Sunday, May 19, 2013


Like those six bamboo bundles I wrote about a few weeks back, similarly, I too am growing. The past few weeks I have been trying to figure out a few things: a. What is happening to my life? and b. What am I doing my doings for?; For whom am I doing them?; Who is dictating what it is that I do, seen or unseen?; and c. What makes me happy, and what am I quite good at? Those were are very intriguing proposals to present myself with, as I looked forward, while looking back–quite often –over these past few weeks. Amsterdam is really a stunning city, yet it was only yesterday that I relayed to someone nearby, that, 'Amsterdam is beautiful and when you first move here everything is spectacular, and the buildings are cute as ever. Yet after year three, or four, that you must remind yourself that the Rijksmuseum really is something special, and not just a place where the tourists and cyclists make one another's lives tormented for the brief few meters that each's 'path' intercepts around the various traffic stops that ring the museum's property line perimeter.' Things like that. Remind yourself what a wonderful city this really is, and that time at home is much different than time spent elsewhere, if only for the 100% sanctuary feeling of security that comes with just that, home. My humble-abode here in the city does exactly what it needs to: it's turning into a jungle on the balcony, and after having taken care of almost all other interior aspects of the house, this quickly rising jungle takes all my attention in my house, these days. Growing am I and I only recognize that fully now, now that the last few fractured and thought provoking weeks have passed. Now that the winds have calmed, I can fully reflect on their affects to the landscape that is my life. Sometimes forced growth is unsettling during its doings, but only after the growth had slowed was I able to appreciate that it had occurred, whoever was maneuvering the levers and buttons and screens behind the curtain, I am in someway grateful for that. As Dominique Browning lays forth, 'slow love' is about knowing what you've got, before its gone.