Happy first of November! It looks like this month will be:
Big book of contemporary poetry | hot tea | plans for next semester | work | other kind of work | one-hour-of-sleep-kind-of-days | celebrations | fending off the cold rain | confused by the weather all around | making connections | rediscovering what health looks like in winter | learning to love through distance and how to talk on skype and a phone | setting aside time for leisure|
Today’s rain makes me feel more exhausted than ever. Last night, I celebrated Halloween the best way I know how (by dressing up as a man*which turned out to be a very empowering, and fascinating couple of hours) and dancing with the good ones. This morning, after only a few heavy hours of sleep, I was back at it -> writing and editing an essay before a class where we learned how to make a decent souffle.
If the rest of November is anything like today, it will be filled with exciting times (*Phantogram tonight with brother Sam, Danny and Immy) and a lot of hard work. The rest of this weekend involves a few good meals, some projects, some essay-writing, and trying to remember how to correctly wear a sari.
The only thing one can give an artist is leisure in which to work. To give an artist leisure is actually to take part in his creation. -Ezra Pound
Traveling by train will be nice. No more buses again (*at least for a while).
Leaving the city of death (aka lovely Varanasi//Banares) the day after tomorrow and heading back to Mumbai.
Plans change, but its all a part of the journey.
“I wanted to go on sitting there, not talking, not listening to the others, keeping the moment precious for all time, because we were peaceful all of us, we were content and drowsy even as the bee who droned above our heads. In a little while it would be different, there would come tomorrow, and the next day and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again. Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die, the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched. Here we sat together, Maxim and I, hand-in-hand, and the past and the future mattered not at all. This was secure, this funny little fragment of time he would never remember, never think about again…For them it was just after lunch, quarter-past-three on a haphazard afternoon, like any hour, like any day. They did not want to hold it close, imprisoned and secure, as I did. They were not afraid.” – Daphne du Maurier
Yesterday was the first time India felt really real again. Spent the day sightseeing and trekking through the heat just to experience bits and pieces of Delhi all over again.
Time with Greg has been good fun and it is so lovely to be here with a familiar face. We’ve shared memories of UNC, Indonesia and now India.
Tonight, I’m off to Rishikesh. My stay will be brief but I’m looking forward to seeing a new place and a bit cooler weather.
“Perhaps it’s true that things can change in one day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like salvaged remains of a burned house–the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture–must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.” – Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things