There are times when you find yourself moving to the fringes of a certain circle. How you feel about it about depends to a great extent on whether it's happening to you, or you're making it happen. Either way, it helps if you realise that the fringe of one circle is often the epicentre of another. (Overlapping circles, you see.)
So, go ahead and be on the fringe if it works for you, but make sure you're in the centre of the ones that matter. Most importantly, pick your circles- small, big, whatever. Don't let them pick you. 

Enough. I'm starting to sound like I know what I'm talking about.

RIP Frosty

 

We built ourselves a snowman,
he lasted through the night;
the next day he got his head kicked in,
even though he was white.

Sometimes silence is silent.
Other times, it is a deafening wave of
sound, swirling
around inside your head,
amplifying sighs, whispers,
countless unsaid words.

Sometimes silence is a
warm blanket, to wrap around
oneself on a cold night, before slipping
into the sort of child-like, dreamless sleep
that adults often only dream of.
Other times, it uses its cold finger
to heartlessly lift your cover, smiling
benignly as thoughts escape like shadows
and linger on the wall.

Sometimes silence is like the best kind
of friend- constant,
non-judgemental, wise.
Other times, it is an awkward
guest, a pleasant surprise when
they arrive, but
then never quite leave.

Sometimes silence is fresh snow,
glistening in the late evening sun,
giving itself up to footprints.
Other times, it turns to ice,
and you must tread lightly,
feet suddenly unsteady; to talk
is to feel
like learning to walk.

Sometimes silence is the 'e'
at the end of love,
completing it, without having to say it.
Other times, it is the silent 'r'
at the end of stranger. Not quite
estranged, but always a danger.

So what's the one thing you've done today that will actually mean something five years from now? And if you've not done it already, how long are you going to let regret and discontent stop you?

Discontent is a bit like the mold currently spreading across my bathroom ceiling- once it sets in, it's tough to stem the rot. As for regret, that's going to feel a lot worse five years from now. It may not feel like it just at this moment, but life's too short. So, dance while you can still hear the music.

Do it now.

When I was about ten years old, my Dad carried an old wooden piano that he found at a relative's house, up a hill in the rain. I watched as he grimaced under the weight of it, and then stood helplessly as he buckled and fell onto the wet ground.

Some things I will never forget, and that image of my Dad struggling to carry a piano that he hoped one day I would play, is one of them. I think it is because to me it is like a priceless artefact; tangible proof of the depth of everything good a parent invests in their child. It is the purest form of love- an unconditional love driven by nothing more than a desire to see them chase their dreams.

One day, I hope to do the same for my child- but in the meantime, that single image from my childhood reminds me that I owe it not just to myself, but also my parents, and anyone who has invested anything in me, to be spectacular; to repay belief with effort, to never settle for mediocrity. And to never, ever, forget.

Sometimes in life you manage to convince yourself there's some sort of cosmic significance attached to the fact that you and someone else are together, adrift in a particular moment in time, journeying toward an uncertain but shared destiny. 
In reality, however, they're just in it for the ride. And when the journey's over, they will walk away, pausing perhaps for a moment, but never quite looking back. 

Who's your Richard Parker?

"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it."

- Roald Dahl

In my opinion, this is one of the best basketball ads Nike has ever made. It is only 30 seconds long, and contains no shots of Jordan flying through the air or slam-dunking the life out of some basketball. It doesn't even have a basketball. All it has is a man, talking about how he's just a man.



On a related note, maybe Sachin Tendulkar should do a similar ad.It could go something like this:

28 times I've been dismissed in the 90s.
37 times I've made a century in a losing cause.
I have dropped 112 catches, some of them sitters.
I have failed over and over again in my life...and that is why...
I'm in the Rajya Sabha.

I'm joking, obviously. I love Sachin. And as Sachin ads go, this is one of my favourites. It also shows that Sachin can never be just a man. Too many people need him to be so much more. 

The Inmates are running the Asylum...

...is the phrase I associate most often with the situation in India in the aftermath of the gangrape and murder of the young medical student. While a city burns and a people rage, our leaders have sat and fiddled with the sort of indifference that even Emperor Nero would have been ashamed of. Elected representatives, heads of various bodies and religious leaders have all displayed the same levels of bewilderment in the face of what may yet be a significant event in the evolution of a collective conscience. As a leader, saying or doing something that is subsequently perceived by people to be the wrong thing is understandable. Ambivalence is not. 

Meanwhile, as the legal proceedings began, there was talk of denying the accused representation. This will only make a mockery of the judicial process and this terrible tragedy will be even sadder than it is now. Whether we like it or not, those men have a story which is also our story. It is imperative that we hear it.

Please God, let this man be as awesome as he seems.

My Friend for Jan is... Jan! (von Holleben)

About six years ago, I stumbled across Jan's work when I was doing some research for my Masters dissertation. I wrote to him asking if I could reproduce one of his photographs for my project named 'Dreams of Flying' which was also the title of his photo collection. Jan not only granted permission to use the photo, but sent me a high-res version of it.

Fast forward to last month, and Jan noticed copies of his limited-edition 'Dreams of Flying' books were being sold on eBay for approximately 250 euros. In comparison, my 'Dreams of Flying' poem was being sold pretty much nowhere for approximately nothing. Anyway, just for a laugh, Jan decided to give away free copies to the first 15 people who e-mailed him. I was the 15th. And so a week later, I got my copy of 'Dreams of Flying' in the post along with a signed postcard, just in time for Christmas. I then sent him a copy of my 'Dreams of Flying' poem via e-mail to complete the unlikely loop.

Jan is currently travelling in South India; last I heard he was trying to cross from Tamil Nadu to Kerala. He is a multi-award winning photographer (fact) and all-round nice guy (opinion). You can check out his work here- http://www.janvonholleben.com/

PS: If you would like to be considered for my Friend for Feb competition, please feel free to send me something exciting in the post. Unless your name is Feb, in which case you're a winner already.