How curious to deliberate on days filled with pleasing habit and camaraderie! I take tea outside in the morning when the mist rolls over the sand. Daily I engage in financial discussions with clients for whom I have genuine affection. I attend meetings where the same faces smile back at me. My Alden loafers and Church's brogues are polished every Thursday morning. And while such routine gives me a certain satisfaction, a subtle note of doubt runs through the hours. There is something about modern life today that never quite rings true. It is not so surprising, perhaps, that in these waning days of the Kali Yuga, a growing sense of breakdown swirls about me like the winds on Lenana. The atomisation of our world is almost complete, I feel, and with it, a thrusting chaos that makes meaningless, if we let it, the old certainties we once took for granted. Like a drunk trying to cross a crowded room, we fix our gaze on distant object and proceed towards it, haltingly at first and then with accelerated purpose, grasping at wall, clinging to wreckage. I, too, drift along this solitary route, like a dream undreamt and yet still written.
20 February 2010
Tea & Mist
How curious to deliberate on days filled with pleasing habit and camaraderie! I take tea outside in the morning when the mist rolls over the sand. Daily I engage in financial discussions with clients for whom I have genuine affection. I attend meetings where the same faces smile back at me. My Alden loafers and Church's brogues are polished every Thursday morning. And while such routine gives me a certain satisfaction, a subtle note of doubt runs through the hours. There is something about modern life today that never quite rings true. It is not so surprising, perhaps, that in these waning days of the Kali Yuga, a growing sense of breakdown swirls about me like the winds on Lenana. The atomisation of our world is almost complete, I feel, and with it, a thrusting chaos that makes meaningless, if we let it, the old certainties we once took for granted. Like a drunk trying to cross a crowded room, we fix our gaze on distant object and proceed towards it, haltingly at first and then with accelerated purpose, grasping at wall, clinging to wreckage. I, too, drift along this solitary route, like a dream undreamt and yet still written.
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5 comments:
What an articulate, thought-provoking post.
You are such a sophisticated, literate, introspective blogger.
It seems that you are aware of your blessings and their lack of true importance.
"meaningless if we let it" - don't let it.
It doesn't have to be a solitary route.
I hope, for your sake, that your gaze is fixed on something genuine and worthwhile and that the wreckage is minimal.
You are an enigma and a contradiction.
Oh, how I would like to join you for a cup of morning tea.
This is Anonymous wishing you all the best.
Truly exquisite prose - there are few writers who can or have been able to fit so much profound thought into so few words. You are not alone - I know I am among many who check your blog almost daily; I may not always comment but I always think about your posts and am affected by them. I too would like to join you for a cup of morning tea, from half way round the world - it would be a great privilege. We may never meet but you have crossed my path - the paths of many and that has meaning.
Profound and halting post, good sir.
I read this twice. Not depressing, but sad. One of the downsides of maturity is this feeling. Interesting post.
I wish I could take tea with you in the morning... you in your brogues and me in my black cardigan. I know you are so very busy but I am glad you still have your lovely flashes of inspiration.
xo
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