New Beginnings

I feel as if this coming new year is a whole new chapter in my life. Most obvious is that Button is gone. I feel a part of me is missing.

I need to grow up, mature in mind and set some concrete directions to follow. There's so many things I want to accomplish in life but I need to rein myself back and not feel as if I'm somehow failing myself if I don't get everything done. I've learned to stand on my own two feet, to be independent and count on only myself. This still doesn't stop me from wanting to meet someone but I think last year was a good learning year on getting to know myself again. I've changed a lot, I like who I am now but it was a tough process.

Lastly, I need to stop raging at fate and lost opportunities. What comes will come.

Dying Swan

"... The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear;
And floating about the under-sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole
Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold..."
~ Tennyson.

I have this short clip of Evelyn Hart dancing the Dying Swan for CBC's special tribute to Hart and Rex Harrington, "A Pairing of Swans" and I haven't tired of watching it yet.
The Dying Swan was choreographed by Fokine for Anna Pavlova (who was rumoured to have asked for her swan costume on her deathbed) and has since been danced many times by many acclaimed dancers thereafter, most notably Plietskaya, as well as parodied by Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo with the swan wilting and strewing feathers across the stage. I've seen videos of different dancers each with their own interpretation of this famous solo and each time, one marvels at the fluidity of movement and the elegant mimic of the dancer's idea of a swan. Saint Saen's score is sublime (especially the recording of Yo Yo Ma) and just hearing the music is enough to conjure up an image of a swan skimming over the surface of a still lake, stretching it's wings out in a solitary waltz.

No dancer comes close to Hart's version. She does not wrap the solo in glossy lyricism, there's no precise poses of the fingers in classic balletic stances, no pretty fluttering of the arms as though the swan is in flight, nor quickening denials against the inevitable. It's a dance of a Dying swan and she imbues it with earthy heaviness as though the swan is much aware of her mortality. This last waltz of the swan is an acceptance almost and you feel the weight of death. Hart makes the dance tangible, the swan is not a heavenly being that carries its absolute beauty to the last flutters of death; the swan is a creature of the earth, and death a natural occurrence. Instead of making the audience observe a struggle for life and wishing that she won't die and will take off and fly away, we are drawn closer to the swan, to partake in the internal restlessness to reconcile life with death. The last stillness of the swan is not a fixed dainty pose, from the final quivers of the arm to the way she let's it fall, splayed as it will by her side. But through it all, grace is maintained, and there's a sense of dignity in the maturity of the acceptance of death, and it's so real. Her technical bravura may not match most of the other dancers out there but in interpretation and living out a role and making the pretense of such a constricting dance genre connect to us mere humans, she's incomparable. __________________________________________

I went to the Bird Garden today in Mong Kok and it broke my heart seeing Red-Whiskered Bulbuls, Starlings, Hill Mynas... all stuffed in tiny cages with barely enough room to maneuveur around much less fly and their beautiful tail feathers cut off. I saw a few Bulbuls with their head crest all ragged and almost cried. I hate it. Birds should never never be kept in captivity with no room to fly. It's like asking us not to breath.

Biodiversity

Prayers

Do prayers work? because I can sure use some right now. Are miracles possible? because miracles are needed. No one should ever give up hope even when all hope seems lost. She will pull through. We have to believe that. We can't allow anything else to detract us from our hope. Pray hard and hope it flies up into the vast heavens to be answered.

glow

there's a letter by my bed
sitting in it's envelope beckoning.
i can't remember the last time i got mail,
from one's hand to another.
I slid the long length smoothly out
and read it once, twice, thrice
the words arranged neat in lines.
refolding with care and happy thoughts
i gently slide it back to it's white confines
and set it reluctantly back by my bed.

I think letters are the most personal of all communications. Phonecalls are grand with the added touch of vocal connection but letters, letters you can keep and reread for ages to come and still remember the warmth and emotions. Letters are like a touch from person to person. A connection knowing it has passed from their hands to yours.

