So many days, oh so many days
seeing you so tangible and so close,
how do I pay, with what do I pay? 
-Pablo Neruda


How to assuage the bewildered heart, beating and constant, arbitrary in its evenness, questions aswirl in the rhythm. 


The eyes open to daylight, determined to drink in a stretch of the view out front. The mind lingers in the background, seeking what isn't there to be sought, grappling with its cerebrations, nursing unforgotten wounds, lingering where it should no longer be, insisting on remembered sunsets on forgotten places, wishing on dead stars, still flickering with waiting hopes. 


To take a step forward, or keep pressing on to the past minute, hour, year--


one finds the self in the middle of things.

Your

cryptic thoughts. Your evasive mind. Your vacillations, five in a minute. Your irresoluteness, even in things that don't matter. Your unfathomable brain (where does it lead?). Your smile, the secrets that tug on it. Your lack of circumspect, even in things that matter.Your taciturn nature. Your listlessness, neurotic. Your capacity to turn your back, even on things that matter.

*art, Salvador Dali, Landscape with Butterflies (Paysage aux Paipllons), 1956

"Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths."

-Etty Hillesum-

And so, it goes, that we sometimes find ourselves gasping from running too fast. We race with seconds and outrun minutes, trying to beat deadlines, chasing whatnots and what-ifs.

I had just such a run today. But, for some reason or another, I found myself stopping midway because I realized I had forgotten what it was I had been running after. What was it I was chasing? Whose invisible fingers were putting creases on my forehead (good thing they were temporary--the creases, I mean)? What was it that made me worry so, that gave me such restlessness, such unease?

Halfway through the lunch I was picking like a bird on, Sheila asked me, "why so quiet?"

I told her I was trying to remember what it was I might be forgetting.

And who's to say that our lives aren't all spent running? One of these days, we ought to have our heads examined. Perhaps, there is some winding mechanism there that we can turn maybe counter-clockwise or a button we could press to slow down and therefore ease the agitation?

If we didn't try hard enough

to fill our days with something, some thing, anything--

did we waste time?

Sleeplessness.
Desire(s) translated into restlessness. Or, that which is untranslated into the fulfillment of said desire(s).

For time to run faster so that the next task can be worked at and accomplished; for the object of one's affection (a dress? a goal? a woman? a man?) to be within one's sight; for time to unravel, unravel because time spent in sleep is--or seems to be--stationary, and lack of movement is desire fulfilled.

Whereas our nature requires movement. How contradictory, this raison d'etre.

Sleeplessness. Desire unfulfilled. Movement.

Toss, turn.

You know how it is

...when the hours and the days drift by like never-ending seas of curtains and you barely have a moment to blink and realize that they are actually unfolding before your eyes because the only thing you know is that you're there, watching, and not noticing that the curtains are not only moving but are really changing color, too?

The past several days have been like that. As usual, there's comfort in cliches, so, yes, the days have flown so swiftly by with the breeze, and the chore of having to step back and retrace one's whereabouts from the starting point of choice, up to the mark one has drawn between the step before the finish line and the actual finish line, seems a needless one, one might say, because something always seems to get lost in the retelling.

Or is something gained, instead?


I am going home soon--in less than two days, as a matter of fact. Probably explains all the breeziness.

Wind Matters

A mighty strong wind blew my way this morning. Was it a portent of things to come? A warning of sorts? Bad--or good--news being delivered?

I wasn't--and still am not--entirely sure which one of the above it was. All I knew was that it was a signal for me to tell my legs to hold fast and steady to the pavement I was walking on.

Thank the fairies I didn't get blown away, considering that I was already beginning to sway with the gale. I had a horrible fear my legs were going to give in.

Good thing they didn't.

Middle of things

All in all, a very busy, very fulfilling week.

The inter-process calibration I've planned out and organized from late last year and scheduled for yesterday finally pushed through (and with fantastic results--all in all, a success!); I received a zero-variance rating on my monitors (for week 1, at least); plus, I've been running more regularly since the beginning of this month (oh, yes, March is indeed my favorite month, heat and all!).

Apologies for whatever jargon-like terms I may have used. I'm just so full to the brim with satisfaction that I had to let it out, otherwise I'd spill over.

Then again, I'd better not let it go overboard. I know something not quite so good will be bound to come around the corner, anyhow. I mean, doesn't it always?

And, oh, yeah, I almost forgot to tell you about what happened last Monday.

But let me save that for another post.