Many lives - III

On the darkest days of winter, the stars seem the brightest. The cold air makes the eyes smart and eyesight somehow sharper, once you've wiped the tears away. Jahangir knew this. He told his grandson to watch his step as they made their way across the vast blackness that was the frozen river.

In a different lifetime his father had be called Great and his son had watched his last days drain away like the waters of the river that separated him from the tomb of his beloved. Or so they said. But here and now the sky was mightier, the people beneath it, less ignorant of their station.

The distant fires in the sky slowly turned in their cold sleep. Some even more distant ones woke up in an instant of supernova brightness to begin their journey into the farthest reaches of the universe. A universe where things weren't meant to come together, to stay, they were meant to go forth and discover.

The large cat, nigh invisible with its velvet coat the colour of midnight, bared its sabre teeth and waited for the conqueror of the world to step into a trap of ice and claws.

Wintry thoughts

A month has gone by, sometimes with difficulty, sometimes with ease, but always too quickly. The thing with life I guess is that it happens regardless of whether you are paying attention or not. And it is so hard sometimes, to take notice, so much easier to just let it flit past, barely seen.

I heard it said or read it written somewhere that you can tell when a given option is the wrong choice, simply because it seems so much easier than just about anything else. Not sure if that's something that accurately lends itself to generalization, but there's definitely some truth in it.

The weather has turned from autumn-ish and slightly moody to full-on early winter wetness. With the associated doom and gloom. But this morning, when the mists parted for a moment, I noticed that there's snow between the trees on the hillsides. It needs to get a little bit colder before the white stays though.

I've managed to keep up with the running, somewhat surprisingly. And I surprised even myself when I found myself considering getting a pair of the spiked add-ons you can get for running on ice. But then again, I'd considered that last year too.

Visibility's gotten better, in a way. Now that all the leaves have matted the ground in a rotting brown carpet, the erstwhile walls of trees have become all but see-through. The extent to which the seasons change this place continues to astound me :).

If only the sun would come out once in a while maybe things would seem brighter. Although, when I do pay attention, life is going rather well, all things considered :). So here's hoping the snow comes soon and I get to test out my re-waxed board!

Currently: clouded over
Listening to: Ramin Djawadi - Do people change?

Many lives - II

There was fire on the horizon. Not a blaze, embers. It seemed as if the edges of the night had caught fire. Maybe they had, the heat was beginning to singe the old woman as she looked on. She couldn't remember ever having seen anything prettier in her whole life!

It had been months since they had been out in the open. Not out of choice, you understand. But now the wait was finally over. As the rest of the world let the strangeness of the light entrap their attention, the two children crept from shadow to shadow, and finally melted away into the darkness. To freedom.

They'd said this might happen. But he had paid no attention. People were always predicting the end of the world, they hardly ever believed their own predictions, so why should he? There were more important things to worry about. Like the next poker night. Maybe he'd win back some of the money he'd lost last week.

Gant signalled to Kaspar 209. The planet's surface was reaching critical temperature. Soon most of the indigenous life forms would have their organic components disintegrate. It was showtime. He always loved this part.

Many lives - I

Beats drumming through his body like it was stretched taut, vibrating to every pulse.

He felt his eyes see and heard the sounds his ears funnelled to his brain from time to time. But his senses were often more misleading than not. Confusing, blurred and baffled, he mistrusted them, choosing to trust in everything most of us consider unfaithful.

The boy believed in the figments of his imagination. They had no basis in reality, and thus, never tried to mislead him. No false pretences of representing truth.

He had such imagination too! Beings and worlds, vast and varied, with stories unfolding within them, sometimes surrounding them. Ah! Such colours played through that universe, melodies of such heart wrenching tenderness.

Delirious in the throes of a fever, he lay on the corner of First and Amistad. One world, unseen and unseeing, passed by. Another, also unseen, continued its fantastic journey, unknowingly hurtling towards a spectacular end as the life that sustained it slowly ran out of sustenance.

Where is my mind?

I guess the best and the worst thing with life is that you never know what's coming. Around the next corner, through that door up ahead, beyond the next step.

It would be cynical to take the view that it is all doomed to end anyway, so why bother holding onto hope in the mean time. However, is it not supremely naive to hope that the future is filled with only fulfilled wishes? So the question remains, where does one draw the pragmatic line?

Is it possible to live life without expectation? What would that even look like? But if expectations are to be expected (heh, yeah, I know, right?!) then what should be their basis?

Yes, question upon question. And all the answers hide their faces behind more questions. That is assuming every question has an answer in the first place :).

I guess the more the burning colours of autumn desert the branches and carpet the pavements, and the closer the mercury drops to zero, the world begins to present its rather more stark countenance. It gets you thinking.

Yet, there remains the hope for a world soon to be enveloped in magic white. And the spring after :).

Currently: wondering
Listening to: The Shins - When you notice the stripes