I used to write more letters, to my mom, to penpals, to friends abroad but over the years, laziness took over. A shame really. But recently, I've been writing more. And come on, most out there are curious to see what my handwriting looks like *grin*

I heart trees

"The last days of this glacial winter are not yet past, so young is our world. I used to envy the father of our race, dwelling as he did... with the new-made fields and plants of Eden; but I do so no more, because I have discovered that I also live in "creation's dawn." The morning stars still sing together, and the world, not yet half made, becomes more beautiful everyday."

A few weeks ago, I was at the dentist and started reading a National Geographic mag and this article on the Sierra Trail. The above is said by John Muir who was a conservationist and naturalist who explored the Sierra region extensively, and is also the founder of the Sierra Club. The quote was so poignant I scrambled for a pen and paper to copy it down.

This summer, I've been out and about breathing in the fresh air, going tree hugging and there are moments where I stop involuntarily, reflexively to look at the beauty around me. There's something lyrical, a tangible magic that is only felt when one is immersed in nature. I read this book on the Monarch Butterfly last year and in the opening chapter the author was visiting a roosting site in Mexico. She sat in the forest, lost in time, with butterflies everywhere and the only description that came to mind was that she was on Holy grounds. That's my sentiment everytime I catch a sunrise, when the dark night veil is thrown back to reveal a sanguinity that seems so vital, it practically pulses. (It still makes me laugh at the irony that _I_, the notorious night person organized wake up calls at 5am in Belize just to watch the day start. Imagine all the cursing thrown at me when the day began with cloudy skies, heh). Or at night by the ocean and all is dark except for the round orb of the moon casting its phosphorescent light, like a shadow over the water. My favourite is still bush whacking in old growth forests and stumbling into areas where the canopy lets in a few rays of sunshine giving off this fantastical illumination. A fairyland.

There has always been conflict between science and religion. Some even regard science as the purest religion. But when one is surrounded by the natural world and witness the intricacies, the complex interdependencies that have evolved, one cannot help but be awed and admit perhaps there _is_ a higher power at work. I know I adulate excessively about nature and stuff a lot to those around me, a neverending rhapsody, I push for people to experience it with me and I'm always looking for a treehugger soulmate of sorts. I want others to feel the romance in the great outdoors and commune with it. Too often in my studies at school, we learn about the detrimental effects humans have due to either ignorance or apathy and it can leave one with built up internal frustration at the futility. But then knowledge and experience will hopefully lead to conservation and a lifelong love.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Muir took Roosevelt on a camping trip to Yosmite and they talked late into the night by campfire. The magnificence and purity of their surroundings had an significant impact on the American president that he started conservation programs and established the first national monuments and parks through congress.

as the world turns

In TO I watched "Shall We Dance" with Jen. In it Susan Sarandon's character expresses this thought about marriages and just love in general.

"We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness"

We all need witnesses in our lives, to make us feel that what we're doing is worthwhile and has an impact even if it is only noticed by one alone. It gives meaning to what you do even if it's something small and seemingly insignificant. Life is a lonely journey by oneself. We're not meant to be alone, to live our lives unnoticed. I want a witness in my life. Someone to look eye to eye with and yet with our eyes forward in search of the same truth. I want to know that no matter what, there is someone in my life that I can depend wholly on.

I don't think it's a matter of feeling lonely being a singleton. It's more than that. It's this want, this need to share everything I see and experience and know that they want to know everything I see and experience.

We are born helpless. As soon as we are fully conscious we discover loneliness. We need others physically, emotionally, intellectually; we need them if we are to know anything, even ourselves.
~C.S. Lewis, "The Four Loves"

Why is it that we need companionship? Life would be simplier if we can all propogate asexually, putting away the frustrations of finding a suitable mate with which to exchange DNA. Not just speaking in the eros of relationship terms but in terms of friendships, life would be so much easier if we can be self sufficient and not feel pangs of loneliness ever. I want to live in an ivory tower on a mountain surrounded by huge trees. I'd look out my window and see in the distance the glistening ocean.

Back into the pit

There's always this letdown after a life changing trip, after being immersed in beautiful surroundings and then having to resume one's old lifestyle. Travelling is good for the soul and everytime, it never ceases to amaze me how much I can still change and mature within. Where does this inner "summer" strength come from?
Belize was absolutely stunning. To wake up at 5 every morning and watch the sunrising, to be literally surrounded by nature and feeling your body refreshed from all the outdoor activities. It's amazing.

