When Black surrounds and muffs my sight,
Lead feet mush through tarry night.
When midnight throbs - Flash’d starlight!
This fog is Yours - warm chill, all-right.
Winter Solstice
January 27th, 2009Three Cups of Tea
April 9th, 2008
I have recently read three books set in the turbulent world of Afghanistan. Two were moving fictional stories - Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns and the third an awe-inspiring true account of one man’s humanitarian work in Pakistan and Afghanistan.
I read A Thousand Splendid Suns first and it had a profound effect on me. Not only did the novel educate me on Afghanistan’s recent history, it plunged me into the daily reality of war and oppression. It left me feeling incredulous, humbled and deeply saddened as I began to fully comprehend what the Afghani people have experienced over the last few decades.
Three Cups of Tea, the story of Greg Mortenson’s adventures in establishing over fifty schools in rural Pakistan and Afghanistan, therefore came as a relieving reminder that, despite the stranglehold that hypocrisy and exploitation has on many parts of the world, it is still possible to breathe in lungfuls of fresh air. Read the rest of this entry »
As 123 As ABC
February 19th, 2008
I recently came across the blog of a long time muse of mine, Labi Siffre. I was once in a second-hand shop in Manchester and the cover of his 1972 album, “Crying, Laughing, Loving, Lying” called out to me to buy it…
I had never heard of him, and the record was a little scratched, but I took it home and haven’t stopped listening to it since. I even hooked up the record player to the computer so I could make mp3s. Some time later, I saw him perform a sublime set of music and poetry - on race, religion, politics and people.
When I came across his blog, Into The Light, I saw a stream of poetry… This one really caught my attention:
“life has no meaning without God” say many
but life has no meaning
full stop. period.life is the muse, the inspiration
equalled only by existence
and these wonders inspire us
FIRE us to meaningto not realize that is
profoundly
oddand the customary way
to flee
responsibility
A Dangerous Time in Humanstory
October 6th, 2007
I write from New York - having just roared up the east coast in an aluminium snake of a train from Washington to stay here with some old friends from another hemisphere. The summer is well and truly Indian in the big apple, and the smell downtown is not unlike Delhi either. Despite the sticky subways, I’ve been enjoying vegan cuisine, Brooklyn community life and scintillating conversation. My friends, like me, have been recently introduced into the wonderful world of parenting and, naturally much conversation blossomed around this topic.
Lost
September 23rd, 2007
I lose myself in Your arms and the raindrops that fall onto the still water of Your heart. My fear washed away by the mossy dew of Your smile.
How long have I waited to lose myself? Only You know. And the distant light that glimmers in Your eye shares my secrets.
A river, carrying all water drops to the ocean, breathes a sigh of relief as it opens into the wide expanse of water where the memories of its journey are lost to a new presence. A vastness that envelops all fears and soothes them with soft murmurs like a mother to her child. Read the rest of this entry »