Aunt Audrey's eye surgery went very well and she's back home resting her eye. Thank God for blessings like this! :)
It's 3pm, the sky is a just a tad cloudy, but inside it's nice and toasty with the heater on. The lovely pizza and sticky date pudding lunch is making all of us drowsy and it's nice to just curl up on the couch and let the easy quiet lull the minutes away. No tv, no radio. Just the silence, the warmth indoors and the colourful backdrop of spring outdoors to make you drift into nap.
This is what I mean by untethered, unanchored. This feeling of time slipping slowly by like the sands in a sand watch, trickling away unnoticed. Sometimes it feels almost as though time is standing still. I don't need to be anywhere, nor do I really need to do anything. An interesting situation because under such a condition, where are you then left in? Netiher here, nor there; and you catch a glimpse of how time is actually timeless. Existence is timeless. Time is fiction.
Right now, right this moment, as I look out the terrace windows, all is quiet, everyone dozing asleep, our stomachs full, our heart gladdened, and outside,the birds are quiet and not a single leaf is stirring on the trees. Not a single leaf. These quiet moments are the best to reflect on all things spiritual. About God, about purpose of life, about gratitude, about the origins of discontent, about the whys of life.
What is it about being in a different place, a different land that makes everything just seem more vivid, more 'real'? Because things are new, different I suppose. You just pay more attention to them. Stay there for a few years and that place too will become normal, uninteresting. It's the newness of things - the people, the surroundings, the weather, even the television programmes.
I do miss familiar things back home, but the things that I miss tend to be unexpected. Like the Rasta in Taman Tun - or rather the fact that I could swing by the Rasta any time I wanted to just to hang out and have a coffee and a chat. Or the rain. I miss the rain sometimes. It rains here, but not the heavy all out downpour we get there. I miss snuggling up bed at home with Mike with the telly on, while its raining cats and dogs outside.
It's 3pm, the sky is a just a tad cloudy, but inside it's nice and toasty with the heater on. The lovely pizza and sticky date pudding lunch is making all of us drowsy and it's nice to just curl up on the couch and let the easy quiet lull the minutes away. No tv, no radio. Just the silence, the warmth indoors and the colourful backdrop of spring outdoors to make you drift into nap.
This is what I mean by untethered, unanchored. This feeling of time slipping slowly by like the sands in a sand watch, trickling away unnoticed. Sometimes it feels almost as though time is standing still. I don't need to be anywhere, nor do I really need to do anything. An interesting situation because under such a condition, where are you then left in? Netiher here, nor there; and you catch a glimpse of how time is actually timeless. Existence is timeless. Time is fiction.
Right now, right this moment, as I look out the terrace windows, all is quiet, everyone dozing asleep, our stomachs full, our heart gladdened, and outside,the birds are quiet and not a single leaf is stirring on the trees. Not a single leaf. These quiet moments are the best to reflect on all things spiritual. About God, about purpose of life, about gratitude, about the origins of discontent, about the whys of life. What is it about being in a different place, a different land that makes everything just seem more vivid, more 'real'? Because things are new, different I suppose. You just pay more attention to them. Stay there for a few years and that place too will become normal, uninteresting. It's the newness of things - the people, the surroundings, the weather, even the television programmes.
I do miss familiar things back home, but the things that I miss tend to be unexpected. Like the Rasta in Taman Tun - or rather the fact that I could swing by the Rasta any time I wanted to just to hang out and have a coffee and a chat. Or the rain. I miss the rain sometimes. It rains here, but not the heavy all out downpour we get there. I miss snuggling up bed at home with Mike with the telly on, while its raining cats and dogs outside.
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