big a heart do we have?” (Or perhaps, “How big an appetite do we have?”)

tHe LitTLe WayS wE LoVe

A leisurely chat over a cup of coffee.
SMSes to check in on you.
Hugs in person and in spirit.
A call to ask how are you.
Giving you a bigger scoop of ice-cream.
A smile to greet your day.
Walking in the park.
Holding your hand.
A wish for your day to go well.
Letting you have the extra keys to my house.
A present to surprise you.
Patting you on your back.
Leaving the last piece of chicken for you.
Weaving dreams for you in my sleep.

Sometimes, to love enough to let go.

Sometimes, to love enough to let you be, even when it hurts me.

sKeLEtOnS & bOnES

“Make no bones about it! I’m not giving up so easily!” shouted Mr. D.

“And I’m not going to give in so easily!” I screamed back, “I hate you!”

And so we stand, facing-off each other. Actually, it’s more like I am crouching in a corner of my room, hugging my knees, willing Mr. D to disappear.

But I know he won’t. Disappear. Because life doesn’t happen like that. Things don’t just disappear. The day I let Mr. D into my life, I let him in for the long haul.

Like a lot of things we inadvertently let seep into our lives. Just that one more hour watching the TV. Just that couple more hours at work. Just let me sleep a little more. Just that other proposal to write. Just another drink. Just one more day or week or month or year given in to something we cannot name.

And we cope, in good ways or in bad ways.

“No, don’t close the closet door,” I whimpered, “we need to face the skeletons in there sooner or later.”

aLOnE

The fisherman stands in his boat, alone. Out in the sea, alone. The water catches the moon and reflects her light, alone.

The sea dances quietly to the rhythm of the waves, alone. The fisherman stares out into the darkness, alone. The boat rocks, alone.

He casts the net to his right and waits, alone. His shadow mimics his every move, alone. Sinuous in the silence, alone.

Boat and man and sea are at one, alone. He buries his wrinkled face into his hands, alone. He needs to hide and be, alone.

“Don’t cry, little one. It’s going to be OK.”

SpaCEs

A space so small it fits right into my hands. Yet a space so big even the earth is unable to contain it.

We need space. To live, to grow, to breathe, or sometimes, to just be. Our personal space.

And the public spaces. Spaces we share with other creatures, human or non-human.

The outer space. Where inter-galactic missions are commandeered, battles with aliens we do not know.

Spaces between words, so you can read what I am writing. (AlthoughIhavereadsomewherehthatthehumanmindoreyeiscapableofdecipheringcomplicatedstringsofwordslikethatthathavenospace).

Just like the spaces in my head right now, where I wander around aimlessly, looking for a point.

A point of light, perhaps. A point of view, maybe. Or to make a point.

I hope the candle hasn’t gone out yet. It’s a little dark here over in my space.

mY fAvOUriTe StrAw

I have a twirly whirly bendy pink drinking straw with Piglet clutching the top end of it. It is my favourite straw and I use it to drink my favourite drinks in my favourite wine glass.

I picked this straw because I like Piglet. Of all the Winnie the Pooh characters, Piglet is the one with the smallest frame but the biggest heart. I like Piglet because he is often scared and afraid and terrified and frightened. And I admire Piglet for always admitting that he is scared and afraid and terrified and frightened. Because I think that takes a lot of courage.

Piglet’s vulnerability touches me. It makes me want to reach out and help him. It makes me want to stretch myself to be a better person. And I suspect, another person’s vulnerabilities can often bring out the best in us.

So think Piglet, and be brave.

iNseCuriTieS

I surrendered P to her today and now I'm feeling a little lost without P. I feel like what I think Linus would feel had he probably maybe could possibly have given his blanket away to Salvation Army. Or Snoopy giving his typewriter away. Or something like that. Like giving a part of you away to someone else.

I feel wobbly, again. And feeling wobbly is not nice.

I feel insecure. Without P, I feel insecure. But without P, I would be safer. How strange.

And you can only hope that the person to whom you have passed that precious part of you to can help you. Like I know TWY would keep me safe.

Do your thoughts come before your feelings or do your feelings come before your thoughts?

tO Go On

For life to work, one needs to go on.

Life is about persevering. Some live because they really believe in life. Others press on because the alternatives are too scary to imagine. Perseverance is what makes life work.

And for life to work, one needs to go on.

Be gentle on your self.

kNoWiNg

Have you ever thought you know someone and then realise that you don’t? How that moment surprises you? Perhaps it has crept up on you slowly. Perhaps you feel like the rug has suddenly been pulled from under you.

Can you remain standing in the face of this person, knowing this new thing that you now know that you didn’t know before?

Or do you fall in front of this person, knowing this new thing that now burdens you and drags you down?

They say dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don’t. But you already knew that, didn't you?

kNOwiNg

Introspection is my strength. Rumination is my weakness.
Hoarding is my habit. Letting go is difficult.

We cope. We take control.
We lose control. We crumble.
We give in. We give up.
We fight. We struggle.

Things fall apart. I remember reading a book with this title a long time ago. And I still don't know why the mockingbird sings.

Self-awareness is mostly frightening, and yet, how liberating.

EveRyDaY

"Everyday is a monotonous exercise in futility. I wake up everyday and wonder what’s the point. Happiness? Is that even attainable? Or is it frivolous thinking even to believe it exists? Are we all blindly searching for a fantasy? Are we drowning rats going down with the ship? Is that what life is? What are we living for? Love? What good is love? Searching for it makes you miserable and expecting it to be returned only kills your soul and makes you sick and black inside. But without it there’s only loneliness. Bitter cold loneliness."

(Jervis from "The Goon")

i cHoOSe

A man who loves me must be able to love the night too. He must be able to appreciate the sounds of darkness.

He must be able to share in my deepest thoughts, feel my innermost desires. We must connect, heart to heart - in words, in touch, in hugs, in silence, in anger, just knowing.

A man who understands the beauty of the darkness will be a man who loves me.

A man who searches for the seven pots of gold at the end of the rainbow will be a man who loves me.

A man who dares to dream, lets his imagination take flight and soar - such a man I will love too.

It is not that I cannot live without you, but that I choose to be with you.