Why do we want what we want? One day we discover a new hole that wasn’t there before, a gap we need to fill, a want. It becomes a need we must satisfy. I don’t mean wanting water when one is thirsty, but the other things we want, the ones that look like choices. What…
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The music of Philip Glass makes me feel at home. Apparently flat but deeply mysterious. The nuances of repetition. Change in no change. Peaceful and yet disquiet. A tension of opposites. Quiet and yet so loud. An inbetweenness. I often dream of windows through which I get ‘to the other side’, usually some sort of…
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I recently finished watching the fourth season of The Crown. Throughout the series, the characters explain how the Crown and the elected Government represent the two sides of power. One side that is changeable, works hands-on, gets dirty and suffers the blame, and another side that is eternal, idealised, immaculate, almost magical. There comes a…
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It’s funny how we think we have read something in a book, in a blog, something that touches us, and when we go back to read it again it’s just not there. Maybe there are some words that vaguely resemble what we remembered, but the clear idea we had in our minds is not there,…
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I once read that Bruckner’s symphonies might not be as beautiful as Mahler’s (?), but that they advance relentlessly, inexorably, almost unavoidably. Sometimes, it seems, against their own will. I wondered about the music I like and I realised that all my favourite songs and pieces have something in common: an underlying sense of inevitability.…
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As we ride towards the sunset, I ask myself whether the end will ever come, whether the sunset is a place, a real place. An end to the rainbow. A place to rest, to die. This thought makes me stop. The others look back at me, no words. I am not ready, I say. Ed…
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Trailing behind. Trailing behind. Trailing behind… but do I actually want to keep the pace? A few years ago, I felt as I had fallen off the train. My train. I still have the mental image in my mind: a meadow with short grass, the empty rails, the sunset, silence. Nothing. I just looked at…
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My soul leads me into the desert, into the desert of my own self. I did not think that my soul is a desert, a barren, hot desert, dusty and without drink. The journey leads through hot sand, slowly wading without a visible goal to hope for? How eerie is this wasteland. It seems to…
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The Introverted Tree 