journal entry no.10.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
♥ Wednesday, April 21, 2010
I've given my thoughts away. Well, not so much the intangible conceptual thought that you might be thinking of if you are an intellectual, and not so much the synaptic bursts between the ends of two neurons, if you are a doctor. Rather, I've written my thoughts in a journal and I've given them to another. Nine of them, to be specific. As these concerns a journal, we now know that we are not talking about any thoughts, but a specific category of thoughts. I am here to think about thoughts.
My thought" is something of an oxymoron. Everyday I bring in the influences, impressions and creations of others. I incorporate the words that others give and I rephrase it in my own words and then I pass it on for another to understand. I dont own my thoughts any more than I own the air I breathe. It is therefore ridiculous to hold so much to ourselves when it was never ours to begin with. Is an original thought a matter of creation or more than a fanciful amalgamation of other pre-existing thoughts? The rationale for sharing thoughts is therefore irrelevant. The real question is who would I express it to. But in order to host this technical query, we must begin with the nature of a thought. Here, I can only speak in metaphors.
You see, thoughts are like words. They live their mark behind. That mark can quite usually be an emotional one. Knowing that my parents think of me as a messy person, makes me feeling well... mixed about it. Yet for me to have such a feeling, this person must come to mean something. Because thoughts without emotions are thoughts so separated from the rest of you that you might as well not have them. To mean something is to have this person occupy a certain place in my thoughts that gives an emotional background to those thoughts. As such, in the compartments of memory and imagination must this person reside.
We will like to be parsimonious about the areas that we allow the other enter into. Trust me, that is a futile attempt. Because one thought does not exist alone. One thought exists and is shaped by other thoughts. This thought then, in turn, moulds and causes other thoughts. For example, the thought of my parents calling me messy, gives me an of what they think messiness is, which thereby influences what in my opinion, is messy. I do not for a moment have ever called my room, messy, though many others have. Now,when I share with you the state of my room, you'd know not just the state of my room but also my idea of what constitutes a mess. I am thus completely unable from stopping a person from entering into another compartment of thoughts after sharing with them one. Therefore, if access to my thoughts is something I cannot prevent, then by all means I must be cautious about who I let in. Because when the person enters, I become ready to let all be known.
So if i havent answered the who, I'll do so right now. I've invited someone into my thoughts by passing my journal over. I've made such an invitation based on the two analyses i've given earlier- on what the person means to me and how the person acts when within. As for the first, that is clearly a thought that the public eye is not allowed access to i.e. that is personal. As for the second, this person is gentle. There is no knocking and demands for access but only an eager anticipation that quietly cajoles and charms. What are the physical attributes by which one can observe to prove this? A listening ear, a smiling patience, a compassionate curiosity and a desire to tell the truth.
friday, 2nd April, 2015
Friday, April 02, 2010
♥ Friday, April 02, 2010
I do not see the sun- it is way too early. Instead, I walk into the office. There is that familiar pile of notes. Adjacent to those notes, a brown file lies precariously. What makes it even more suspect is the two parties named. Two Governments, a dispute and a multimillion dollar contract. It is an allegation on expropriation- which basically means theft. And I happen to represent the thief. The adrenaline hits me and before I know it, I am ploughing away relentlessly at the keyboard.
The working hours are humane today. Either the work is little, or I am becoming way too effective. So work ends at 5pm and in that instance, a lawyer morphs into a husband. It is all a ritual now: springing out the car keys, jogging down the stairs to a flamboyant Aston Martin that is only too eager to be on the road again. The husband moves into the highway and exits right where the rush hour traffic begins. There he is at the entrance of a hospital.
She walks out hurriedly- probably her day was as hectic as his, he has no idea. She looks around and notwithstanding the fact that there is only one silver-two-doored Aston Martin in the whole hospital compound, she fails to notice her husband. He sighs. He drives up. "Oh there he is"- she mouths, with a smile that makes him remember dedicating an entire article to, once- 5 years ago.
And there is an agenda today to be discussed. Couple stuff, really. I show it to her. It reads "flight Departure timing". She is confused and reads further. And she understands and experiences a deja vu. A deja vu because this sounds remarkably like something mentioned a long time ago, probably in a phone conversation. And the itinerary is extensive- from Tokyo to Hawaii to England. She can hardly remember why these specific destinations. The husband looks over, a whole amalgamation of anxiousness, fear and excitement shows in his eyes.
They reach home. A newly built, single storied bungalow. Three puppies greet them. The husband in his usual irritated fashion, brushes them aside to do the dreary and weary task of preparing their dinner. If only there was a maid. And she sits down in front of the dinner table- a spread of salmon, cod and broccoli. Freshly baked from the world famous Italian Chef from two streets down. She takes a photo of a delightful spread. Says her grace. And devours. He settles for the simple- a D24 in the fridge.
After, the husband becomes a cell member with his catholic counterpart. We begin with an acapella- worshipping to the tune of Hillsongs' "This is my desire". And I begin to read off the gospel. And coincidentally, another wave of deja vu hits us with the passage at John 10:10, which says "I have come to give life, and life to the full." I recall what started our journey. I recall what I told her many years ago. I recall to her the words being uttered. And the hilarious circumstances by which we chanced on each other. And in all seriousness, it started with two strangers trying to serve. I tell her that is what makes it incredibly, uniquely, irreplacebly, lovely.
