Some assume I am just a mellow brown dog that is eager to please and thus should be just be given a head rub and asked to run along
and get a stick or something.
I sometimes think my need to love exceeds my need to be loved.
Or the kind of love this century provides is dilute. For me at least, people are falling in love left right centre and below.
I keep thinking that perhaps we have lost it. In the hustle of advancing technology and the insurgence of a rapid response generation, some of the richness that that love
consists of has been slowly fading out and will eventually disappear.
If love in the earlier centuries was a deep red, the color or red Cabernet Sauvignon
|What we prefer|
|but man, this is all we gonna get|
Then the love of the millennium is a second cup of hibiscus tea, brewed from the same buds.
For me, love, if it is to be true must embrace the other three needs that I have. Need for time, space and contemplation.
Need for time
I constantly need more time. Time to read, mend stockings, look at pictures, art, do garden work, hang out with friends, family.
I need time, to observe where the ants, after invading my
cooking oil, go. How they drag the now solid, powdery mush into a tiny crack on the floor.
But time alone is not enough. It is a package.
If I, as a person who likes to sit back and contemplate the big world that surrounds me.
The universe that is constantly expanding, the fact that I am quite tiny in the scheme of things
though that doesn't stop me from making plans. If I find myself stuck at a wedding, trying to keep alert while re-introducing myself to
relatives I know quite well but who never seem to remember who I am.
Shall I be happy that I had this time? Or shall I be zooming in and out of conversations, looking forward to an evening alone where I might doodle,
sit in the kitchen and fry not so great food, to some not so great music on the radio? The promise of such an evening will be the only thing keeping me from bolting.
The need for space
I once lived in a tiny room I could clean up in under an hour. Me and my cat Mooze. I worked in a shop and in the afternoons
I came home and slept on my mattress, Mooze slept on his pillow, we left much space around us and we were quite content.
I didn't have a smartphone to distract me.
So I read books, and stitched.
Now I have a smartphone.
I have barely unlocked my door, I'm already reaching out to see if any new messages have come in between the car and my door.
I'm not dying to buy another dress or gadget, but I am dying to find space. Space to dream in, to let my mind go unbriddled by the day to day clutter.
A balcony, a backyard, a rooftop, a window or a hole to crawl into.
Then again how do you separate the need for personal space from a dislike for loneliness?
How do you tell a person, see, see this inviscible line here, don't cross it until I am ready to socialise.
Does that make me a needy unsatisfied nut?
You too have your wars.
The need to contemplate
What is this need inside me? This need to analyse everything, every emotion, every conversation, every subtle interaction I get involved in?
I should tire but I don't. I sit back and contemplate human interactions in relation to my own emotions and at times forced pretense,
while I should be doing something useful like finding out what is bit coin and finding cheap tickets to some place.
Other people just get on with life like life was a sunny picnic or a night in some crazy club where everyone is high on whisky and in a good mood.
Get up, wash your face and live.
Why is it that some people seem to get it right the first time(In life I mean, life's affairs), and does this put them at a disadvantage should a crisis arise.
and does this mean that I am second guessing myself too much, all the time?
And how much should a human being need. I need too much I suppose. More than this entire earth can give me. The reason for the wondering
Do I need too much, is the question, of How happy am I? To some extent.
And what things bring me happiness?
Which things can I live without?
I have read two good books this half of the year. Great books.
Born a Crime- that south African Comedian,,,whats is his name Trevour Noah.I really loved that book, I have quotes from here to Soweto from it.
The Samurai's Garden- Gail Tsukiyama
I finished The Samurai's Garden and what came out was the above wanderings. There is a servant in the book, taking care of a summer beach house in a Japanese Village,
and a young Chinese university boy, a grandson to the former owner of the house is sent to stay in the house as he recovers. Matsu, the servant doesn't talk much.
One day Stephen, the boy is observing him. He switches off the radio after news about the war going on in China, pulls out some magazines his sister sends him and he goes on to read as though the boy was not standing infront of him dying for conversation. So the boy walks away amazed that Matsu doesn't seem to need so much.
This is the second book I have read that has a servant who turns out to be more than he is letting on. In East of Eden, there was a servant who only spoke pidgin, but one time, a curious girl discovered kumbe it was a mask, he spoke perfect english, read books and knew practically everything from raising babies to economics. Anyway, I am now reading only light material nothing heavy.