Courting Destiny

what a delightfully thought-provoking truism.

and one that's been playing on repeat in my head, like kid cudi and his strangely mesmerizing track "day & night". And disguised in that noise, introspection creeps in and begins to motor up it's little engine that always thought it could.

This year, thus far atleast, I find that the days seem to bleed into each other. Colours of one sunset - bright, vibrant and drunk on homegrown toddy - tinge the thoughts and actions of the next.

I assume this is what it's like when you spend your life pain painstakingly assembling 6 yards of personalized silk. To me, this time around the metaphor that rings like temple bells through the ornate halls of '09 is this:
life. feels like. six yards. of. glorious. kanjeevaram silk.

I feel like this life and the lovelies who fill it hand me a constant supply of thread - in varying lengths, a rainbow of colours and consistently - well, inconsistent.

My task, as i've chosen to embrace it, is to keep weaving those threads together, in an attempt to make sense of it all.

Until it eventually personifies this life i'm living. no limits. no boundaries. except the ones that i set for myself,that is. Sadly, the task is not as easy as it seems in passing conversation - afterall, this metaphor assumes that every moment is a contribution made towards that story being woven.

And my life is a constant struggle because i'm not willing to accept just any tired, ole' life. i want it all. ah, i know, the folly of my egocentric north american ways. i work at living a life where the focus is firmly affixed on pleasure, passion and a vehement stance against mediocrity. and this means constantly questioning everything and accepting nothing but the past as concrete.

this sari that i weave is enveloped in the remains of my daily courtship with destiny, fate and karma. i am but the person i am because every action (yours and mine) has an equal and opposite reaction.

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while flipping through the dailies today, buried between the Obama drama i found another morsel of news that rang true. it was penned in regards to the chinese new year celebrations that will paint Toronto in a sea of red envelopes, lanterns and tasty dim sum. when asked to comment on his schedule, a Chinese-Canadian event manager said this:

"The Chinese-Canadian's here are more Chinese than the Chinese in Hong Kong".

hmm. so it's not just Indo-Canadians that are plagued by this lack of true national identity that drives them to treasure every inflexible ritual in the hopes of making them feel more of something.

while the Tdot is a beautiful and tremendously organic city vibrant with the colours of a thousand different threads, a luke warm sense of sadness underlies it all. we ( as a collective) are all clamoring to hold on to whatever remnants we have from our own national pasts, led by our faulty memories and hearsay. And in the comfort of that process, we've inadvertently married ourselves to memories of a frozen past and have indeed taken a step away from evolving culturally.

i know it's true in the case of most SL's in Toronto. there's a huge population that left the war torn island fleeing with nothing but their shell shocked memories. and in their little cultural cul-de-sacs they've recreated an SL that doesn't exist - atleast not today. i don't know too many SL's personally because well they've always given me the creeps - close minded, firmly stuck in their pasts - their lives a testament of how oppressive one's culture can be. yet while i was in SL, i thoroughly enjoyed it's residents - forward thinking, liberal, and filled with all sorts of goodness that makes someone a pleasure to be around.

someone dropped the ball people... and there's the seed of something literary in that insight - variations of it have been mined dry in the past - but i think a fresh take or two still waits to be harvested by the right mind.


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another post about nothing *yawn* sometimes you need to get through these painful ones to hit a chunk of gold.

heck, atleast it gave my fingers a good workout.

one more sleep to that TGIF feeling.