He wHo SEeKs tO ComFoRt

For you my friend, whom I really really miss and have not seen in a very very long while... I am so glad you are coming home soon.

"Do not believe that he who seeks to comfort you lives untroubled among the simple and quiet words that sometimes do you good. His life has much difficulty... Were it otherwise he would never have been able to find those words."

(Rainer Maria Rilke)

miDdLe RoAd

I think some people are born with happy genes. Just like some people are born with sad genes. For every person who sees the glass as half-empty, there is someone else who sees the glass as half-full. For every person who can laugh so hard at a joke they cry, there is someone else who finds it lackluster and inane. For every introvert, there is probably an extroverted counterpart.

Finding an equilibrium in life is difficult. Maintaining that equilibrium even more so. I don’t want to be an intellectual snob. Neither do I want to be mindlessly groveling for something, anything. You said, “In the middle lies the path of virtue.”

Show me the way. Or better yet, walk with me for a while.

fAiRY FieLd

Back when I was a dreamy-eyed teenager, I would pass by a smallish grassland area on my way to school every day. It’s not very big, maybe about the size of one Olympic swimming pool. In the pre-dawn hours, the field would be misty with morning dew. Like someone draped very fine white silk over the grass.

And I often imagined that if fairies wanted to come out and play, they would choose that little patch of grassland. It felt magical, and befitting of fairies. I can almost see them fluttering and dancing and frolicking in their pale, pastel dresses.

I still dream of finding fairies there. Just the other day, when the bus I was on drove past the little field, I found myself automatically straining to detect any signs of the magical creatures. Except that the little grassland area is no more. In its place, a tractor, a number of pipes, and lots of scaffolding.

Sigh, I suppose the fairies will have to find another dew-soaked field to play in.

hUNt fOR tHe tREasUrE

I love playing “treasure hunt”. I like the sense of adventure, the atmosphere of mystery, the thrill of uncovering hidden prizes. I love the whole set-up of the game. From creating riddles to burying the clues. I love the sheer intelligence that goes behind every successful game of “treasure hunt”. The teamwork and the spontaneity of reasoning and responding impress me.

Come to think of it, I have not played “treasure hunt” for ages. It takes too much time and effort to plan, too much energy to get it up and running. I wonder if I still have that dogged determination to solve the clues and look for the treasure.

Don’t forget now, X marks the spot.

ComBs

They say to go through things with a fine-toothed comb. So you don’t leave out any details that might be important. I think sometimes, we need to go through things with a wide-toothed comb. So that the junk and the debris might be sifted out.

Self reflection is a painstaking task. Looking into the core of our being is difficult. We don’t know the way to our innermost self. We don’t recognize who we are at the centre. We think we are bigger than what we see. We think we are smaller than what we find.

Superiority complex. Inferiority complex. So where does that leave me?

sLEeP

There aren’t that many hours in a day. And I spend most of them sleeping. Yet I am still perpetually tired. Like some sleeping bug bit me and I have the sleeping sickness. I mean, I like sleeping, but even this is starting to get me worried.

I wonder if it’s possible for a person to sleep forever. Not dead, but just in eternal slumber. Having said that, it might be better off being dead. At least you get to explore a different life after death. Rather than being stuck in a kind of unconscious, earth-bound limbo.

But I shall not wax lyrical about death. The Sandman is coming to collect me soon.

tHinKiNg

There is a strange high-pitched trilling sound going on somewhere near me. It’s right at that level where it is so sharp it pierces your eardrums, making it practically impossible to think.

I’m reminded of taking exams. Where the invigilators invariably start click-clacking on their high heels, stand behind you, and peer over your shoulders to see what you are writing. How can anyone think under such circumstances?

The thinking process is such a delicate, even fragile, thing. I have a great respect for thinking time. Thinking is my long-time companion. I seek refuge in thinking, I draw strength from thinking. Thinking lets me see the world in all its glorious hues and all its dreariest colours.

Thinking is to me what water is to fish (or something like that).

SeeK & yOU sHaLL FinD

You know what they say about finding things. That it is always in the last place you look. But that’s silly. Because obviously when you have found the thing you were looking for you would stop looking. So it will always be in the last place you look.

Unless you’re looking for something that cannot be found. Or does not want to be found. Like answers, to all of life’s big questions. Not that all questions have an answer. Nor all the answers you can handle.

What, do I seek? How, will I find? Where, do I seek? When, will I find?

Look no further, the trail ends here.

LoGicAL tHinKiNg

I remember taking philosophy classes when I was in university. One of the papers was Logical Thinking. We learnt syllogisms, categorical or otherwise. We learnt premises and fallacies. We learnt predicates and subjects. We learnt how to reduce words into mere alphabets and symbols.

It was easy. It seemed almost intuitive. And I liked that truths of the world could be described in three neat statements. And I liked that there was an “answer” to the syllogisms. And I liked the structure that guided the logical thinking process.

I am happy. You are happy. Therefore, the world is a happy place. If only!

sEaRChiNg

Searching, for the darkness, for the light
Searching, through the path of wrong, and right
Searching, for the truth, for the lies
Searching, before the moment passes by

Life, is an endless searching
Searching, searching, searching
Searching, for the I that is in me
Searching, for the mystery of me

Searching, holding, wanting, for I, myself, and me

5 MinUTeS

A while back, I started to break my days down into 5-minute chunks. At that time, 5 minutes was all I could deal with. At that time, 5 minutes seemed like eternity. At that time, 5 minutes gave me a perspective on the world I would never have imagined possible.

In 5 minutes, you could make a life-changing decision. In 5 minutes, you could step from light into dark. In 5 minutes, you could move mountains and hail the storms. In 5 minutes, you could go from first to last. Or perhaps, in 5 minutes, you can simply rest contented in the bosom of your self.

“If you live each day as if it were your last, one day you will be right.”

rEpLAciNG dREaMs

She asked me whether I had an alternative dream. To replace the dream that was broken. I found this fascinating, as I had never looked at it this way. I put so much of myself into the dream that when it broke, I thought my world had ended.

But life doesn’t end just because dreams ended. Otherwise, we’d never hear the stuff of inspirational stories and pop-psychology-self-help books. Otherwise, we’d never get the chance to prove that we are stronger than what we believe. Otherwise, we’d never be able to learn and to grow.

Thank you, for telling me that I can still dream.

cAtS & DoGs

I wonder, if cats and dogs have memories like we do. If I had fed the stray cat once, will she remember me? If I had cuddled the cute little dog once, will he remember it was me? Will my smell trigger some stirring of memories in them?

I wonder, if dogs and cats love like we do. Do they recall with fondness the mother of their litters? Will they pine with longing when their mate goes away? Will they love with the kind of desperate hunger with which we beg to be loved?

If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me.