?

i wait in anticipation of something, anything. the tension is on the verge of breaking. the mind a mangle of scattered thoughts that have taken root and overpowers. i yearn for something, anything. i don't know what. life is a network of complicated twists, of hesitation by the meek, of avoidance and pretenses. life is a network of tangled webs, of cowardly shields by the weak, of scared silences and furtive glances. glances from under my lashes of quick peeks there and away. glances that shimmers with that anticipation, glances that shutters to hide.
the anticipation kills but then i remember the web, the twists, the impossibilities, no hope the deadlier.

emptiness

where has my thoughts gone? where has everything gone? you take a step back and look at your life in perspective and in the glaring reality the mind has shut down and gone into self preservation mode. the body protests, crying out for sleep. the mind protests, crying out for rest. so now i am but an empty shell, barely functioning, with no will to get out of bed in the mornings, with no care for what nourishment i might need.
my life is one neverending grieving period. it's one tragedy after another and instead of becoming numb, the pain hurts more and more and digs and twists more harshly, aiming more precisely. it chips away at my resolve and whatever restrictions i had put on myself to keep me going is gone.

uncanniness

This described me way too closely. It's strange feeling like someone delved deep into your subconscious and presented it to you in a tight little package.

http://hokev.brinkster.net/quiz/default.asp?quiz=Better+Relationship&page=1

eXpressive: 5/10
Practical: 7/10
Physical: 4/10
Giver: 8/10

You are a RPIG--Reserved Practical Intellectual Giver. This makes you a Rock of Gibraltar.

You are loyal, kind, thoughtful and conscientious. You're a good person. You make everyone around you happier and better, even if you yourself are not at your happiest or best. You just care so much about your friends and loved ones that you can't help giving them everything of yourself. It can wear you out, but you'd never let on.

You're successful, smart and fun to be with, but your self-esteem could use some boosting. You don't like conflict, and you don't like demanding things for yourself, so you can feel unappreciated. But then you wonder if you don't deserve to be appreciated. You do!

You have many small crushes, but it takes you ages to get to a serious stage with someone. You get so caught up second-guessing yourself and worrying if the other person really *likes* likes you that you never dare to make the first move. Generally you end up with another clever RPIG who knows one when s/he sees one. This adds up to one long courtship. Fortunately this also adds up to one long marriage.

You would never cheat. You would never hurt anyone's feelings. You are so sympathetic and give so many second chances that it takes a lo-o-ong time for anyone to get on your bad side.

Your only problem is you can be *too* thoughtful -- you can end up worrying and getting hung up over nothing.

You may be a boy scout.

Of the 220028 people who have taken this quiz, 7 % are this type.

A Dream

A dream, enigmatic, so fragile so frail,
In it is relayed a much sordid tale.
The girls they come from Santo Domingo,
Their innocence soon to be lost in a limbo.
For years they experience the world’s ravages,
Pounced on, abused by many male savages.
They think that their plight will be no more,
And so they embark for America’s shore.
Their folly my friends? Oh daring to dream,
That their lives would one day be wholesome and clean.
Twenty years later, there they do stand,
A shady street corner so close at hand.
One can see the pain in their eyes,
By daring to dream, they’re the ones most despised.
A dream, my friends so fragile so frail,
Elusive and wistful – a holy grail?

*Written by my friend, Mansi.

Points to ponder: Peacock of a female

"... there can be no doubt that in our society the equivalent of the peacock's tail is exhibited by the female, not by the male. Women paint their faces and glue on false eyelashes... Women seem to be interested in their own personal appearance and they are encouraged in this by their magazines and journals... When a woman is described in conversation, it is quite likely that her sexual attractiveness, or lack of it, will be prominently mentioned. This is true, whether the speaker is a man or a woman. When a man is described, the adjectives used are much more likely to have nothing to do with sex... What has happened in modern western man? Has the male really become the sought-after sex, the one that is in demand, the sex that can afford to be choosy?"

~ Richard Dawkins, "the Selfish Gene"