“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.”
Well, I just wanted to use this quote at an appropriate time all these years, and this being spring, its ripe for usage. Not that it has some direct reference to this post.
Whats not ripe for usage is me, my head, my circles [no lofty recitations here]. We just refuse to serve any functional purpose in a world of worldly expectations. We even refuse to accept any labels of being renegade or criminals - not serving like a cog in this human machine is likely a crime, no? Where were are hanging is in that free space between heaven and earth - adhar, they call it in my language, empty space, space between earth and sky. Riding in our hot air balloon whose ultimate end would be in descent, we only see and imagine higher up. These are, however, festive times - only time will tell why.
In the meantime, in a hunter-gatherer-comic world me, energies are high, all thanks to: the rajmah-chawal, last of which is left on my tastebuds; a jog in the park, the sweat wringed still sitting around me in my tee; a creative medical exercise this morning to save me from something ugly that ends with 'mosis'. Nothing extraordinary, but something above the ordinary in each of the experiences to slowly send waves of elation lapping on my shores. I was glad for the third day to not be molested by the genderless in my office environment (again) - it would be a personal victory if the count extends to seven, and then I can celebrate my social isolation at holi with a greater fervour. Oh, and three to my blogposts over a single day, which is ace; am mentally constipated with too much to say but something blocking the process - good health is good prose, and good prose is good, eh, health.
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