Thoughts-&-Musings

I have begun dreaming of things best left unsaid, things best left to gently slide into oblivion far beyond the edge of consciousness. Here there are voices, and fleeting faces, floating by as though swimming in some nebulous unseen ether. I would blame malaria or the slew of unknown brews at Dame Hayatou’s, but these are things I have seen in the flesh - less the twisting, less the turning in the dead of night and the turmoil that brings them back to mind. These are the memories of a not so distant past, of what-ifs and maybes and could-haves blatantly refusing to accept the cold hard facts.. ...

I suspect……. …… that beyond all the rhetoric; behind the superfluous arguments, the cynical barbs and the seemingly pragmatic fronts we put up; at its most prosaic, life is about the desire for acceptance, the illusion of autonomy and an ineluctable gravitation towards the certainty that safety brings - And we want to love, and be loved, inspite of our protestations to the contrary. Sigh…

The evening breeze, cooled by the frigid NorthSea never fails to welcome me to this place. Nonedescript, marked only by a pole and a small 4x4 plaque, it can seem like Oya or her Viking consort Njord chose to channel their chilling breath through this spot. For 40 days now, I have had to endure the icy chill the wind brings. Sometimes it can feel like the wind reaches out an icy claw and grabs the heart, as though it would yank it out and leave me for dead. ...

In retrospect…. Life happens.. With or without our consents…. And in its wake often comes change.. which we by default detest. Over time, we develop safe routines, coping mechanisms and default positions to deal with life - ultimately acquiring some semblance of balance. Sometimes change is subtle; imperceptibly modifying the place where we are on the continuum of life, instigating minor perturbations - little oscillations if you like - around our equilibrium positions. The pragmatic thing to do then is to try to hold the fort, to resist change and maintain the status quo. ...

Moments like these, when insomnia induced by deep thought strikes, are when the harsh reality of the things we try to suppress often come to the fore. The overwhelming desire of my heart and my hand is to pick up my phone and call long distance. But my head - ever pragmatic - intervenes, short circuiting the commands and forcing me to think. I wonder if she remembers me, or if indeed there is someone else making her laugh, hearing all her foibles and making her giggle at pointless jokes and wise cracks into the wee hours of the morning.

… at the end of the raging storm.… finally a silver lining appears… one victory.. but it is a crucial change of momentum!

I had an eccentric- if morbid- pastime whilst growing up; fantasizing about dying; and that for as long as I can remember. This was not a simple hit-by-a-car death, but a major drawn out event complete with ambulances, flashing lights, weeping family, and heart broken friends. The object of those fantasies was to convince myself I was that important to all of them; and assuage my battered ego after being blasted to bits by my mum. I would imagine Mother crying; eyes puffed up, hair flying in the wind, scarf wrapped around her waist, totally inconsolable, attempting to throw herself into the ditch, mourning her great loss - ME. Often I would have Di in the background, bawling like a chicken deprived of her entire brood in a sweeping attack by hawks - only a slightly more dignified version of mum. ...

They say a bird in hand ‘is worth two in the bush’… But where do we draw the line between being content with what is in hand versus craving the potential two in the bush…… Sometimes I fear I have a death wish - an inordinate attraction for the eccentric and the esoteric - to the detriment of the normal and available.. When I was younger, I chalked it down to an insatiable curiosity; that essential criterion for a life of continuous learning. Now though, I fear it runs deeper than that, maybe it is a desire to be unconventional, or a longing for the adventure that comes with the risk, or plain old restlessness.. I don’t know anymore….

A Journey is a gradual passage from one state to another. It may be a translation of spatial coordinates- in which case an object physically changes location, or it may merely be metaphorical - an evolution of an idea from a crude, undeveloped state to a more refined one. Sometimes the journey is deterministic – the number of steps is known from the beginning; at other times it is iterative - involving little steps that seek to approximate an unknown solution. There may be fellow Journey -ers; there may also be assistance in the form of vehicles that seek to mitigate the drudgery of the journey. The key though is that change occurs and hopefully there are clearly defined metrics that show that progress is being made. When all is told though, there is an end in view, a destination, a target box if you like, within which the Journey terminates…………. ...

It seems only like yesterday that I stood in your shoes, on the verge of turning twenty-one. My mind was a maelstrom of feelings; not all of which I could understand. On the one hand was nostalgia for all the memories of growing up and on the other trepidation. I had just left the University and I was going to miss the ‘mountain top experiences’ - the uninhibited exuberance of worshiping together on a Sunday afternoon, the wonderful friendships that had been developed over the tenure of my stay, the nights spent in raucous laughter as we talked about everything under the sun - everything. I felt some trepidation, a nagging concern at the monstrous changes that I was on the verge of undergoing. Lots of issues swirled around my mind – what final grade would I make? Where would I be deployed to serve the nation? Would I get a job? Was a Masters’ Degree the ultimate coup de grace I needed to launch myself into my chosen career? Had I learned all I needed to succeed in life? I had plans, that had me doing things I had only seen in my dreams. ...