Change is a great thing, usually I embrace it with open arms. But this time I'm a little concerned.
It's fair to accept that others may not care about what's important to you- but that doesn't mean you should forsake those things for that reason.
On another topic- I went to an old friend's place tonight, and I realised something. We've turned out alright. Not amazing, but alright. We're pretty blessed, and we've been lucky. That said, I've done stupid things here and there- and almost ignored my own sense of morality because that was easy at the time. But the reality is, there are some things that aren't for me- drinking, and flirting with danger might be exciting but they aren't for me. I'm not sure they're for anyone, really. It's not even a matter of grappling with temptation- I'm just not tempted. Perhaps that's indicative of a lack of spontaneityor excitement(????) but I can probably think of 100 ways I'd rather spend my time.
The simpler you make life, the better it will be.
I have decided to turn off my phone, turn off facebook, and turn off the endless stream of voices around me as often as I can. It's sad that I hardly read, or write, or even read the newspaper. And, surrounded by busy, connected people makes that difficult sometimes, but it's important for my own peace of mind.
Lifestyle change, here I come!
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Friday, October 14, 2011
Nadia
I'm listening to Nitin Sawhney
And I'm struggling
To put words down on paper
The biological treatment of Rheumatoid Arthritis
It makes me tired to even think about it
And I'm struggling
To put words down on paper
The biological treatment of Rheumatoid Arthritis
It makes me tired to even think about it
Dream catcher.
I'm awake.
She moves towards me slowly
a girl with voluminous eyes
and a smile I've never seen in this life
a smile that says 'i know you'
I've never seen her
She would be unrecognisable to me
And I am at ease
she places her soft lips against mine
I feel light, comforted
the room is illuminated with splendid light
I am being.
The edge of my bed
a bright green snake, floats towards me
swaying in line with my terrified eyes
It always ends this way. Yesterday, the day before,
I'm always waiting for the kill
but tonight it finally strikes,
A rush of immense pain, but suddenly
we both realise, there's nothing
devoid of poison, bloody fang marks on my hand
We're both still alive and puzzled.
We're all alive and puzzled.
She moves towards me slowly
a girl with voluminous eyes
and a smile I've never seen in this life
a smile that says 'i know you'
I've never seen her
She would be unrecognisable to me
And I am at ease
she places her soft lips against mine
I feel light, comforted
the room is illuminated with splendid light
I am being.
The edge of my bed
a bright green snake, floats towards me
swaying in line with my terrified eyes
It always ends this way. Yesterday, the day before,
I'm always waiting for the kill
but tonight it finally strikes,
A rush of immense pain, but suddenly
we both realise, there's nothing
devoid of poison, bloody fang marks on my hand
We're both still alive and puzzled.
We're all alive and puzzled.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Intimacy, Medicine and other Musings
Your fingertips are highly innervated with sensory nerve fibres, for discriminating, fine touch.
You can't be a med student without marvelling at, and loving the human body in all its variety and exquisite detail.
But why is touch so significant? We all like to be held, to be kissed, to be reminded we are cared for with physical affection. Countless surveys, articles, conversations, thoughts, cloud up the mental atmosphere, and a large percentage of them seem to be about sex. Maybe that's just my age bracket? Maybe it's taboo, which doesn't make much sense to me. Sex is such a dirty word, but really, where would we be without it? Touch is a big thing. Anticipation, comfort, cruelty, caress. All carried out with your body. Reminders of your immediate presence. Removal of distance. Is it primitive, a sign of attachment, a remnant from our early months, characterised by silence? Instinctive? Lowly? I know plenty of people who disregard the importance of physical contact once adulthood begins.
As students we learn how to examine, how to percuss and auscultate, to learn to read the body's inner workings from the outside. Today, I watched a talk given by Abraham Verghese- A doctor's touch
He discusses the importance of examination, its place as a ritual and the physician-patient relationship. It occurred to me today, that my favourite part of medicine so far has been the patient interaction. For the time being, we aren't much more than glorified science students. I am reminded once a fortnight of how priviledged and trusted we are, despite our little knowledge. Patients unquestioningly allow us to poke, prod and question. Why?
Because they trust us, and that one day, their lives or those of their loved ones will be in our hands. That's quite a responsibility, but also an honour.
It's refreshing to hear inspiring people speak. I had forgotten how it felt to be inspired (especially once the inevitable rat race makes itself clear). The one and only arts lecture I attended as an Arts student featured the lecturer discussing why, or if, a table is a table. That's not a reflection on Arts, but it is a reminder that inspiration, history and philosophy aren't just found within the alternative arts scene.
