The lute player by Dirck van Baburen, 1622 |
So much of thorns around, yet the flowers bloom every season.
So much of downpour during the summer, yet the sun shines brightly between the raining spells and does so continuously as soon as it is autumn.
So much of stagnation in life, yet we occasionally flow like a river in the mountainside.
Paradoxes, that instead of being resolved, transform from one another.
That is probably what captures the essence of life. There is nothing uniformly bad or uniformly good, no time uniformly depressing or uniformly blissful, no terrain uniformly barren or uniformly fertile.
What blossoms today will dry up and tumble down tomorrow, that shines today will fade tomorrow. Rust will cover what glitters today.
Darkness after light. Night after day. Death after life.
Yet we are so absorbed in our own cocoons, our own minuscule worlds, that we take them for the whole world, one moment for eternity and one stretch of land for the universe.
How wrong we are.
Over time, I have come to see the grey shades in so many things that I used to see in black and white earlier. But I know there is a very long way to go ahead, in terms of understanding the world and in terms of understanding myself.
When we know little, it is better to be aware of the fact rather than believing that we know everything that is there in the world to know.
Sincerely acknowledging the ignorance within, I am in a journey of what I call a quasi-journalism. I'll have no objection if the quasi- part is removed sometime in future.
This Dashain issue of the blog is dedicated to all those who are aware of their relative ignorance and are on way to educating themselves towards the better understanding of the world, and themselves.
As always, my sincere gratitude to the guest contributors.
Happy reading and writing. Happy Dashain.
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