Speckled Mirror

The unknown writer's attempt to write. Here's some distorted reality from a Speckled Mirror.

[speckledmirror]

Each heart is a pilgrim, Each one wants to know The reason why the winds die And where the stories go.

[speckledmirror]

Mother

I dream of you as if you are still alive. I pray for you in my half asleep state. And then I wake up, and realize you are no more.

My first vacation not being able to share pictures with you. I miss you even though I live far away.

[speckledmirror]

(blank)

When you stare at that blinking cursor, you’re mind racing over things said, and yet, not willing to write the things you thought you should. 

Distance does not always make the heart grow fonder. 

[speckledmirror]

when the past comes calling

It's been a strange week. After a few restless days and nights, of remembering N, of being really tempted to call, last night was one of those days when I lay down and end up with a rambling prayer. The evening was full of packing and much fun thanks to my wonderful sister. I woke up this morning and felt I should put the last year behind. That its time to end the year of carelessness. I said a prayer and woke up. In one of those crazy coincidences, N pings in the evening followed by a strained conversation. It's not easy to forget what's happened.

[speckledmirror]

the night. the fear.

Wake up. What's the time? 2:30 am. Ugh! Look around. It's quiet but for the whoosh from the ceiling fan. She coughs. She said she's got a sore throat, but it's worse. Poor thing, works so hard. She struggles to breathe. Turns and tosses around in bed. Reduce the fan speed. May be its too cold. Ask her if she wants the fan off. She mumbles something in her sleep. Candy crush keeps company. Eyes hurt. Too bright. Who cares. More coughing. More tossing around. More phlegm in her throat. Do you want hot water? No, she says. Reduce the fan speed once more. Turn over. Nose feels clogged. More games. Check email. Facebook. The page unchanged. Refreshed umpteen times already. There's thunder and lightning. Outside mirroring inside. It's 3:30 am. An hour. No sign of sleep. Mind races. Out of lives. Pin tempts. Scratch some and scratch some more. Some odd relief. Enough for now. Wonder what he'd say. Battery running low. Must try to sleep. The window bangs. Lock the window. Cold wind. No wonder she's sick. It's quieter now. Try to sleep. Stop staring at the phone. She's stopped coughing. Peacefully asleep. Where's Mine? Should have closed it earlier! Thud. Rustle. Louder than it really is. Must be a cat. Can't be an intruder. May be it's a good idea to lock the door. Wait. Cre-a-k. The door opens slowly. The hearts pounding. This is stupid. Am gonna have a heart attack. Thud. Thud. Thud. The heart beats wildly. Muster the courage to close the door. sigh! What's wrong?! At least now can try to sleep without watching every small sound. 4:30 am. Not good. Sleep will dutifully arrive when it is time to wake up. 7am. Wake up. Snooze. Run. Another day begins. Another sleepless night end. From somewhere she remembers his curse. The words will have no power, she'd said. They must not.

[speckledmirror]

the fairy tale lie

The rational brain says let go. The irrational being hangs on The heart aches of the truth untold. And of the lies told. The mind remembers. the maps. The paths. The roads. The rides. The moments. The magic gone. Even worse, the magic turned sour. The memories of pleasure returns to haunt. Each one waiting for its chance. Lurking in a corner. The blank stare. The tears. The sigh. The pain. The scratches. The marks. They all tell a story. Of the fairy tale ending that would never come.

[speckledmirror]

For Jennifer, Whomever You Are

Jennifer is a composite of all the students who’ve asked me to look at their work online and offer some advice. My advice has changed over the years. Dear

[vintageanchorbooks]

My Library by Tom Gauld

[vintageanchorbooks]

“I experienced that sinking feeling you get when you know you have conned yourself into doing something difficult and there’s no going back.”

Robyn Davidson, Tracks (via vintageanchorbooks)

[speckledmirror]

Collective Responsibility

We're all a thread in the pattern they say. We're all colors of a palette in each other's lives they say. We're touched by those around us and we touch their lives in return. Our lives are weaved in parts by those who weave in and out of our lives. 

Yet, they forgot to say that the patten would be destroyed if two threads were pulled out at random. The eye is no longer drawn to the beauty of the pattern, but to the missing thread, the missing bead, the lost connection. 

