Monday, September 25, 2017

A Moment at Ipsut Creek




The stones and rocks on this dead riverbed are all white, grey, and reddish toned. They all have the same rounded soft edges formed over years of water flow. The relatively smaller river that is before me is joined by other branches of random streams; the water itself is a turquoise blue tinged grayish color. It is chilly, probably a little below 50F.

The water gushes down, drowning out everything else around; a steady chugging, an endless gushing,
as millions of tiny water particles merrily trip and fall over thousands of rocks underneat; dancing along the way. I imagine this water must be melting glaciers from Mount Rainier. P and I just cooked our freeze-dried chicken fried rice sachet, washed down with some red wine, sitting right here.

Right in front of me, I look up to see the colours of the sun setting behind a giant mountain. I suppose we are in the valley, we did hike down an elevation of 2700 feet today. Our camping site is right here, on the banks of this river, which happens to be an enchanted forest. I can see why the trail is called Wonderland Trail. We are at Ipsut Camp. This water stream is a mere 1/10th of its original size, leaving the river bed rocks and a slightly dampish sand that is a dark maroonish purple-tinged brown.

I sit here and watch the magical dance of the sunset fall on the rocks and trees, right above me. It is at first, a strip of the golden glow of rays falling along the mountain. It continues to stretch in length as it also slowly disappears as the shadows move in sync with the setting sun. Then the glow turns into a hazy yellow and dulls. For the last few minutes, the sky and everything the light touches retains a glorious purple above the clouds. The gushing water, unaware of this glory, glows a bright whitish grey, as it continues hurriedly along its path to who knows where, some unknown creek, forming waterfalls and feeding the earth and river banks until it eventually meets whatever destined sea.

The purple peachy glow has now resided. A light, blue greyish hue takes over the sky. The valley is still bright, highlighting the last few seconds of light as it fights to keep the day alive for a split second longer.

I send my sister silent birthday wishes for the 23rd of September, hoping this 30th birthday of hers is as magical as this moment. I feel at peace, at a comfortable equilibrium with the universe. In this moment, work, politics, money, none of it matters, all insignificant. All so trivial.

The river is now a cement-like bright dull blue white and the foam of each little wave of current forms for a second and disappears in a flash.

This is life. Is this also not death? It all seems so intertwined. We are here for a moment as the clouds turn a dark shade of grey and the shadows of the pine trees form, ever ready for the night.

The many fallen white tree trunks rest on the empty river bed, decaying slowly, yet, retaining its former glory.

I am humbled to be a tiny speck in the universe. I want to sit here quietly, as my heart rejoices and gives thanks. Everyone before me, and after me, silently shares this space as every silent atom in my body breathes this fresh air, hears this rush of melting glaciers.

I am here, and you travel with me, wherever you are.



Tuesday, September 6, 2016

On the Darkside

The feeling of numbness that echoes through each bone of our bodies. A low rumble of a shudder, a cry, a piercing of the heart in a loop of despair.
Suffering.
Questions, hopes, and fears played over and over in the brain. An unbearable longing for a loved one that brings you to your knees.
Musings on loss, of the mundane everyday afterwards. Of the absolute nothingness and horror of sudden goodbyes that are filled with words unsaid.
Hugs ungiven, and memories not quite cherished until you realize they were all.
Silent tears threatening to spill at random moments of the day. 
Trickling down on to an already damp pillow... 

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Tricks & Treat

Trick = One day, we disappear.
People everywhere. Loved ones, family and friends, acquaintances, neighbours, strangers.
Treat = Happiness. Love. Contentment. 
Laughter, community, traditions and simple rituals. Insider jokes, memories. Secrets.
The treat, easily becoming a simple trick. Might as well be a dream, lost in the yesteryears at the cornerstones of our brains.
And life continues the trick or treating of one another.

