3 Books

I am reading 3 books at the same time:

1. Death By Black Hole: And Other Cosmic Quandaries by Neil deGrasse Tyson

2. Many Lives, Many Masters by Brian Weiss

3. Brief Interviews With Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace

Depending on what meds and day of the menstrual calender I'm on, these books are fucking with various parts of me, in varying degrees of intensity.

Highly recommended all.

       

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P.S.: Do you think it's coincidence? Is there such a thing as coincidence? What is coincidence anyway?

the small print

some of us will learn that growing up means playing an endless game of tic tac toe, battling constant opponents engaged in ceaseless struggles to win the upper hand, always plotting, brains racing at a thousand kilometres an hour, never dropping the ball, keeping at least one eye open at all times. always fighting for trophies, always shielding from attack.

relationships are arrangements of convenience, strategic contracts between two lives - no matter how hard someone's beating heart echoes in our chests, no matter how easy it is to dissolve into their skin.

in spite of the exhaustion, the endless game is always to be played, new arrangements waiting to be negotiated, small victories to be won but never to be questioned: for what? 

some of us will learn that growing up means playing an endless game of treasure hunt, requiring immense energy for digging deep and hunting for clues in all the scary places - inside ourselves and others - with hearts open twenty four-seven, equally subject to gentle breezes as to harsh winds, always taking furious notes no matter which way the wind blows. always striving to be authentic, ever ready to confront the demons round the corner.

relationships are wild trails, bathed in fresh air and sunlight to illuminate unexplored parts of us - no matter how vulnerable it makes us to go off the beaten path, no matter how unfamiliar the road becomes.

in spite of the uncertainty, the endless game is always to be played, the fresh air & sunlight always available for renewal, small treasures to be found and never once doubted: for what? 

http://imgfave.com/view/1908076

Soap

Ask me again what I want to be when I grow up.

At age 34, I want to be someone who knows how to love and be loved. 

It is the simplest thing I can think of wanting to be. Certainly, also the hardest.

A magnificent thing happened to me while doing the dishes today. A fluff of dish washing foam fell into a vat of oily water and whoosh, like Moses parting the seas, the grease parted and a pristine moat of clear water emerged out of the mess.

Now, I know that soap is designed to make a hearty meal of grease. It’s what the label on the pack says. It’s what my chemistry teacher said in school. It can be proven with equations and formulae. There’s math to explain it. I've had a 25 year long career washing dishes so I’ve also come to place good faith in soap’s appetite for grease.

Yet, there was something about paying attention as it happened: a single droplet of lily-white decimating an entire army of oil & grease in one graceful swoop.

You really had to be there.

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(But of course soap doesn't really decimate anything at all. On the contrary, it builds a chemical bridge between natural foes - oil & water. Dang, science, you're awesome.) 

It's never a bad thing when your morning begins with the gentle sounds of Brian Cox discussing the 'wunders of the unee-verse' with Neil deGrasse Tyson & others, against the backdrop of London's Science Museum (BBC Radio 4: The Infinite Monkey Cage, Ep: Science Museum).

Go. Listen.

On The Endless Waiting To Be Understood

Tough love dished out by Anton Chekov to his brother, Nikolai:

"You often complain to me that people 'don't understand' you. But even Goethe and Newton made no such complaints. Christ did, true, but he was talking about his doctrine, not his ego. People understand you all too well. If you don't understand yourself, then it's nobody else's fault."

Find the full text here: http://www.lettersofnote.com/2013/07/every-hour-is-precious.html

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On a slightly different but related note: The final spoken verse from 'Mori Araj Suno' sung by Tina Sani with Arieb Azhar (Coke Studio Pakistan, Season 3)

Iss surat seh arz sunatay
Dard batatay, Nayya khaitay
Minnat kartay, Rasta taktay
Kitni sadiyaan beet gai hain 
Ab jakar yeh bhaid khulla hai
Jis koh tum ne arz guzari
Jo tha haat pakadnay waala
Jis jaag laagi nao tumhaari
Jis say dukh ka daaroo manga
Toray mandir may joh nahin aaya
Woh to tum heen thay
Woh to tum heen thay

Translation (with some alterations, from here)

With this visage, you plead
Recounting your pain, Rowing your boat
Asking to be blessed
Then waiting expectantly...
Countless centuries have passed this way
Only now to reveal
The one whom you had appealed to
The one who held your hand and guided you
The dock where you anchored your boat
The healer you sought a panacea from
The one who did not visit your temple...
...Was you all along
It was you all along

First, Listen

This is the remarkable speech given by Malala Yousafzai at the UN on her 16th birthday.
There are folks who are questioning whether she wrote the speech herself or whether she is merely a pawn in larger geo-political games.
To which, the best answer I read on the interwebz came from Overrated Outcast:

"So?"

In my humble opinion, it's very possible that this young woman will become a brand (well, she has already) or that her story could be exploited for base political agendas.

But to dismiss her message or the fact that she stands in front of an international gathering of world leaders, having survived a terrifying attack on her life and liberty and insinuate that she does so because she's too stupid to know better, makes you - yes even the Taliban-hating you - a shithead.

A shithead of the variety that cannot understand what wimmens with their tiny brains will ever be good for besides parroting someone else's words. Or what, if anything, they could achieve with an education or a platform to express themselves.
Oh wait...