Philosophy

  • Small Ball

    Here I am again with nothing to say. How often have I done this, since the birth of my blog? How often have I just been here because being anywhere else hasn’t seemed like an option? Many a time. I… Continue reading

  • The Stories We Tell

    The stories we tell ourselves about what life is, does, means, will make our hearts or break our hearts. The choice, I suppose, is ours. Make, break or both, sometimes. If only the answer were simple. Then again… what is… Continue reading

  • One

    Hush, dear soul, there is no need to question the aching sorrows. For they are there, as is the joy; two faithful companions on the road to somewhere and nowhere. Oh, dear soul. It is true there are questions unanswered,… Continue reading

  • Words Are Not BIG Enough

    The room glowed orange. And LOVE. A wooden carving of the word sat against the wall in my room, opposite my meditation cushion, on top of a painting of my favourite tree (the letters light up if I really want… Continue reading

  • 14 Days

    It has been fourteen days and the wind has brought me here. What happened was quite accidental (but then, is anything ever accidental in the universe?) Rather than my plan expiring as I thought it was going to (for reasons… Continue reading

  • What In The World?

    Well. Isn’t the world in an interesting state. That’s more of a statement, rather than a question, really, isn’t it: hence the absence of a question mark. I’ve been wondering if perhaps humanity, as a collective, might be going through… Continue reading

  • Magical Questions

    Where do thoughts go once we have thought them? Where does the wind go once the storm has passed? And why do so few wonder about life, why do they not ask more magical questions? Like where do thoughts go?… Continue reading

  • Curious

    The concept of listening to music. Curious. Close your eyes. Where is the music? Are you listening? Or is the music in you? Continue reading

  • When I Sleep

    When I sleep, am I asleep? Or am I sleep itself? Or both? Or none? Continue reading

  • Asking Questions

    It is not the darkness of others I fear. It is my own crimson need to mould the world into a shape that cannot possibly exist, or remain. Perfection is rigid, solid, stiff. Life is the ever flowing river of… Continue reading