Would that leave the pattern any better? I doubt. Then again, whose responsibility is it anyway for any single thread to stay or leave the pattern. To remain or to leave. 

[speckledmirror]

Overlaying Memories

I go out for dinner for the first time in this new city. And, we turn into a lane. Memory kicks in. I think I've been here. Oh, yes, I remember that Subway - having dinner with someone I'd rather forget. I remember that moment. Seated facing the road. Sipping lemon tea. People watching. The t-shirt store up the road. The Pink Floyd tee I'd helped choose to which he'd always say 'Good choice'.  We parked right in front of the tshirt store. 

Isn't it crazy that, of all the places, I had to land right there? 

Should we go somewhere else, he asked. I said, no, I'd rather not run away from these memories. 

It's a good thing in a way. It's time to overlay those memories with better ones. With ones, hopefully, I'd be able to move on. With memories that make me smile, not tear up. With moments I'd cherish, not wish forgotten. I didn't say any of these. 

So is life. 

[speckledmirror]

What do we Deserve?

There are days when I wonder what did I do to be treated like that; to be mauled and tossed around. 

There are days when I wonder what did I do to deserve all the goodness in my life. 

Today is one of those days filled with kindness and care. If only my days would be like this. 

[vintageanchorbooks]

“And so we know the satisfaction of hate. We know the sweet joy of revenge. How it feels good to get even. Oh, that was a nice idea Jesus had. That was a pretty notion, but you can’t love people who do evil. It’s neither sensible or practical. It’s not wise to the world to love people who do such terrible wrong. There is no way on earth we can love our enemies. They’ll only do wickedness and hatefulness again. And worse, they’ll think they can get away with this wickedness and evil, because they’ll think we’re weak and afraid. What would the world come to? But I want to say to you here on this hot July morning in Holt, what if Jesus wasn’t kidding? What if he wasn’t talking about some never-never land? What if he really did mean what he said two thousand years ago? What if he was thoroughly wise to the world and knew firsthand cruelty and wickedness and evil and hate? Knew it all so well from personal firsthand experience? And what if in spite of all that he knew, he still said love your enemies? Turn your cheek. Pray for those who misuse you. What if he meant every word of what he said? What then would the world come to? And what if we tried it? What if we said to our enemies: We are the most powerful nation on earth. We can destroy you. We can kill your children. We can make ruins of your cities and villages and when we’re finished you won’t even know how to look for the places where they used to be. We have the power to take away your water and to scorch your earth, to rob you of the very fundamentals of life. We can change the actual day into actual night. We can do these things to you. And more. But what if we say, Listen: Instead of any of these, we are going to give willingly and generously to you. We are going to spend the great American national treasure and the will and the human lives that we would have spent on destruction, and instead we are going to turn them all toward creation. We’ll mend your roads and highways, expand your schools, modernize your wells and water supplies, save your ancient artifacts and art and culture, preserve your temples and mosques. In fact, we are going to love you. And again we say, no matter what has gone before, no matter what you’ve done: We are going to love you. We have set our hearts to it. We will treat you like brothers and sisters. We are going to turn our collective national cheek and present it to be stricken a second time, if need be, and offer it to you. Listen, we— But then he was abruptly halted.”

—Kent Haruf, Benediction (via vintageanchorbooks)

What If? 

[vintageanchorbooks]

Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami was born in Kyoto, Japan on this day in 1949. “Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?” ― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

[speckledmirror]

On the Other Side of the Glass #2

Another day. Another cab. Another ride to the railway station.  Am in the cab, windows rolled up to keep the dust/smoke away. The air-con makes the ride an extension of the office I just got out of. 

Another signal. We're again waiting for the lights to turn green. These women move from car to car. She had brightly colored make up - a little too gaudy and bright. She passed by the window. While I realized the moment was gone, she sat down and chatted with the other day. 

Snap. And, we were gone. 

They wait for the lights to turn red.

[speckledmirror]

Is there light without shadow

There is no shadow without light, The inverse is not true

[speckledmirror]

On the Other Side of the Glass #1

It's that time of the year when the sun is warm and the wind is chill. The old man was seated there - enjoying the mid-day sun, picking the edible pods off those plants. 

I was in the cab, on my way to work, waiting for the signal to turn green. Between me deciding to take a picture and getting to it, the cop walked in to the picture.