At this point, I'm far too tired to express my excitement, and as usual my post has taken a rambling turn. But I see a beautiful sunrise every time my eyes begin to close. I've learnt more in these last two years than I had thought possible. We're never going to attain a stage where we have reached and created a perfect life. It's never going to happen, and for that I'm grateful. That's a futile dream, but also an uninteresting one. I'd only like for Love to be certain, no matter how or where it takes place. If I have breath and love in equal parts I can live.
'I feel a thousand capacities spring up in me. I am arch, gay, languid, melancholy by turns. I am rooted, but I flow. '
You can't be a med student without marvelling at, and loving the human body in all its variety and exquisite detail.
But why is touch so significant? We all like to be held, to be kissed, to be reminded we are cared for with physical affection. Countless surveys, articles, conversations, thoughts, cloud up the mental atmosphere, and a large percentage of them seem to be about sex. Maybe that's just my age bracket? Maybe it's taboo, which doesn't make much sense to me. Sex is such a dirty word, but really, where would we be without it? Touch is a big thing. Anticipation, comfort, cruelty, caress. All carried out with your body. Reminders of your immediate presence. Removal of distance. Is it primitive, a sign of attachment, a remnant from our early months, characterised by silence? Instinctive? Lowly? I know plenty of people who disregard the importance of physical contact once adulthood begins.
As students we learn how to examine, how to percuss and auscultate, to learn to read the body's inner workings from the outside. Today, I watched a talk given by Abraham Verghese- A doctor's touch
He discusses the importance of examination, its place as a ritual and the physician-patient relationship. It occurred to me today, that my favourite part of medicine so far has been the patient interaction. For the time being, we aren't much more than glorified science students. I am reminded once a fortnight of how priviledged and trusted we are, despite our little knowledge. Patients unquestioningly allow us to poke, prod and question. Why?
Because they trust us, and that one day, their lives or those of their loved ones will be in our hands. That's quite a responsibility, but also an honour.
It's refreshing to hear inspiring people speak. I had forgotten how it felt to be inspired (especially once the inevitable rat race makes itself clear). The one and only arts lecture I attended as an Arts student featured the lecturer discussing why, or if, a table is a table. That's not a reflection on Arts, but it is a reminder that inspiration, history and philosophy aren't just found within the alternative arts scene.
At this point, I'm far too tired to express my excitement, and as usual my post has taken a rambling turn. But I see a beautiful sunrise every time my eyes begin to close. I've learnt more in these last two years than I had thought possible. We're never going to attain a stage where we have reached and created a perfect life. It's never going to happen, and for that I'm grateful. That's a futile dream, but also an uninteresting one. I'd only like for Love to be certain, no matter how or where it takes place. If I have breath and love in equal parts I can live.
'I feel a thousand capacities spring up in me. I am arch, gay, languid, melancholy by turns. I am rooted, but I flow. '
Monday, September 19, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Delicate things.
My head, a thousand anchors
pulling me to weightlessness
intoxicated by these
wicked games, forbidden eyes
humble beginnings in darkened corridoors
dangerous exchanges through
foggy glass and footsteps
pull me in deeper, until
my tongue creeps forward with this new
thirst, breathless, shameless
and I'm kept crazy
two drops at a time,
shaking on the precipice
shattering everything, flooded with shards
close,close,closer,close.
I have what you need
pulling me to weightlessness
intoxicated by these
wicked games, forbidden eyes
humble beginnings in darkened corridoors
dangerous exchanges through
foggy glass and footsteps
pull me in deeper, until
my tongue creeps forward with this new
thirst, breathless, shameless
and I'm kept crazy
two drops at a time,
shaking on the precipice
shattering everything, flooded with shards
close,close,closer,close.
I have what you need
Friday, September 9, 2011
A quarter to three.
Remnants of last night's lipstick
a half smile to make you swoon
the scent of mingled perfumes
and the ecstasy of freed feet
wiggling toes, hair windswept
clinging to each other
in crowded buses at midnight
falling asleep on my shoulder
enchanted by the city lights
and our beautiful, comfortable silence
a half smile to make you swoon
the scent of mingled perfumes
and the ecstasy of freed feet
wiggling toes, hair windswept
clinging to each other
in crowded buses at midnight
falling asleep on my shoulder
enchanted by the city lights
and our beautiful, comfortable silence
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)