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Love In December

So this is love, in the end of December
Quiet nights, quiet stars
And I'm here, Monday to Sunday
'Cos you're fragile
And I'm weak

So you fall, when the nights grow longer,
Into sleep, and won't wake up

Don't you worry, I'll be there for you
Don't worry about me, you know me better than that
I'll catch you, if you would fall

So you drift, when the days grow colder
Away from me, and won't look back
Far away, and I can't guide you
But I'm here, till the spring

Don't you worry, I'll be there for you
Don't worry about me, you know me better than that
I'll catch you, if you would fall


Somehow for some reason, I am still here. Against all reason, commitment, hope. It is impossible, was impossible, still is impossible. And I am still here. There is an unspoken thing that binds me, a faith that holds me here, a truth that cannot set me free. Don't worry about me.

Experiencialist, not Existentialist!

Halfway through a haze of conversation with an old friend, I realised a fundamental truth that I wanted to affirm:

I am an experiencialist.
I believe that we cannot carry anything through our death that is of value except our memories and experiences.
I believe that good experiences and memories are gifts from friends and family, and that these gifts are of value to the receiver.
As we give and take, our gifts to friends and family are to serve and ensure to the best of our ability that the people around us gain the best experiences and memories as possible from what they see, feel, touch, hear and taste.

It is the gift, not recognition, not prestige that is important. It is watching a smile light up on another's face, a gentle look on the face of a grateful friend, the bliss of a smile upon a well-baked chocolate cake.

I want to keep giving these gifts and receiving and appreciating these gifts to everyone around me.

this weekend

I know most of my friends don't like it when I turn cryptic, but trust me (on the sunscreen). This one is for the road.

Lesson #1 learnt this weekend: Never underestimate the power of things that you say.

I know hangingbymoments has already learnt this lesson on her blog a while back - it's a feature of her writing that comes out quite a bit.

But yes, words have power. Things that you say, things that you ask. It is the only thing that connects us directly with a circumventing channel with a direct red-line access to the heart.

More and more now I believe that maturity is about knowing when to hold your tongue. As much as is knowing the right things to say at the right time, to get a desired result for greater good.