Angles
The entirety of our existence
is suspended in the definition
of our perspective.
Even the boundaries
can change,
have the possibility to rearrange,
dependent upon each individual claim
on the limitations of
impossible things.
He sees nothing
and it is zero, nil, an irretrievable loss,
an empty void of useless space.
She sees nothing
as a promise of grace,
of hope, creation, redemption,
and change.
They both see emptiness
but it's what they choose to do with that space.
These words are only
an ignorant human expression,
for I cannot purport to know
the solidity of fact,
of Absolute Truth,
to say otherwise is a fallacy,
self evident in the arrogance.
Choice
is what we have been granted
to work with,
this is what our Free Will is.
Why _____ ?
“Why write?”
Most mornings I wake to the sound of birds singing outside my window.
Long ago; far beyond the limits of my memory, I marveled at the sound of birdsong for the first time. Though I appeared thoughtless as I sat drooling on myself in my crisp, white, first diaper of the day; in that moment, I appreciated the songs of the birds for what they truly are:
Beautiful!
Miraculous!
I gratefully crawled closer to the window.
Then, all too soon; I was taught that birdsong was free and available to everyone. Therefore, it had no value. I was deafened to the music. At best, I took the companionship of the birds for granted. At worst, I considered them a nuisance, as their chatter woke me earlier in the morning than I would have liked.
Now, half a century later, I’ve re-learned what I knew as a baby. I hear the birds loud and clear, and I am grateful for their music once again.
Why write?
Most mornings I wake up to the sound of birds singing outside my window.
That’s a good enough reason to write.
That’s a good enough reason to smile.
That’s a good enough reason to breathe.
That’s a good enough reason to live.
It’s as simple as that.
The Proof
"What's in a name?" I asked Sagar, the most mischievous student in my class. He had an annoying habit of doing everything but pay attention to the topic at hand,
After a brief pause, he stood up to amused murmurs:
"Shakespeare, Sir!"
"What's in a name?" I quipped triumphantly and the class exploded.
Sagar sat down with an embarrassed smirk.
Just for the record. I teach Mathematics, not Literature or Philosophy. Purist may argue abstract math come close to the latter. Also, for the record, Sagar had interrupted me by complaining:
"Sir, yesterday you had used x as the variable but today you use y! Why?"
This had prompted my witty reaction.
Another ten minutes or so and I had just about finished finding the limit of a function where x < 0, followed by a neat line of chalk drawn down the middle of the blackboard. The portion on the right said "otherwise" at the top, followed by another set of steps calculating the limit when x >- 0.
I had barely turned around when Sagar, as was his wont, asked:
"Sir, I don't understand the otherwise part-"
I had fair bit to cover in the balance 15 minutes so I interrupted him and said:
"It's really simple Sagar! I'm wise and you're otherwise." and regretted it as soon as I finished even as the rest of the class enjoyed this banter.
Sagar remained standing, arms crossed. I ignored him and continued with the lecture.
At the end of the period, I reminded my wards of an assignment, due early next week.
"I know the concepts may be tough," I saged, "But remember: Nothing is Impossible!"
I then began gathering my books and bag when Sagar called out:
"Hold on, Sir! I believe nothing is possible."
Intrigued, I stopped and faced him:
"Okay. You're in a math class. Can you prove it?"
"Sure," he replied with a wide grin, "I've attended each of your lectures diligently this year but trust me, Sir, I learnt nothing!"
The void
What is it?
This nothingness
And can it exist,
While I ponder it's existence?
Does it vanish on being considered?
And can nothing really vanish
If it wasn't ever there?
Or is it something so alien,
I cannot even fathom it
While I am here - violently alive
I have often thought
That death is nothingness
The moment my consciousness ends
There will be a void.
A sweet release
From the agony of life
The restlessness of feeling,
The drama of being an emotional creature,
Of a constantly changing body
Of the stormy reality in each breath
But even in death
The atoms that make up my body
Will remain
Slowly decomposing
To their raw parts
Until they are free.
Free to form some other thing
A plant, a rock, a fledgling bird
As I am made from past things
They will be made from me
So is there truly nothing?
I'm not sure
The question writhes in my mind
A curly question
The answer evades me
I can convince myself it's there
Then talk myself around
Some ideas are too complex
For my simple mind
Just too quantum to comprehend
take a break
“I need a day where I can just do nothing,” I say to my lab partner. We’ve been working nonstop on this research for months, and we could use a break.
But we both know that we wouldn’t actually use a day off to do nothing. I need a day to do all of the things that go into being a functioning human. I’ve been eating out for every meal, my apartment is a mess, I can’t remember the last time I hung out with friends.
Nothing has been defined by some philosophers as “the absence of something.” I’m trying to imagine what my life would look like in the absence of my lab. What would I do?
On day one, I would sleep until noon. I would stay in bed and scroll through Pinterest, saving beautiful pictures and delicious recipes. I would drive to my local coffee shop, wearing an outfit that definitely does not follow the lab safety rules, and order a sugary drink and a pastry. While enjoying my food, I would sit there and read a good book. It would be a fiction book, for once, not some biochemistry journal. My laptop would be closed for the entire day. When I felt ready, I would go back home, order a pizza, and make myself a bubble bath and a glass of wine, then watch mindless tv shows until I fell asleep.
On day two, I would return to Pinterest. I would open all of the recipes I’ve saved, buy their ingredients, and cook myself a meal. A good meal. Not a fast food meal, or one from the university faculty cafeteria. After I would wash my dishes, wash the sink, wash the kitchen counter. I would finally live in a clean space.
By the end of week one, I would have started a few artistic hobbies, maybe painting or writing poetry. I would be spending more time outside, going on walks and listening to music. Maybe I would have plans with my friends.
By the end of month one, I would have traveled to new places. I’ve seen corners of the world I never had the time to visit. I would need a companion for this, so I probably adopted a pet.
By the end of year one, I would have allowed myself to actually feel my emotions. I allow my brain to go into deep thought. I wonder about how things work, why things work. I have regained my interest in learning. There’s so much to know! So much to figure out!
One year and one day into the absence of responsibilities, I will find myself back in a lab, trying to uncover the secrets of the world.