fresh books

As 2010 draws to a close, it’s time to sit in front of the fireplace and speak of epic stories and hopeless nostalgia about what has just passed these 12 months.

That’s funny – there’s no snow on the ground, it’s 5ºC, and the heater isn’t even on. There isn’t a need to light the fireplace this New Year. The family rooms are empty and quiet, and I don’t smell cinnamon and spice like I used to. Has something gone astray?

I’ve begun to think of how strangely mundane 2010 turned out to be. The winter break only truly lasted one week and 3 days (instead of the traditional two), people decided to work over the break instead of taking that time to stay home with their families or cuddle with “their special one”, if innocent, loyal love even exists in this tri-numeral year. Even with those that took a break, everyone decided to spend it (quite literally) in malls filled with flamboyant lights and animal dermis given ridiculous monetary tags.

Maybe this world is turning into the BlyssPluss society, and not quite Soma. What does happiness mean to us now? Am I being ridiculous, thinking of a synonymy of the Ministry of Love in 2084, or am I resorting to psychopathy in the presence of the House?

I think I’m thinking way too much into it.

I feel left behind, but I feel no eagerness to continue the paved walkway. There are snakes and tarantulas in the fields of tall grass and bamboo on the East, and a dirt road with abandoned buildings and dusty apothecary shops – a perfect hiding place for pilferers and figurative cannibals alike – to the West. I just came from the cold North – should I continue on the red carpeted, synthetically artistic and gaudy route South? Should I turn back?

There is no home going back anymore, but I can’t just sit here and wait for a new third dimension to open up to me. It’s not my job to decide if I go to the sky, or the depths of the inferno.

Maybe there needs to be a fourth dimension before I become comfortable with my choice. Time is ticking, and I haven’t drifted in any direction yet. The life free from suffering, alacritous and penurious as this path truly is, is just a too inhuman and a distant passed road that I have no hope of knowing where this dimension is, if it really does exist. I’m running out of directions to go; eventually the waves will drift me towards the path of least resistance.

Terra is far too beautiful to discount, yet she has been so adulterated in a world of uncertain children and tainted love.

I’m slowly losing faith, and yet losing my innocence at the same time. Absolute neutrality is evanescent, but it’s the only road my feet can tread towards. I may taste the tasteless Nirvana, but I will never be free from Samsara. And I would never grow wings as a Seraph, or be reborn into an Asura.

I’m just a confused human – another confused human at that – but I’m still a human. There is little I can do as a human but serve under other humans and their deities.

Happy new year. Each year passes and we are nowhere closer to the answer. I haven’t even found the questions yet.