Saturday, August 20, 2016

Scrambled Eggs on Toast

Some butter on a warm slice of toast, mixed with a generous slap of marmite. 
Perfect start to a lazy weekend, more than anyone can ask for. 
Scrambled eggs, on wheat bread. 
Dreams of future tomorrows, baking extravagant goodies, pastries, bread and cake. I can almost smell it. 
A quick mental break from the darkness, behind the thin veil of reality.
At the back of my mind, always, we are reminded that death is lurking. A stark reminder of everything we hold true in this world to be so fragile.
A beautiful lie.
So, I make the most out of my scrambled eggs on toast with marmite, a comfortable familiarity of the every day before me and yesteryears, preparing for the inevitable tomorrows.

Saturday, August 13, 2016

Sermon Of The Crows

The soothing cacophony of crows can be a rare insight in to something deep. I'm not sure exactly what that is right this moment. But I know it is.
I find the thought to be soothing.
Crows conjure up memories of garbage cans and left over food. It also reminds me of YouTube videos on the "Secret life of crows." Google it. You'll see.
Crows share food. They call upon each other when they spot anything to eat. They also pass down memory and secrets to their offspring. So, generations of crows can learn from their elders. Knowledge for posterity. Very human like.
Misunderstood creatures of darkness, these peculiar creatures, they have so much character.

Most humans misunderstand, our nature is to fear all things black. Crows. Cats. Darkness. It's a pity, because I am in awe of these wild feathery, shiny beaded creatures that are so adaptable to their environmental conditions. Such clever beings.
Next time, listen to their sermons. Who knows what you'll learn. 
Don't be wary of crows, because they are signs of life.

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Eyelash

At times, it hurts.
As tears pour down your cheek
Stubbornly irritating the eye
scratching the eyeball an angry red

Sometimes, it is a wish
Gently laid on a wrist
Blown away
with whispers of hope

At times, it is beauty.
Loning for shiny black curls
At times, peace and calm
As you pray to the universe

At times, signs of aging.
Turning grey, then silvery
As the years become numbered
And they have been a witness

They are the glue.
Holding the eyes tightly shut
The eternal rest
When they close one last time

A million memories turn to dust
Having softened the tears
Over the years
As they fell


Wednesday, March 30, 2016

As I sit here

My days are blurry, these last few weeks. Maybe they were months. I can't really remember anymore.

I battle with insomnia induced by caffeinated drinks at unholy hours of the day. Once a tea drinker, now a hopeless coffee addict. I think I battle slight fits of depression and anxiety too. Who knows. I push these things aside for my life post-thesis writing.

I play chess and learn arabic obsessively, anything to procrastinate writing a thesis. I have also started thinking in my dreams. My best ideas,  swear, come to me at my waking hours. Between the few feet from getting out of bed to switch the hateful alarm off, to walking to the sink to wash my face.

I have allergies too. Detestable unruly runny nose, constantly sore and red from wiping. I sniffle a lot too.

I am caffeinated right now, too. A mocha. Did I mention it also adds quite a bit of calories to my otherwise non exercise receiving body. My cheeks are fatter, I swear.

I miss my family. I miss my grandmother who is dying of a terminal disease. I miss my friends who I do not shower with enough love or letters. I think of all my friends who I have missed birthdays of, gifts to friends who have newborns. Please forgive me for this brief time I do not exist in the universe.

I finally mustered up the courage to speak to the woman who comes to sit in the same place at the coffee shop two hours before it closes, everyday. Or at least most days I am here. I made eye contact with her, and I asked her if I could get her a coffee. She gracefully declined, and then continued to talk to me. She told me she taught kids. I didn't understand everything she said. But I noticed she wouldn't stop talking. She has a laptop, she has bluetooth headphones and a phone. She charges everything, and then everyday, she falls asleep on the comfy chairs. I yearn to know her story. I wonder why. She has a suitcase and a bag. She owns a broken laptop with a big screen cracked right in the middle. I do not know. I hope she is ok. She understood the title of a paper on my pile of books. She knew and understood the nature of my work. She seemed lonely. Perhaps it was my conversation that was the real coffee.

I have been thinking about her the last few days. It is so strange. You don't know if it is appropriate to offer coffee or not. Is it offensive? Who knows. I hope I didn't hurt her feelings. I hope in some small way I was able to show kindness. I hope she is ok.

I must get back to my thesis writing now. I wonder if this is the end of my higher education. I hope not. I hope it is. I don't know. I hope everything will be ok.