Flying/ falling

The only difference between flying and falling is learning not to hit the ground. Sometimes, though, the wind that carries you to soaring can hurt more than turning into a wet squishy mass on the ground. For who's to say where the wind will take you, and how do you know that it isn't carrying you towards a giant brick wall in the sky, only to make a bigger, uglier SPLAT!- Higher up, for more people to see and point at, and no earth to sink into.

Do you always trust the wind that carries you? What do you do, when you are so carried away by your ideas/beliefs, that you no longer see the ground you once stood firm on, or the destination you thought you were heading towards? What holds you up, when you no longer trust the wind?

Advising the present

There's a popular question that goes, "If you could give your teenage self one piece of advice,based on what you have learned since then, what would it be?"
Too much of my time of late has been spent in impatience, anger at the slowness of medical reports, the inefficiency of research, and so much else. When this typically gets expressed in a rant to Mom, I'm reminded to be patient, not push people too much, and so on. I never quite got why- WHY couldn't people just get the damn job done ??
A friend shared this song today, and I couldn't have asked for a better explanation, I think.. And thus, a piece of advice to the present me -

Dheere jalna, dheere jalna
Zindagi ki lau pe jalna
Kaanch ka sapna gal hi na jaye
Soch samajh ke aanch rakhna
Dheere jalna..

(Gulzar, from Paheli)

Writing conundrums and cooler stuff

I've been meaning not to write, these last several days. One of my closest-held writing notions is to only write what I feel, what I hold dear- If I don't mean it, it will not sound right. So I've written, a lot really- but why would I want to bore you with the rants and the moping and the whining that ensued? There has been a little too much of it on this blog lately, and I'm sick of it. So here, instead of all that, is a random list of things that have made me happy in these times of much ranting and not enough laughter.

1. Supercool moms- My own, a blog I visit, and a sweet little sight I saw yesterday afternoon. A mom on a bicycle, with one of those little toddler cars trailing behind. Matching helmets, and parent and child enjoying their afternoon sunshine. The beginning of spring, and a firm reminder that the whiny, sad little creatures who hide behind children as an excuse for not having a life of their own are not the only kind of mom there is. My mom- requires a long, separate post all of her own, which she'll get, someday soon :)

2. Pineapple cake ! Here's a GREAT recipe, please try it out, everyone! :)

* 1 1/2 cups oil
* 2 cups sugar
* 4 eggs
* 2 1/4 cups cake flour
* 1 teaspoon baking soda
* 1 teaspoon baking powder
* 1 cup nuts
* 1 teaspoon cinnamon
* 1/2 teaspoon salt
* 1 teaspoon vanilla/ orange extract
* 1 cup carrots
* 2 cups crushed pineapple
Bake at 350 F for about 45 mins. (Be warned, this is huge, so either halve the quantities or prepare to share )

3. Early morning walks- Right after I am woken up with coffee in bed, a fantastic-weather-tulips-poking-out-of-soil walk with the husband. When the rest of the day goes downhill, its nice to think that some things stay perfect- No failed experiments or deadlines or health issues can change the coming of spring, and the fact of coffee!

4. Funny blogs- Perfect afternoon pick-me-ups, for those slow days at work. Try this one !

5. Perspective- Sometimes, all the screw-ups in the world are just plain funny. Just squint at them, or top them off with a purple hat with an ostrich plume and a few assorted fruits on it. Or a dinosaur.

Introduction to Poetry

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

-Billy Collins